Is Rocky II almost as good as the first one? How much worse is Rambo II than Rambo I?
If time travel gives the traveler God-like knowledge, what does that mean for the status of their relations to others in the world? Is it even possible for non-coercive relationality to exist in such a state? Andie MacDowell's slap montage wants to have it both ways. In this essay, I will...
Paul Walker, Steve Zahn, Leelee Sobieski, a cross-country road trip, and a CB-radio prank. What could go wrong? This movie attempts to answer that question. Or perhaps, this movie IS an answer to that question. I guess it depends on whether we know what a movie is.
On third thought, do we even like Robert Zemeckis movies?
Get in, loser. We're going to the future, and then the past, and then the nightmare bizarro present, and then the past again, and then -- if all goes well -- the present we can truly desire.
What does it mean to be tardy when you've got a time machine? What does it say about the nature of time and human life that the unfolding of future events really only seems to depend on a couple key moments? What kind of recursive weirdness is involved in Marty parenting his own parents?
It is a whole different kind of nostalgia at work here, and no one says it better than Annie: "1996: when racism is casual and suicide attempts are punk rock."
Do we accidentally deviate for a moment and discuss Catholic high schools, nuns-as-teachers, underpaid and unrecognized women's labor, and school vouchers? We sure do!
Stephen Dyson and Jeff Dudas, hosts of the UConn Popcast, join us to talk about whether there is any redemption (in all the senses) for Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, whether Glen Powell's "Hangman" is supposed to be a reincarnation of Iceman or of Maverick, what Jennifer Connolly's Penny Benjamin has to teach Maverick, and -- ultimately -- whether it's possible to defeat two 5th-Gen enemy fighters in an F-14 the characters describe as "so old," a "bag of ass," and a "museum piece."
When a new Linklater comes out, we obviously have to drop everything and talk about it. The question that really kicks off this conversation comes from Andy: Is this a Richard Linklater movie?
In the first installment of a short miniseries within the pod, Andy Smarick helps us think through what the original Rocky and Rambo have in common as future icons of 80s American cinema (and beyond). Both of the titular characters are symbolic of lives irresponsibly wasted -- but by different forces, and in different ways, and with different possibilities for redemption.
Winston and Andy are back, back again, to talk about the Tom Cruise and Emily Blunt vehicle "Edge of Tomorrow." What are the ethics of consent in a time-loop situation? What does "resetting the day" mean for the one who carries the memories with them? What does it mean to be self-interested rather than selfish? Is this movie simply satisfying an audience desire to watch Cruise die over and over again?
Winston and Andy return to go all the way back to the Richard Linklater ur-text, in search of the sensibilities that he would elaborate across the rest of his career. Come for the aging anarchist lying about his participation in the Spanish Civil War, stay for the woman tracking trying to get her boyfriend to stop taking Nietzsche so literally!
Richard Linklater's "spiritual successor" to Dazed and Confused struggles to inherit the mantle, we think. I can't tell what my favorite part of this episode is. Is it when Andy forgets McReynolds's name and describes him as "jacked up Weird Al with a bowl cut"? Is it when Winston strengthens the connection between Willoughby and Wooderson by noting that Matthew McConaughey also starred in Failure to Launch? Is it when Andy--quite appropriately--reads the poem "Pitcher," by Robert Francis, into the record? Listener, you decide!
Do long-term relationships require foundational lies? Are marital fights inverted versions of Linklater's favorite time-collapse phenomena? Is it possible to look hopefully toward the future from the middle of the journey, bearing forward the burdens of the past? Is this a question about temporality or about perception?
Is it possible to enjoy a film that is an existential trial to watch?
Annie says that this whole movie is a critique of heteronormativity. Susan: [pause] "You're going to have to sell me on that one, because..."
We're all such nerds.
Is time a lie? Is Jesse selfish? What is the weight of the past that sits between them? Is happiness even possible? Is that the question?
Julie Delpy's Celine falls for Ethan Hawke's Jesse when Jesse relates a story of his deceased grandmother appearing to him in the mist thrown off my a summertime hose -- His parents told him that death is forever, but, he says, "I know what I saw." The question for the characters throughout the slow movement of the film is similar: What are they seeing, and how sure are they?
What a film to originally encounter in our late adolescence. What a film to revisit now.
The two big questions here are: (1) Is this film an exercise in nostalgia or not? And (2) Is this film glorifying the intoxications of youth or not? When I was 15, I definitely would have said "yes" to both questions. And now?
This podcast is generally about critically revisiting fondly-remembered films from our youth. There's just so little fondness to express in this episode, though. Oof.
Which two movies, you ask? Boyz N the Hood and Point Break! Winston and Andy work very hard to make it seem as though these two movies are more or less equally worthy of attention, but it's tough sledding -- and winds up being at least as revealing of how the Hollywood of a certain era understands the connection between the moral stakes of a fictional story and return on investment.
