Better Than You Remember

Rebecca has a vague awareness of The Sting: (hotties Robert Redford and Paul Newman are on the big screen again, four years after Butch and Sundance, there are tuxedos, and at one point one of them is in a bathtub – fully clothed, disappointingly). But for Jack, this movie is foundational, seminal, and nostalgic.

For the first time (!) Jack takes the Better Than You Remember recall reigns and leads us through this caper that finds small-time con man Johnny Hooker (Redford) tenuously teaming up with retired star con artist Henry Gondorff (Newman) to pull a fast and lucrative lift on the ruthless high-roller Doyle Lonnegan (Robert Shaw).

Watching The Sting was a family affair for Jack – just as he remembers the heists big and small, he recollects gathering around the couch with popcorn and queuing it up again and again. And one can see why even the youngest of Jack’s would be into the film – what’s not to like! Grifts, slights of hand, switcheroos, they are all there, plus the comedy icon Eileen Brennan, that classic ragtime theme song, and three sets of the bluest eyes in Hollywood. You don’t need to be a hustler to have your heart stolen by this one – trust us.

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Jack has feelings about horror movies (he doesn’t like them), which means he is the one guy on the planet who has never seen Scream. But…is Scream actually a horror movie, or is it more of a who-done-it-with-big-knives?

Wes Craven’s clever metatextual hit majorly connected with audiences – the OG film made over one hundred million at the box office, reinvigorated the slasher genre, and spawned six sequels (seriously, how did Jack never see it??). With smart dialogue and ample jump scares, Scream keeps you uneasily wondering who is slicing and dicing the teens of Woodsboro High, and why – even if you don’t find it all that horrifying.

With a stacked cast of late-90s hotties who settle nicely into the perfect collection of high schooler tropes (the Bad Boy, The Nerd, the Joker, the Virgin, and the Whore), Scream walked so that Urban Legends, I Know What You Did Last Summer, The Faculty, and Halloween: H20 could run (in terror, from the big baddie). Better Than You Remember is chock-a-block with spoilers, but in this episode, Rebecca holds off on sharing the denouement to keep Jack guessing, and then we cut our way through the film’s many red herrings, thrills and chills, and copious pop culture references.

Starring a stacked cast – Kiefer Sutherland, Kevin Bacon, Julia Roberts, Oliver Platt, and Billy Baldwin (remember, Billy was Very Hot in the 90s) Flatliners is about a group of medical students who begin to mess with the mortal coil by euthanizing and then zapping themselves back to life to find out what waits for us on the other side of existence.

Turns out: bad shit is waiting. Each undergrad unlocks their deepest shames or sorrows, all of which begin to haunt them in the land of the living. Now, on a college campus that is inexplicably and entirely under construction; awash with barricades, flashing lights, plastic sheeting, the quintet have to figure out how to slough off the ghosts of their past before they drive them nuts or quite literally kill them.

Young Rebecca was no stranger to slasher, splatter, and stalker movies, but something about Flatliners really spooked her because it wasn’t about Freddy and Jason, but about death itself, regret, and atonement. Real Dickensian type stuff. In this episode, Rebecca and Jack get metaphysical and theological (you’re welcome, Joel Schumacher) and hotly debate if movies – yes, ALL movies – are messaging to viewers that they should live a more saintly life.

Our A Perfect Murder episode got us ruminating on remakes. In this bonus bite, Jack and Rebecca each bring three re-do to the mic: a goodie, a baddie, and a....eh, it may not be pretty, but they get there.

From The Magnificent Seven to Sabrina, we consider reboots that should have left the OG well enough alone, and which reimaginations added something new to the story.

When a director knows they shouldn’t remake a classic, or a classic doesn’t need a remake, but they want to remake it – what should they do? Andrew Davis’ 1998 A Perfect Murder is a loosey goosey reimaging of Alfred Hitchcock’s 1954 Dial M for Murder, swapping Gwyneth Paltrow for Grace Kelly and Michael Douglas for Ray Milland in the creeptastic story of a husband who hires a man to kill his wife.

The film didn’t light the world on fire, but it lives in Rebecca’s memory relatively fondly (Paltrow wears some great turtlenecks, Douglas is convincingly oppressive, and a mumbling Viggo Mortensen plays Paltrow’s lover and hired hitman!). Did audiences need to have seen Hitch’s original to appreciate A Perfect Murder? Or is it better for audiences to have no standard to hold Davis’ work against?

We give the film a go with multi-million-dollar-film-budget questions in mind: when a film remake doesn’t land (ahem, Gus Van Sant’s Psycho), is it because of audiences affinity for the original? Can a remake succeed only when divorced from its source material? Jack and Rebecca get into the not-so-way-back machine and talk through A Perfect Murder’s imperfections, and consider how small changes in a reimagining can make you appreciate the source material all the more.

Good things come in small packages - at least that is the hope of movie trailer editors. In this bonus episode, Jack and Rebecca queue up the trailer for The Pelican Brief, compare and contrast it with the vibe of Oliver Stone’s JFK, and give the inside scoop on why and how trailers can pack such a mighty (or puny) punch.

The Pelican Brief doesn’t sound all that thrilling: a young college student writes an academic paper theorizing about who is responsible for the murders of two Supreme Court Justices, implicating a dangerous business man. Research! Typing! Microfiche!

But starring A-listers Julia Roberts and Denzel Washington and with director Alan J. Pakula (All the President’s Men, The Parallax View) adapting Mr. Airport-Read-John-Grisham’s bestseller, the film became a box office smash, and a teenage Rebecca found herself briefly (!!) obsessed with a movie about a scholarly essay. While there aren’t any actual pelicans in the cast, this 1994 legal thriller brings ensemble heat: Stanley Tucci, Sam Shepard, John Heard, Tony Goldwyn, John Lithgow.

Rebecca and Jack interrogate if the film works as a thriller (our math maths at 70% cumbersome legal dialogue to 30% action sequences), review the refreshingly platonic chemistry between Roberts and Washington, and how while it ain’t as taut and atmospheric as Pakula’s paranoia classics of the 1970s, The Pelican Brief must have done something special with all those floppy disks to keep Rebecca coming back for countless rewatches in the 1990s.

The patriarchy enjoys regular energy injections from cinema (see: the James Bond franchise, Roadhouse, My Fair Lady). John Hughes gave it a big shot in the arm in 1985 with Weird Science.

Anthony Michael Hall and Ilan Mitchell-Smith star as uber losers Gary and Wyatt, who – with Playboy, Frankenstein, and bras as headwear – make a “perfect woman” they name Lisa (Kelly LeBrock).

With the help of Lisa, Gary and Wyatt stick up for themselves, gain confidence, and get girlfriends, evolving from boys to…somewhat older boys. Along the way they engage in some nonchalant racism, frequent homophobia, and rampant misogyny.

Weird Science was a big one for Rebecca, who watched it when it played perpetually on basic cable. It was also big for everybody (except for Jack, apparently, who somehow missed the film entirely).

Rebecca and Jack steel themselves for this specimen that has not aged well, interrogating a film that scrutinizes bodies as a plot point, and how it may have negatively impacted the self image of young cinephiles across the land. Is there someone to blame for that damage (it isn’t Lisa, she’s amazing), or is Weird Science a film we should simply chalk up to a sign of the times?

Han Solo and Indiana Jones were well established cinematic heroes when Witness was put into heavy VHS rotation at the Fons household. But in Peter Weir’s crime drama, Harrison Ford didn’t need a Millennium Falcon or a bullwhip to make a strong impression.

As Philly detective John Book, assigned to protect Amish mother Rachel (Kelly McGillis) and her son who witnessed the murder of an undercover cop, Ford’s performance – for which he received his first and only Academy Award nomination – is perfectly pitched for a role that is equal parts vulnerable and brash.

Foggy childhood memories of the film conjure a horrifying corn silo death, an Amish barn raising, and the “weird by why not” casting of Patti Lupone as John Book’s sister. Revisiting Witness decades later, Rebecca and Jack examine the nuance of Ford’s performances; the swooning, unconventional romance between Book and Rachel; and ask: is this a rare “perfect movie,” or is Rebecca wearing Harrison Ford-colored glasses?

When you were ten years old, if you weren't staying up late, eating Pizza Hut personal pan pizzas and watching The Hand That Rocks the Cradle on VHS at a sleepover with all your friends, what were you doing? In this trashy thriller, Claire (Annabella Sciorra) and her doofus husband Michael hire Peyton, (Rebecca De Mornay), the seemingly perfect nanny, to help them as they welcome a second child into their picture perfect home. Unbeknownst to them - but so obvious to their handyman Solomon (a show stealing Ernie Hudson, and yes we’ll attempt to unpack the power dynamics around that relationship) and Claire's bestie Marlene (a fabulous, cigarette smoking, red lipstick wearing Julianne Moore) - Peyton is a tragically barren and psychotically vengeful killer. Why doesn’t Claire do a background check on Peyton, what’s with the multiple references to H.M.S. Pinafore, why were the 1990s teeming with movies about threats to American domesticity, and why did preteen girls have a tendency to gravitate toward them? Grab a slice while we work it out.