Reel Deep Dive

Reel Deep Dive

By Ryan ValentineArtsPerforming Arts
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Reel Deep Dive episodes

  • House (1977)

    A dazzlingly unique cult film directed by Nobuhiko Obayashi, House follows seven teenage girls as they unwittingly enter a realm haunted by the bitter (and voracious) ghost of a woman waiting in vain for her long dead fiancé. That's a fairly basic premise for a haunted house feature, but Obayashi's avant garde instincts collide in kaleidoscopic ways with the movie's homemade special effects, amateur performances, odd musical score, and the studio's insistence that there be nudity. The result is an expressionistic and madcap film that stands alone in the cinematic landscape; it's certainly very different from Jaws (1975), which producers asked Obayashi to imitate when House was in its developmental phase.


    Ryan is joined by Sylvan and (in his debut episode) Jesse. Ryan's been wanting to record a podcast about House for ages, but he really wanted to do it with someone who'd never seen it before and had no idea what they were in for. Jesse is a big theater geek, so they were very much into the film and they contribute a great deal to the ensuing dialogue.

    Talking points for this one include House's abrupt tonal shifts, its subtextual cues to World War II, the storytelling's byzantine approach to feminine exploitation, and how Obayashi's background in filming commercials influenced his creative choices for the film. 

    47 min
  • Carnival Of Souls (1962)

    The first and only feature film by producer/director Herk Harvey, Carnival Of Souls was made under a quick timetable and with little money; like the German Expressionist films it borrows from, this movie relies heavily upon inexpensive atmospheric elements that are supposed to showcase the psychological interiority of its characters. It made little impact upon its initial release, but Carnival Of Souls instantly fell into the public domain due to a clerical error and it gradually grew a cult audience due to its prevalence in late night TV broadcasts, cut rate home video releases, and frequent screenings at horror movie festivals in independent theaters during October.


    Ryan is joined by Sylvan and Cheryl for this dialogue. Discussion topics include Candace Hilligoss' anchoring performance, interpreting Carnival Of Souls through feminist film theory, and how the struggles of the movie's protagonist have parallels to living as a neurodivergent person.

    36 min
  • Puppet Master (1989)

    Slapped together under a shoestring budget and released directly to video by schlock movie mogul Charles Band, Puppet Master was an instant cult hit that launched the longest running franchise of the infamous Full Moon Features content farm. As of this date, there are over a dozen sequels when you factor in crossovers, reboots, and spinoffs. None of these movies are particularly good by most standards of taste, but they've clearly made some kind of impression on the movie watching public. At the insistence of Cheryl and Pete, Ryan has recorded a discussion about how Puppet Master was made, who made it, and what he thinks the creative team was trying to say.


    Subtextual matters that factor into the dialogue include the popularity of killer dolls in low budget horror movies, the role that direct-to-video plays in the bottom lines of both video rental outlets and the streaming services that replaced them, and Puppet Master's decision to (sort of) use Nazis as bad guys in its opening scene.

    30 min
  • Hellraiser (1987)

    Adapted from his own novella, Clive Barker's directorial efforts on Hellraiser are often lambasted for their amateurish touch and brusque storytelling (and few critics were harsher about it than Barker himself). Still, Hellraiser struck a chord with audiences for its bold ambition, its uncompromising commitment to the grotesque, and its unapologetic exploration of sadomasochism. This film led to nine direct sequels, an upcoming reboot, and a barrage of merchandise and brand extensions. The film's principle monster, nicknamed Pinhead by the crew, also become an unlikely October kitsch mascot in the same vein of Dracula, Freddy Krueger, and The Crypt Keeper; Ryan finds is extremely odd that this cosmic leather pervert can be frequently seen on paper plates at children's Halloween parties.  


    Ryan is joined by Rachel for a dialogue about this movie, which is something of an outlier when contrasted against Halloween (1978), Friday The 13th (1980), A Nightmare On Elm Street (1984) and other horror franchises that began in this period. Talking points include Edmund Burke's theories about sublimity, Friedrich Nietzsche's interpretation of Apollo and Dionysus, Camille Paglia's reinterpretation of Apollo and Dionysus, and why Rachel has a crush on Pinhead.  

    57 min
  • The Invisible Man (1933)

    Pitched shortly after the success of Dracula (1931), but not put into development until after Frankenstein (1931), The Invisible Man outgrossed most of its predecessors in the Universal Monsters megafranchise and is probably one the main reasons why the studio kept cranking these things out for the next twenty-five years. Reasonably faithful to its source novel (H.G. Wells had veto power over the script), The Invisible Man is fondly remembered for its groundbreaking visual effects; the film predates the widespread adoption of green screen technology by decades and treated audiences to something that nobody had ever seen before. This movie also benefits greatly by a manic, over-the-top performance by Claude Rains, making his sound debut.


    Ryan is joined by Sylvan and Cheryl for this discussion. Talking points mostly center upon the film's use of queercoding. Among other things, the dialogue delves into Hollywood's fondness for portraying antagonists as foppish, effeminate, and sassy dandies, the ways that director James Whale expressed his queerness in his art, the complex relationship between gay culture and camp, and gay culture's ambivalent relationships with villainous characters with obvious queer subtext.

    Ryan does, however, go on a tirade about the trope regarding "man meddling in things best left to God".

    35 min
  • Rock & Rule (1983)

    Rock & Rule was the first animated feature produced by Nelvana, a Canadian studio that created a great deal of content that younger Gen X and older millennials have substantial regard for. While it was first pitched as a children's movie, three years of development resulted in Rock & Rule becoming an adult-skewing, post-apocalyptic parable centering on a rock band using their harmonies to prevent a demonic summoning. It boasts vivid multi-plane camera effects, surprisingly smooth animation, oddly memorable character designs, and a soundtrack featuring Blondie, Cheap Trick, Iggy Pop, Lou Reed, and Earth, Wind, And Fire.


    Rock & Roll was a box office disaster and its never been easy to find on physical media or streaming, but it gradually grew a cult audience through persistent bootlegging. Keeping to tradition, Ryan and Cheryl watched a pirated version of Rock & Rule since the official channels wanted twenty goddamned dollars to rent the thing. Their conversation about the film delves into thematic points such as the story's interpretation of femininity, the role of punk and new wave in the narrative, how animation gets pigeonholed in the North American entertainment market, and how the cyberpunk aesthetic plays into the movie's presentation. 

    41 min
  • Death To Smoochy (2002)

    This episode centers upon a film about the seedy underbelly of children's entertainment. A scummy kid's TV host (Robin Williams) loses his gig after getting caught up in a bribery scandal. His replacement (Edward Norton) is a wholesome, guileless entertainer who has to contend with the sabotage attempts made by his predecessor, but his true test comes when his well-defined ethical code is tested by the widespread corruption and late stage capitalistic excesses of the modern media landscape. Catherine Keener, Harvey Fierstein, Jon Stewart, Pam Ferris, Michael Rispoli, Vincent Schiavelli, and Danny Woodburn give supporting performances.


    Death To Smoochy was a critical and commercial bellyflop upon its 2002 release, but a teenage Ryan caught it on home video and fell in love with the movie. He subjected his siblings and a good chunk of his friend circle to the feature and it took with them as well. Because of this, Ryan was convinced that, at some point, Death To Smoochy would be reappraised and ultimately become a cult favorite a la Office Space or Clue. That never really happened, resulting in Ryan's social circle containing yet another assortment of pop culture reference jokes that nobody else had any recognition of.

    So yes, the stakes are low and they're getting even lower as Ryan and Rachel discuss this mostly-forgotten dark comedy by director Danny DeVito (we're not expecting too many clicks for this one). Thematic undercurrents under discussion include the principles of stoicism, generational divides, the rampant commercialism in children's media, and several questions about how this movie has never really been able to connect with a wide audience.

    53 min
  • F For Fake (1977)

    It's often said that movies are magic, but that's another way of saying that movies are a trick. Movies are made when a director stages and/or captures an assortment of scenarios and then, through careful editing, a pile of raw footage is pared down and spliced together to form a narrative. This process is filled with deliberate artifice and its goal is to manipulate its audience in some way. The master craftsmen of filmmaking are able to use the stories they create to slyly influence the people who watch them in ways that have sent innumerable reverberations throughout modern society.


    Cinema as a medium for misdirection is the stated agenda of F For Fake, the last completed film directed by Orson Welles. This movie began as a straightforward documentary about the life of infamous art forger Elmyr de Hory, but Welles ultimately seized control of the production from original director François Reichenbach and took things in a radically new direction. This happened after it was discovered that Elmyr's biographer Clifford Irving had fabricated a celebrated interview with reclusive aviator/film producer Howard Hughes; tickled by this revelation, Welles wanted to explore the intricacies of charlatanism through the various tricks and gimmicks that populate the filmmaker's arsenal. Among other things, this includes fake news broadcasts, misleading edits, and a few bits of performance art by Welles' mistress Oja Kodar.

    Largely rejected upon its original release, F For Fake eventually gained an appreciative cult audience and it's occasionally argued as an interesting precursor to the mockumentary and the video essay. Ryan is joined by Cheryl for the discussion about this one; talking points include the movie's stated premise, the important context that F For Fake omits from its narrative, the shadow that Orson Welles casts over pop culture, and the antics of Pablo Picasso.   

    34 min
  • His Girl Friday (1940)

    One of the defining films of the screwball comedy genre, His Girl Friday was released to an indifferent audience in 1940. However, because Columbia failed to renew its copyright, the film lapsed into the public domain and steadily grew an appreciative cult audience due to constant broadcasts on TV stations in need of cheap timeslot filler. It's now considered one of the strongest films produced during the Golden Age of Hollywood and is a core entry in the filmographies of director Howard Hawks and co-leads Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell.


    Ryan is joined by Rachel for a discussion about how His Girl Friday plays into the history and evolution of romcoms. One talking point is how the movie's cheeky, rapid-fire badinage has influenced everything from Quentin Tarantino to Aaron Sorkin to the Marvel movies. Other things brought up include Cary Grant's ad-libs, how the script dances around the restrictions of the Hays Code, the story's approach to political corruption, how Hildy's gender altered (and didn't alter) the movie's plot, the film's oddly-buried racial subtext, and how His Girl Friday playfully nods to its thematic roots in Shakespeare and Austen.  

    53 min
  • Waking Life (2001)

    Shot by Richard Linklater and meticulously rotoscoped under a tight budget, Waking Life centers upon an unnamed protagonist who gradually realizes that he's roving through a seemingly-endless dream world. When not subjecting the viewer to surreal and psychedelic imagery, Waking Life spends most of its running time on a series of conversations and monologues about existentialism, Buddhism, the nature of dreams, death, desire, Philip K. Dick, and metaphysics. Depending upon your perspective and your tolerance for cinematic naval gazing, Waking Life can be profound, pretentious, or a little bit of both.


    Weird animation and babbling on about abstract philosophical theories is catnip to Ryan, so it was likely only a matter of time before he used Waking Life as a subject for this podcast. He's subjecting Cheryl to this one as cohost (she lands firmly on "a little of both" in the question of whether the film is profound or pretentious). Talking points for this one include several of the film's stated themes, but also the movie's tango-inflected score, the unfortunate Alex Jones cameo, the connection between this movie and better-known Linklater projects like Dazed & Confused, Slacker, and the Before Trilogy, and the qualities of rotoscoped animation (Cheryl, coming from an animation background, often finds the process to be lazy and jarring).

    36 min

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