Trauma Box

For our thirteenth episode - lucky as ever - Tyler and Shawn tuck into the Osterman Weekend, legendary director Sam Peckinpah's final film. Its iconic VHS box - which features the feline Meg Foster wielding some kind of cyberbow - has plagued our Boxketeers for decades, and let us tell you, this one delivers the goods. And by goods, we mean bads. It's a muddled mess torn between the aesthetics of two decades and the ethoses of at least three genres. But! If you enjoy watching shadowy people watch other people have sex on TV monitors, this is the film for you! Tune in for our deep dive, and do check out our Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/traumaboxpodcast

Today we recruit friend of the pod Aerin Ercolea, musician, poet, and intrepid Trauma-Spelunker. She brings her past to the present via the greatest presence of the past: motherfuckin' DINOS. "Fantastic Dinosaurs of the Movies" is a dollar bin compilation of 1950s and 1960s monster movie trailers that was foundational to her childhood mythology. Sadly, it's a bit scant on the actual dinos, but hey, we still talk some amateur dinosaurology, the eroticism of humanoid troodons, Pittsburgh hoagies, and kaiju anatomy. Turn out, tune on, drop dino facts.

Trauma Box takes our first peek into the vast world of Albert Pyun with a visit to his first feature, 1982's The Sword and the Sorcerer. Pyun is a figure that many Trauma Box listeners will be familiar with, if not by name then certainly via the iconic VHS boxes of his innumerable direct-to-video offerings. Pyun's ouevre typically evinces a fascination with martial arts and cyborgs, as seen in films like uh, Kickboxer 2 and Cyborg. But before Pyun found his true calling in that particular vein of trash, he hit blockbuster success with The Sword and the Sorcerer, a fantasy/barbarian flick that, we were surprised to discover, pre-dated Conan the Barbarian. Unfortunately, it's...not great, but veterans of Pyunville will be hardly shocked by this. Expect winsome smirks, blows-to-the-groin, harem babes turkey legs, and other other classic tropes of the sword & sandals genre, all tinged with Pyun's blundersome touch!

This week, in announcement of the launch of our Patreon, Trauma Box deviates from our standard-issue format to discuss one of Shawn's Foundational Childhood Texts: Darby O'Gill and the Little People. This quirky 1959 Disney flick features sumptuous production, ponderous pacing, and a smirking, decidedly-not-Irish young Sean Connery. Join for our in-depth discussion of generational Disney aesthetics, vintage special effects techniques, and of course, Childhood Trauma. And please do check out our Patreon for more exciting things to come!

www.patreon.com/traumaboxpodcast

This week, the Trauma Box pops open with Skin Deep, a 1989 offering from the senescent Blake Edwards. Beauty is, as they say, only skin deep, and apparently so are bad movies. Skin Deep's legendarily ribald VHS box proves misleading, as the film contained therein lies much closer to Leaving Las Vegas than Revenge of the Nerds. Consider it a cautionary tale, with the moral being: never cast John Ritter (as much as we do love him) in a role written for Dudley Moore. The sex addict gags and boozehound travails ring as perfunctory and cudgeling in the absence of Moore's British Wit. But fear not - your noble Trauma Boxers have once again stepped in to take these punches in your stead!

Trauma Box goes bawdy this week, as Tyler and Shawn get tackled by Summer Job, Paul Madden's neon-swathed sex comedy from 1989. An unremarkable but admirably good-humored cast slog through third rate gags pulled from Police Academy and Porky's, and we're right there slogging through it with them. As if that wasn't decadent enough, we even get a performance from former ELO members moonlighting as OrKestra, and it's as middling and feeble as you might possibly imagine. You may well spend the film as we did: asking the question "will there be a cameo from a dog wearing sunglasses?" But who knows, you might also learn how to do the Primrose Porpoise along the way.

Our Boxketeers become three this week, as artist Arthur Peña joins Tyler and Shawn to discuss one of his childhood video traumas: Killer Klowns from Outer Space. We dive deep into this foundational classic of VHS terror, covering oft-neglected topics like klown physics, confetti ontology, and, of course, alien sex. Inevitably, we will raise more questions than we can answer, but that's the name of the game here on Trauma Box. Scope Arthur's awesome work at https://www.arthurdpena.com/

This week, our intrepid Trauma Boxers brave Breeders, erotic auteur Tim Kincaid's 1986 direct-to-video grime-fest.The man behind Mutant Hunt, Robot Holocaust, and LA Tool & Die brings us seventy-odd minutes of unhinged post-C.H.U.D. NYC nightmare. It's a gross and grim affair, but oddly joyous in a Brecht-meets-Waters kind of way. At Trauma Box, we brave the bottom of the trash bin so you, dear listener, don't have to.

Tyler and Shawn explore a different corner of the Trauma Box this week with 1985's Tomboy. A staple of video store shelves of yore, Tomboy's iconic cover had wedged itself in the psyches of both hosts. What did we discover upon viewing? It's Flashdance with none of the heart meets Porky's with half the wit - that is to say: it's pretty good! Join us this week for a bawdier-than-usual breeze through the Trauma Box.

The Trauma Box bites back this week with Xtro, Harry Bromley Davenport's offering from 1982, an impossibly grim and upsettingly British ode to ooze. Why do we keep watching horrific films with dead/absent fathers and animated toys? What the hell is our problem? And, more pressingly, what drugs was Harry Bromley Davenport on?