Welcome back to We Came From Celluloid, the podcast that exists at the nexus of music, film, and middle-aged dudes who still believe they can make it. I'm Nicky P, here with Brian Pritchard - a man of a certain age who's about to go see Paul Thomas Anderson's new film in IMAX. And yes, I'm pushing the "dad band" thing just to drive it home. This week kicks off with Brian heading to see One Battle After Another, the new PTA movie that everyone's calling one of the best of the year. We get into what it means when a filmmaker has earned enough credibility that you just show up without needing to be sold. Spoiler: that's the level we're all chasing. But then things get weird. As they always do. What We Cover:

• Why Paul Thomas Anderson gets automatic credibility (and who else deserves it)
• My annual horror movie binge and the writeups I'm still catching up on from last year
• The X trilogy: Why Maxine worked better than the art-piece prequels
• Christmas horror movies: the good, the terrible, and the absolutely unwatchable
• Christmas Bloody Christmas and why killer robot Santa makes no goddamn sense
• How the technology exists for indie filmmaking but the distribution model is broken
• Kevin Smith's Clerks as proof that dialogue can overcome amateur everything else
• Horror's incredible forgiveness for low-budget films (when they have good ideas)
• The psychology of watching your heroes age and still create
• Our recent Puma Thurman show - the most poppy set we've ever played
• Why we're still waiting on the final version of "Stay Gold Pony Boy" to promote
• LaVonte's return to the band and how personnel changes affect performance energy
• The comfort level required to take creative risks on stage
• Delusional self-belief: the essential ingredient for any creative career
• Why staying polite might be holding us back from accomplishing shit
• The decade of obscurity that precedes every "overnight success"
• How Vola went from 50 people to 500 people by just keeping at it
• Tour strategies, targeted ads, and why digital marketing actually matters
• The lost episode concept: musical movie reviews
• Novelty songs, Weird Al's legacy, and why there's room for what we're doing
• SPONTANEOUS SONGWRITING SESSION: We write a song about Carrie in real-time
• Stephen King's wife's influence on the story (it's really about a girl's first period)
• Sissy Spacek's heartbreaking performance that never gets enough credit
• The universal horror of watching a child try to please an awful parent

The Real Talk: Look, we're not touring professionals. We're not selling out venues. We're middle-aged dudes with day jobs who happen to be really fucking good at what we do. And you know what? That requires a level of delusional self-belief that most sane people don't have. Brian and I have been doing this since we were 14 or 15 - professionally speaking. We've been telling ourselves for 10 years that we'll monetize this skill. We haven't cracked that nut yet, but we also haven't worked that hard at it. We follow ideas, we create, we perform, and we wait for the tools we need to actually be ready. Sometimes that's frustrating as hell. But it's also the only way anything good ever gets made. Creative Process Deep Dive - Writing "Carrie" in Real-Time: One of the coolest moments in this episode is when Brian literally reaches behind him, grabs a random DVD (which happens to be De Palma with Rebecca Romijn's Femme Fatale on the cover), and we settle on Carrie as our spontaneous songwriting subject. We craft phrases like:

• "The blood, it drips, the hair is thick, you're walking away from me"
• "You know too much, we know too much, and I can't bear to let you go"
• "Taking it to the neighbors, asking them for their change"
• "The big man doesn't know my name, while the little man screams and taunts me"

This is what we do. We take literal moments from films - Carrie's mom going door-to-door, the principal mispronouncing her name, the bully on the bike - and we twist them into something that works as both movie reference AND universal human experience. Key Moment - The Horror Movie Defense: I go off this episode about why horror movies are the absolute best genre for storytelling. Carrie is literally about a girl having her first period, being scared and confused, with a mother who makes everything worse. They took that very real, universal female experience and made it TERRIFYING. They raised the stakes to supernatural levels while keeping the emotional truth intact. That's what great horror does. And that's why slasher movies ruined everything - they pushed out all the thinky horror movies that actually had something to say. Bottom Line: We played a great show. Levente was back. Our chemistry was fire. -- We're waiting on final mixes. -- We're writing songs about Stephen King's menstruation metaphor. And we're still convinced - delusionally, perhaps - that this whole thing is going somewhere. Thanks for hanging out with us. Go listen to Puma Thurman. Tell your friends. And if you see us at a show, come talk movies at the merch table.

Welcome back to We Came From Celluloid, where two pop culture nerds and band geeks sit at the apex of music & film and tackle issues like why losing Robert Redford hits differently than other celebrities. I'm Nicky P, here with Brian Pritchard, and this week we're processing the death of one of the last true movie stars while somehow ending up deep in John Candy territory. Look, Redford's death wasn't unexpected - the guy was in his late eighties, had an incredible career both in front of and behind the camera, and left a legacy that includes Sundance. But it's got us thinking about what it means to be a bridge between classic Hollywood and the modern era, and which actors today carry that same weight. What We Cover:

• Robert Redford's final performance in The Old Man and the Gun
• The weird synchronicity of watching Spy Game right before Redford died
• Passing of the torch movies that worked (and the ones that failed)
• Why The Score with Brando, De Niro, and Norton didn't live up to expectations
• The Snake Plissken franchise that never was (and who could replace Kurt Russell)
• Wyatt Russell and the DNA of movie stardom
• Walt Disney's mysterious final words: "Kurt Russell"
• Christian Bale's incredible career transformation from Disney kid to method actor chameleon
• John Candy - possibly the warmest human who ever existed
• Why Planes, Trains, and Automobiles still makes us cry
• Career Opportunities and the five-minute scene-stealing power of pure sweetness
• Home Alone and the art of owning a movie with minimal screen time
• SCTV legends and the comedy that shaped a generation
• Why John Candy accomplished as much in 43 years as some actors do in twice that time

The Real Talk: Sometimes you start a podcast episode planning to discuss one Hollywood legend and end up on a completely different emotional journey. We began with Redford's sophisticated cool and ended up crying about John Candy's empathetic warmth. Both represent something we've lost in modern cinema - that ineffable quality that makes certain performers feel essential rather than replaceable. Deep Dive - Kurt Russell's Disney Mystery: Walt Disney's final written words were reportedly "Kurt Russell" along with some other TV project notes and the letters "CIA." Russell was a Disney kid actor at the time, and to this day, nobody knows exactly what Walt meant. Was he planning Russell's future? Was there a CIA connection? We don't know, and it's one of Hollywood's strangest unsolved mysteries. The John Candy Appreciation: Look, I might go so far as to say John Candy is my favorite human who ever existed. The guy died at 43 and left behind performances that are the foundation of a legacy that's hard to outmatch. From Uncle Buck to Home Alone to Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, he brought an authenticity and warmth that transcended comedy. He wasn't acting - he was channeling who he genuinely was as a human being into every role. Career Longevity Discussion: We explore what it means to have staying power in Hollywood. Kurt Russell started as a Disney kid in the 1960s and is still working. Christian Bale went from child actor to one of the most respected method performers alive. These aren't accidents - they're artists who evolved while maintaining their core appeal. Key Moments:

• Brian's weird timing watching Spy Game before Redford's death
• Our debate about whether Wyatt Russell could carry the Snake Plissken franchise
• The Walt Disney deathbed mystery and what it tells us about Hollywood legacy
• Why Christian Bale's willingness to transform himself (sometimes unflattering) sets him apart
• My emotional breakdown discussing John Candy's performance in Planes, Trains, and Automobiles
• The five-minute Career Opportunities scene that captures everything perfect about Candy
• SCTV nostalgia and the comedy that shaped our sensibilities

The Bottom Line: Some performers transcend their era and become permanent fixtures in our cultural memory. Robert Redford, Kurt Russell, Christian Bale, and John Candy all represent different aspects of what makes movie stardom special. Redford had the sophisticated cool, Russell has the everyman action hero appeal, Bale brings the transformative intensity, and Candy embodied pure human warmth. Modern Hollywood doesn't make stars like this anymore, and maybe that's why losing them hits so hard. Also Featured: Tangents about overlord, Thunderbolts, SCTV greatest hits packages from the library, Eugene Levy collaborations, Uncle Buck's threatening warmth, and why sometimes the best performances come from people just being themselves on camera. This episode is for anyone who's ever mourned an actor they never met but somehow felt like they knew. It's about the performers who define eras and the impossible task of replacing the irreplaceable. Subscribe, rate, and review We Came From Celluloid wherever you listen. Follow us on social media for behind-the-scenes content, movie recommendations, and more conversations about the films and music that shape our lives.

Welcome back to We Came From Celluloid, the podcast where two middle-aged dads from Ohio prove that expensive hobbies can occasionally pay for themselves. I'm Nicky P, here with Brian Pritchard, and this week we're diving deep into what happens when Tom Cruise's Lestat starts whispering song ideas in your head. Look, I'm not gonna pretend we're not a dad band. We are absolutely a dad band. But we are a dad band that takes this shit seriously, has perfected our skills over decades, and occasionally gets paid to do our expensive hobby. Try getting people to pay you hundreds of dollars to watch you play golf, Kevin from accounting. What We Cover:

• The psychology of being a middle-aged musician in business networking situations
• How Brian's "1212" song concept got hijacked by Tom Cruise's Lestat
• The dual vocal technique that's been haunting our performances
• Why Interview with the Vampire's villain makes the perfect song narrator
• The Jurassic Park song's real emotional origin story (spoiler: hospital waiting rooms)
• How personal trauma becomes movie-themed lyrics
• The art of hiding Easter eggs in music (including my planned "Nights in White Satin" sample)
• Rosemary's Baby and the beauty of dark lyrics over happy music
• Why collaborative songwriting is completely new territory for me

The Real Talk: Sometimes the best songs come from the worst moments. Brian's Jurassic Park track started as him processing his sister's emergency room visit, channeling that anxiety and hope into something that sounds like an emo band I'd never admit to listening to. But that's the magic - taking genuine human emotion and filtering it through our ridiculous movie obsession until it becomes something both funny and heartbreaking. Creative Process Deep Dive: We get into the nuts and bolts of how we work together - Brian starts with musical concepts and emotional foundations, I come in with the grand lyrical direction. It's collaborative in a way I've never experienced before, and it's producing some of our most emotionally resonant work. Key Moments:

• The moment Tom Cruise's Lestat invaded Brian's creative process
• My confession about performing songs with zero actual lyrics for months
• The parallel between Nicky's 12th birthday trauma and Brian's hospital anxiety
• Why Mother Mother's "Wrecking Ball" is the perfect example of beautiful/dark songwriting
• Brian considering repurposing drum tracks between songs

Bottom Line: We're finding that the best art happens when you stop fighting the weird intersections between high emotion and ridiculous source material. Tom Cruise makes a great narrator for songs about temptation. Sam Neil's relationship anxiety translates perfectly to emo songwriting. And sometimes you need a vampire whispering in your ear to find the right attitude for a track. This episode is for anyone who's ever had to explain their creative process to golf-playing business associates, anyone who finds emotional truth in horror movies, and definitely anyone who loves discovering Easter eggs in music. Ready to argue about whether we're taking this dad band thing too seriously? Follow us everywhere and tell us we're wrong. We can take it.

Welcome back to We Came From Celluloid, where film and music collide in the messiest, most honest way possible. I'm Nicky P, here with Brian Pritchard, and this week we're dealing with some heavy shit - the kind of losses that make you question everything while simultaneously getting excited about what comes next. August has been a month, folks. We lost Ozzy Osborne, Brent Hines from Mastodon, and earlier this year, David Lynch passed away. These aren't just dead heroes - they're creative voids that need to be filled. But here's the thing: loss creates opportunity. When giants fall, space opens up for new voices to emerge. What We Cover:

• Processing the deaths of musical and cinematic legends
• Why mass appeal usually makes Nicky stop liking things
• Brian's Danny Boyle deep dive and the Slumdog Millionaire Oscar backlash
• Our ongoing Jordan Peele debates (yes, we're still beating this dead horse)
• The Key & Peele legacy and why Keegan never found his footing
• Bad movies with musical components that are actually amazing
• Why Rob Zombie is talented but unwatchable
• House of 1000 Corpses and the lost cuts we'll never see
• The death of concise filmmaking in the digital age
• Movies that go into production without scripts (looking at you, Marvel)
• Hudson Hawk appreciation and Easter egg obsessions

The Deep Stuff: Brian gets philosophical about creative vacuums and how loss creates space for new artists. We talk about Aldous Huxley's "mind at large" theory and how friction in the creative process is essential - just like how everything in nature grows on the edges, where different environments meet. Music Talk:

• Why Nicky needs someone to rein in his creative indulgences
• The plan to bury a "Nights in White Satin" sample in our song "1212"
• How Easter eggs connect everything from movies to music
• The importance of having that "everyman" perspective in a band

Film Geek Moments: From Lynch's four-hour Dune cut to deleted scenes that are lost to time, we dive into the stuff that gets salvaged and what disappears forever. Plus, why modern movies are too damn long and how digital filmmaking enables creative indulgence. Key Takeaway: Death sucks, but it creates space. Whether it's Ozzy, Brent, or Lynch, their absence means new voices get a chance to step up. And that's actually pretty exciting, even when you're mourning the loss of your heroes. This episode is for anyone who's ever lost an artistic hero and wondered who would fill that void. It's for people who understand that the best art comes from friction, resistance, and those uncomfortable edges where different worlds collide. Ready to argue about Jordan Peele some more? Follow us everywhere and tell us we're wrong. We can take it.

Welcome back to We Came From Celluloid, where two middle-aged guys from Ohio continue to prove that you can combine your obsessions and somehow make it work. I'm Nicky P, back with Brian Pritchard for another deep dive into the beautiful intersection of music and movies - and this week, we're getting practical about it. Brian just got back from Nashville (Music City, as they insist on calling it), and what started as tourist observations quickly spiraled into the kind of conversation that only happens when two marketing guys decide to overthink the music business. Spoiler alert: we're still trying to figure out how to make money at this. What We Dive Into:

• Brian's Nashville adventure and the economics of Broadway's music scene
• Why cover gigs are actually paid practice (and why some musicians are too precious to get it)
• The great Nashville vs. Cleveland musician talent reality check
• My master plan to integrate movie clips into our live performances
• Technical proficiency vs. songwriting ability: the eternal struggle
• How Brian's been making "found footage" music videos since middle school
• Why KISS, Slipknot, Ghost, and Sleep Token are basically the same lineage (fight us)
• The deeper meaning behind our "Children of the Corn" song that nobody asked for

The Real Talk: Look, we've been doing this for over 20 years, and we still haven't cracked the code on making money from music. But we're marketing guys, so we know there's got to be a way. This episode is basically us workshopping our latest scheme: turn every Puma Thurman show into a multimedia experience where movie quotes and film clips create a narrative between songs. Key Moments:

• Brian's "retirement plan" of being a drummer in Nashville instead of a Walmart greeter
• My confession about performing half our songs with completely made-up lyrics
• The moment we realize technical skill doesn't equal songwriting ability
• Our heated debate about whether Ghost and Sleep Token deserve to be mentioned with KISS
• Brian revealing the hidden addiction metaphor in our horror movie song

The Bottom Line: We're essentially trying to become the masters of ceremonies for our own shows, creating experiences that people can't get from Spotify. Because let's face it - if someone wants good songs, they can find them at home. If they want a show that combines their love of movies and music into something they've never seen before, they need to come see us. Fair Warning: We get into some deep discussions about the nature of emotion vs. intellect in art creation, the economics of regional music scenes, and why Built to Spill writes complete nonsense for lyrics (which, honestly, is aspirational for me). Also, Brian makes some controversial statements about masked metal bands that might get us canceled in certain circles. This episode is for anyone who's ever wondered if you can make a living playing music, anyone who's tried to balance artistic integrity with paying the bills, and definitely anyone who's ever thought "What if we just added more movie references to everything?"

Welcome back to We Came From Celluloid, where film and music crash together like a beautiful disaster that somehow works. I'm Nicky P, back with Brian Pritchard for another deep dive into the stuff that keeps us up at night - and trust me, after this conversation, you're gonna understand why we can't just talk about movies like normal people. This week started simple enough: Brian saw Superman three times in a week. Not because it was life-changing cinema, but because he's got that Regal Unlimited pass and three different friend groups wanted the IMAX experience. But what started as a James Gunn love-fest quickly spiraled into the kind of conversation that gets people unfriended on Facebook. What We Dive Into:

• Why James Gunn's Superman works (and why Brian will defend it to the death)
• The difference between storytelling with a point of view versus agenda-driven filmmaking
• How Jessica Jones Season 2 became the poster child for "how to destroy your own show"
• Black Panther, representation, and why marketing messages can backfire
• The fine line between celebrating culture and creating division
• Why good exposition matters more than politics
• Our completely unplanned journey from Superman to Jordan Peele to Queens of the Stone Age

The Real Talk: Look, we went places this episode. We talked about representation in ways that might make some folks uncomfortable, but that's kind of the point. Brian and I don't agree on everything, but we're both parents trying to raise kids in a world where every piece of entertainment comes with a dissertation attached. Sometimes you just want to watch a movie without getting lectured. Key Moments:

• Brian's defense of James Gunn's timely-but-timeless approach to Superman
• My rant about Jessica Jones Season 2 and why bad writing ruins everything
• Our discussion on whether pride movements help or hurt long-term progress
• Why I still haven't seen Black Panther (and it's not for the reasons you think)
• The moment we realize we've been talking for an hour and haven't mentioned collectibles once

The Bottom Line: Good storytelling transcends politics. Bad storytelling ruins everything, regardless of how noble your intentions. James Gunn understands this. The writers of Jessica Jones Season 2 did not. And somehow this all connects to why Queens of the Stone Age sounds different live than on record. This episode is for anyone who's tired of having to choose between enjoying art and agreeing with the artist's politics. It's for parents trying to figure out how to raise kids who can think critically without being cynical. And it's definitely for anyone who's ever wondered why some directors get to keep making movies while others disappear after one studio disaster. Fair Warning: We get into some heavy topics around representation, politics in media, and cultural division. If you're looking for light entertainment commentary, maybe skip to the part where we talk about Nicholas Hoult as Lex Luthor. But if you're ready for an honest conversation about how entertainment shapes culture (and vice versa), buckle up. Ready to argue with us in the comments? Follow us everywhere and tell us why we're wrong. We can take it.

Welcome to We Came From Celluloid, the podcast that exists at the nexus between film and music - because why choose just one obsession when you can have them all? I'm Nicky P, here with my partner-in-crime Brian Pritchard, and we're basically trying to create the Voltron of pop culture commentary.

This inaugural episode dives deep into our recent punk show experience, where we supported longtime friend Joey Steel's band Cop Out. It's been years since either of us stepped into that raw, unfiltered punk scene, and the reflections are... well, let's just say they're honest.

What We Cover:

• Our recent DIY punk show experience - storefront venues, broken mics, and all

• The difference between professional polish and punk authenticity

• Why technical proficiency isn't always the point (and when it matters)

• How Puma Thurman fits into the spectrum between Weird Al and Queens of the Stone Age

• The evolution from trying to be "serious musicians" to embracing controlled chaos

• Why front men feel unapproachable (even to other musicians)

• Reconnecting with old friends who became touring punk warriors

• The beauty of simple song structures vs. 10-minute prog epics

Key Takeaways: Brian breaks down why seeing old friends succeed in their artistic vision feels so rewarding, even when their paths diverge from yours. I reflect on rediscovering the joy of not taking yourself too seriously while still caring deeply about the craft. We both grapple with the tension between wanting to sound "professional" and embracing the beautiful messiness that makes punk special.

The Puma Thurman Philosophy: We're somewhere between comedy and sincerity, between technical prowess and emotional truth. Think Tenacious D's earnestness mixed with Ween's genre-hopping, but with a healthy dose of film obsession thrown in for good measure.

This episode is for anyone who's ever wondered if they can go home again to scenes they've outgrown, or if growth means leaving authenticity behind. Spoiler alert: the answer is complicated, and that's exactly what makes it interesting.

Ready to join the conversation? Follow us on all platforms and tell us about your own experiences navigating artistic evolution while staying true to your roots.