FOLLOWING FILMS - Podcast, Movies, Music, and More

The year 1990 was a transitional crossroads for Hollywood romance. On one side of the ledger, audiences were treated to the glossy, heavily sanitized fantasy of Pretty Woman, a film that corporate capitalism could easily digest. On the other side stood director Luis Mandoki’s White Palace, a sweatier, rowdier, and fundamentally more honest look at human connection. Based on Glenn Savan’s novel, the film is an interesting, deeply authentic artifact of an era when major studios still made explicit, character-driven adult dramas. While it falters under the weight of traditional Hollywood expectations in its final act, the picture remains an incredibly compelling study of how social class, profound grief, and ageism warp the architecture of a relationship. At the center of this collision are two individuals who should never have crossed paths. Max Baron, played with cold, repressed elegance by a twenty-seven-year-old James Spader, is a successful St. Louis advertising executive. Max is a n...

In the late summer of 1977, American cinema was undergoing a massive tectonic shift. Audiences were standing in lines wrapped around city blocks to escape into space-opera visuals, while the counter-culture grit of the early part of the decade was gradually giving way to slick, neon-drenched escapism. Tucked quietly behind these massive pop-culture milestones was a small, independently financed romantic melodrama that managed to carve out its own strange corner of history. That film was You Light Up My Life, a movie written, directed, produced, and scored by Joseph Brooks. While the film itself has largely faded into a historical footnote, its titular song became a towering behemoth of the late-seventies airwaves. Yet, looking past the shadow of its chart-topping theme song reveals a piece of cinema that is fascinatingly odd, deeply flawed, and uniquely representative of its era. The story centers on Laurie Robinson, played by Didi Conn in her first major leading role just a year befor...

The 1984 teen sex comedy Lovelines (frequently referred to as Love Lines) is a fascinating cultural artifact. Directed by Rod Amateau, a veteran of mid-century television sitcoms like The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis, the film exists as a bizarre, hyper-saturated time capsule of mid-1980s American youth culture. It is a movie that attempts to be absolutely everything to everyone at a specific moment in cinematic history. It tries to function as a modern teen variation on Romeo and Juliet, a raunchy flesh-baring sex romp, a fully realized rock musical, a showcase for practical high school pranks, and a fourth-wall-breaking vehicle for Michael Winslow of Police Academy fame. By refusing to pick a single narrative lane, the film careens wildly between genres, delivering a viewing experience that is simultaneously exhausting, baffling, and undeniably entertaining for connoisseurs of pure vintage cheese. At its core, the thin narrative outline centers on an intense, cross-town rivalry between...

The late 1980s neon-noir landscape is littered with forgotten titles that briefly flared in video rental shops before vanishing into obscurity. Among these, the 1987 thriller Cold Steel occupies a fascinating, almost surreal position. Directed by Dorothy Ann Puzo, daughter of The Godfather author Mario Puzo, the film attempts to straddle the line between the gritty, psychological torment of early decade urban crime and the bombastic, explosive action of the emerging blockbusters. At its center is Brad Davis, an actor whose intense, trembling energy frequently threatened to burst the confines of standard genre cinema. Watched today, Cold Steel stands as a fascinating time capsule, a film of wild tonal shifts, remarkable character actors, and a frantic, sweaty desperation that feels entirely distinct from the slickly manufactured thrillers of modern cinema. The narrative structure of Cold Steel begins with an abrupt subversion of holiday cheer. Brad Davis plays Detective Johnny Modine, a...

The mid-1980s marked a distinct, hyper-kinetic era for Hollywood cinema, a period when the sudden explosion of MTV transformed the visual language of studio filmmaking. Pop music and synchronized choreography were no longer just elements of the classic studio musical, but instead became the vital tissue driving youth culture on screen. Within this landscape, a fascinating intersection occurred when Sidney Poitier, an icon of classical Hollywood dignity, stepped behind the camera to direct the 1985 dance drama Fast Forward. Coming off a string of successful comedies, Poitier shifted gears to capture the neon-soaked, synth-driven energy of the decade, resulting in a film that remains a fascinating, earnest, and deeply rhythmic artifact of its time. The narrative structure follows a blueprint that is comforting in its familiarity. A group of exceptionally talented, starry-eyed high school students from Sandusky, Ohio, calling themselves The Adventurous Eight, leave their small-town lives ...

The action-thriller genre has long been dominated by a specific archetype: the aging male operative pulled out of retirement for one final, deeply personal mission. Audiences have watched stars like Liam Neeson, Jason Statham, and Gerard Butler turn the "unbreakable protector" into a lucrative cinematic staple. Yet, with Adrian Grünberg’s Protector, the sandbox gets a refreshing, high-octane shakeup. Milla Jovovich steps into the frame, proving that after decades of anchoring high-concept sci-fi and horror franchises, she remains one of the most dedicated and physically commanding action icons working today. The film may walk down a familiar, well-trodden path, but Jovovich’s relentless energy elevates the material into a gritty, satisfying ride. The narrative blueprint of Protector, penned by Bong-Seob Mun, pulls no punches about its structural roots. It leans directly into the high-stakes, ticking-clock mechanics of modern vigilante thrillers. Jovovich stars as Nikki Halste...

There is a moment early in Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie where Matt Johnson stands atop the absolute highest tip of the CN Tower antenna, buffeted by high winds, preparing to skydive into a packed Rogers Centre. The goal is simple, yet completely unhinged: parachute into a live Toronto Blue Jays game to announce that his two-man, instrument-free band is playing a gig at the Rivoli that night. They do not have a gig booked at the Rivoli. They do not even have songs written.   If you have followed director Matt Johnson and co-creator Jay McCarrol since their early web series days or their cult Viceland television show, you already know the vibe. If you are walking into this feature-length cinematic manifestation completely blind, you might feel like you have accidentally ingested a dangerous amount of caffeine and nostalgia. Distributed by NEON, this film is a magnificent, boundary-pushing triumph of independent comedy. It is a movie that defies the sterile, focus-grouped...

Ultraman: Towards the Future (1990) When we talk about the sprawling legacy of Tsuburaya Productions, the early 1990s often feel like a forgotten frontier. After Ultraman 80 ended its run in 1981, the franchise went into a sort of live-action hibernation on television. The silence was finally broken not in Tokyo, but in the rugged landscapes of South Australia. Ultraman: Towards the Future (known in Japan as Ultraman Great ) stands as a fascinating anomaly: a high-concept, environmentally conscious co-production that attempted to westernize the Giant of Light without stripping away his soul. The series opens with an ambitious scope. Astronauts Jack Shindo and Stanley Haggard are exploring the surface of Mars when they witness a titanic struggle between a silver giant and a grotesque, pulsating entity known as Gudis. This isn't just a monster-of-the-week; Gudis is a sentient virus, a cosmic cancer that seeks to assimilate all life. When Stanley is killed and Jack is left strand...

The release of Adventure Calls! Karl May at CCC marks a significant milestone for North American fans of European cult cinema. For decades, the massive popularity of Karl May in Germany was something of a mystery to American audiences, but this collection from the Masters of Cinema series finally provides a definitive look at the lavish, globe-trotting spectacles produced by Artur Brauner. These films represent a bridge between the classic Hollywood adventures of the fifties and the more gritty, violent landscapes of the Spaghetti Western, offering a brand of escapism that is as visually stunning as it is historically fascinating. Karl May was a man who famously wrote about worlds he had never visited, yet his ability to capture the spirit of adventure made him a literary titan. Brauner’s CCC Film took that literary spirit and translated it into a cinematic language that dominated European box offices throughout the sixties. Old Shatterhand and Winnetou and Shatterhand in the Valley of...

When it comes to the golden age of the drive-in, few experiences could match the sheer, unadulterated joy of the double feature. It was a time when narrative logic took a backseat to high-concept monsters and the kind of atmospheric grime that only a low-budget production could provide. VCI Entertainment has tapped directly into that nostalgia with their Creepy Double Feature line, and their latest Blu-ray pairing brings together two titans of 1963 psychotronic cinema: The Crawling Hand and The Slime People. This disc is a celebration of a very specific era in independent filmmaking—a moment where the atomic dread of the fifties began to melt into the weird, pop-infused sensibilities of the early sixties. On one hand, you have the localized, noir-tinged horror of a space-borne limb terrorizing a California boarding house; on the other, a sprawling, fog-drenched vision of a subterranean invasion that turns Los Angeles into a claustrophobic wasteland. While these films were birthed from ...