Cozy Quilt Cinema

This week we're ditching the usual format and pulling up a pillow inside the Blanket Fort with our friend Pat Green. No Stitch Count this time. Just three people talking about a movie and following the conversation wherever it goes. The movie is Gypsy 83, the 2001 indie about two goth misfits in Sandusky, Ohio, Gypsy Vale and her best friend Clive Webb, who pile into a beat up Trans Am and head for New York City and the Night of a Thousand Stevies, an annual tribute to Stevie Nicks. Along the way they run into a washed up cabaret singer, a runaway Amish teenager, and a lot of unresolved family history. What starts as a conversation about a scrappy little indie road trip movie turns into something much bigger: bravery, chosen family, the exhaustion of being called brave just for being yourself, and what it means to stop performing for people who aren't there anymore. Pat brings a lot of his own life into this one, and it makes for one of the most personal conversations we've had on this show. Grab a blanket and join us.

This week, we’re heading for the high seas with Muppet Treasure Island (1996), in memory of the brilliant and wonderful, Tim Curry. Tim Curry’s Long John Silver is charming, dangerous, funny, warm, and somehow exactly the person you want Jim Hawkins to stay away from and become best friends with at the same time. Because yes, he’s a thief. Yes, he’s a pirate. But also, it’s Tim Curry. We talk about Curry’s remarkable ability to make menace feel like an invitation, why he treated the Muppets as completely real scene partners, and the heart he brings to a role he genuinely loved. Along the way, we get into Jim Henson’s legacy, Rizzo quietly carrying half the movie, Miss Piggy’s surprisingly impressive gams, found family, the dangers of charisma, and why growing older sometimes changes the way we connect with the things we loved as kids. Mostly, though, this one is for Tim. For the laughter, the voice, the music, the villains we couldn’t help loving, and a career that gave us so many reasons to keep inviting him into the blanket fort.

This week on Cozy Quilt Cinema, we are taking a quiet moment to remember Dolly Parton with 9 to 5 (1980), the feminist workplace comedy that gave us one of her most iconic songs and one of her most memorable performances. Dolly stars alongside Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin as three women pushed to the breaking point by their sexist, egotistical, lying, hypocritical boss, played to oily perfection by Dabney Coleman. What follows is part workplace revenge fantasy, part sharp feminist satire, and somehow still painfully relevant more than four decades later. We talk about the sexism and wage inequality at the heart of 9 to 5, the sheer joy of watching three underestimated women discover just how capable they are, and why kidnapping your boss apparently does wonders for office productivity. But this episode is also about Dolly herself. Her kindness, her humor, her generosity, her allyship, the lives she touched, and the way she seemed to understand that making the world better meant actually doing something about it. We share some of the things she gave back, what she meant to us, and why losing her feels like losing someone who had simply always been there. So grab your Mama's coverlet, get into the blanket fort, and join us for working women, rhinestones, a little righteous anger, and a whole lot of love as we remember Dolly Parton. And, of course, we put 9 to 5 through the Stitch Count to see whether this quilt of a movie still holds together. Mentioned in the episode:  The Play That Goes Wrong 

It’s 2263. We have flying cars, restaurants that come directly to your window, apartments the size of closets, and somehow humanity is still a mess. So naturally, the fate of the world rests with a burned-out taxi driver and a perfect being who takes one look at human history and immediately develops anxiety. This week on Cozy Quilt Cinema, we’re talking about The Fifth Element (1997), Luc Besson’s bright, bizarre, wildly fashionable sci-fi adventure starring Bruce Willis, Milla Jovovich, Gary Oldman, Ian Holm, and Chris Tucker. We get into Leeloo’s surprisingly heartbreaking journey, Corbin Dallas being perpetually comedy-adjacent, Ruby Rhod turning everything up to eleven, Jean Paul Gaultier dressing the apocalypse, and Zorg repeatedly demonstrating why you should always open the case before leaving the scene of the crime. We also talk about consent, dystopia with all the lights turned on, whether love really is the fifth element, why everyone treats the Supreme Being like a very expensive tool, and how a movie this ridiculous still manages to have something genuine to say about choosing to care about a world that gives you plenty of reasons not to. Then we put The Fifth Element through the Stitch Count to see how this colorful future holds up nearly thirty years later.

In As Good as It Gets (1997), Jack Nicholson’s Melvin Udall is a romance novelist who seems determined to keep the entire world at arm’s length, that is until Helen Hunt’s Carol, Greg Kinnear’s Simon, and one ridiculously lovable monkey-faced little dog start getting through the armor. This week, we talk about Melvin’s OCD without confusing it with the many other ways he can be an absolute ass, whether Carol really should be anywhere near this man romantically, and why Simon may be the person who actually teaches Melvin how to open his heart. We get into loneliness, isolation, found family, mental health, the myth that love magically fixes people, and the much harder truth that change takes work, one crack-avoiding step at a time. Along the way, there’s Verdell, Jack Nicholson and Helen Hunt, Greg Kinnear breaking our hearts, Cuba Gooding Jr., a surprising number of familiar faces, a desperate need for a hot Kaiser roll at an unreasonable hour, and somehow the discovery that As Good as It Gets was once released under a title involving cat poop. Then we put the movie through our Stitch Count, where As Good as It Gets earns a surprisingly strong 8 out of 9. So grab something cozy, get in the blanket fort, and join us!

We are in the Blanket Fort with our incredible friend Allaina Humphreys to talk about Project Hail Mary (2026), and it completely wrecked us in the best possible way. We thought we were getting a standard sci-fi survival story about a guy waking up alone in deep space or maybe a football movie. Instead, we got a profoundly beautiful reflection on the messiness of being alive. Science isn't clean counters and perfect equations; it's trial and error, doom piles, and panicked, gritty problem-solving. Allaina opened our eyes to how Ryland Grace's journey so closely mirrors the sudden, unasked-for reality of acquiring a disability. It is about the sheer resilience it takes to figure out who you are when your entire world changes, and finding a way to bloom where you are planted. We shed a lot of tears over a space puppet, but more than that, we found ourselves overwhelmed by the empathy of the unknown. Two beings who share absolutely nothing, not language or atmosphere, not even a face, managing to forge an incredible bond just by choosing to care. It turns out bravery isn't a genetic trait you are simply born with. It is a deliberate choice you make the second you find someone worth being brave for. This episode is raw, it's emotional, and it's entirely about connection. So grab your Nana's Afghan, get comfortable, and let’s talk it out. Fist my bump! If you want to find Allaina Humphreys, you just have to do a google search, she is the only one there. Because she is unique, singular, special in all the best ways possible. And if this conversation stirred something up for you, come find us at cozyquiltcinema.com.

Grab your blanket and get cozy. This week Beth and Michelle are curling up with the ultimate 90s teen rom-com, 10 Things I Hate About You (1999), starring Heath Ledger, Julia Stiles, Larisa Oleynik, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, and Larry Miller. We're breaking down how this loose Taming of the Shrew adaptation still holds up 25+ years later: Kat's cynicism as armor, Bianca's slow climb out of the shallow end, Patrick's mask of "bad boy," and the father just trying (badly) to hold his daughters close. We geek out over the Shakespeare connections (Padua, Verona, Stratford, if you know, you know), talk through the movie's deeper moments. Plus: real house filming locations, a surprising Frankie Valli needle drop, a cameo from Letters to Cleo, and, of course, the Stitch Count gets a 7 of 9.

Beth and Michelle are heading to 1500s Spain and beyond for their first ever animated movie on Cozy Quilt Cinema. This week they're unpacking The Road to El Dorado, the DreamWorks classic starring Kevin Kline and Kenneth Branagh as two con men turned accidental gods. They talk friendship over greed, why this is not really a child friendly kids movie, Elton John's music choices, and the horse that almost didn't survive the trip. Plus a full breakdown of the Stitch Count, sailing into a 6 out of 9. It's colonialism, camaraderie, and cartoon booties all in one silly happy romp through history. Come join the Blanket Fort at cozyquiltcinema.com.

Beth and Michelle revisit My Brilliant Career (1979), Gillian Armstrong’s Australian period drama starring Judy Davis and Sam Neill. Sybylla Melvyn is a headstrong aspiring writer surrounded by people who believe marriage is the only sensible future for a young woman. Then she meets the charming Harry Beecham and discovers that choosing freedom becomes much harder when the life she is refusing includes someone she may genuinely love. This week, we discuss the film’s beautiful, almost painterly landscapes, its deliberately slow pacing, one unexpectedly complete pillow fight, and the maddening chorus of women and men telling Sybylla to accept her proper place. Harry may support her ambitions, but she would still need his permission to pursue them, and Sybylla would rather face loneliness and uncertainty than surrender ownership of her own life. We also pay tribute to Sam Neill by returning to the first leading role that helped introduce his warmth, humor, and unmistakable presence to the world. In the Stitch Count, My Brilliant Career earns 6 out of 9. It easily passes the Castellini portion and avoids a sexualizing camera gaze, while Sybylla ultimately retains her agency and chooses her creative future. Its overwhelmingly white world and lack of meaningful LGBTQ or disability representation hold it back, but its feminist purpose remains remarkably clear: she can love Harry and still choose herself.

This week Beth and Michelle grab their throws for Sunshine Cleaning (2008), the dramedy about two semi-estranged sisters, played by Amy Adams and Emily Blunt, who start a crime scene and biohazard cleanup business in Albuquerque, New Mexico to fix their money troubles. What they end up cleaning up is a lot bigger than blood stains. ***This episode does discuss suicide and death in detail. If that's not where you're at right now, it's okay to sit this one out and come back next week. Beth and Michelle talk about the grief this family never processed after their mother's suicide, why "comedy" might be the wrong label for this one entirely, and the kintsugi of it all, the way some things get repaired without ever being hidden. They dig into Rose and Nora's estranged closeness, why Winston might be the only steady man in the whole movie, and that one detail about shoes being too small that neither of them saw coming. Also featured: Alan Arkin and Steve Zahn, a soapbox moment about growing past the jokes we were raised on, and a Stitch Count of 7 out of 9, one of the higher scores we've handed out.   Grab your Mimi's Sunshine Chanel throw, get in the blanket, and let's talk about it.

This week on Cozy Quilt Cinema, Michelle and Beth discuss John Carney's 2007 indie darling Once, the quiet, music-drenched story of an Irish busker and a Czech girl who fall into something between friendship and love. They talk Glenn Hansard and Markéta Irglová's real-life history, the ick factor versus the movie's actual restraint, busking as eulogy, community in a building with one shared TV, and why a film with barely any plot somehow stays with you for twenty years. Stitch Count score: 3/9. A quick note: Beth is under the weather this Fourth of July weekend, so we pulled a previously unaired episode from the archive for you this week. You may notice some differences in the sound and editing compared to our usual episodes, thanks for your patience and for curling up in the blanket fort with us anyway.

What does it mean to know exactly who you are when the whole world is handing you a beige palette and wondering why you won't use it? This week, Beth and Michelle are joined by award-winning filmmaker and author Polly Schattel, whose new trans-centered novel Crater Girl is out now, to discuss the 1997 French-Belgian film Ma Vie en Rose (My Life in Pink), directed by Alain Berliner. Seven-year-old Ludovic is completely certain she is a girl. Her suburban neighborhood is completely certain she is not. What follows is one of the most quietly devastating portraits of belonging ever put to film — and a movie that was decades ahead of its time in how it treats gender identity, community, and the cost of simply existing as yourself. We talk about what it means to never waver, the mask no one should be forced to wear, the difference between conditional support and real acceptance, and why this 1997 film feels more urgent now than ever. Plus: the Castellini test, the inclusivity index, and the Tremors Index. Grab your coziest quilt and climb into the fort. This one hits different. Learn more about Polly Schattel and her books, including Crater Girl, at pollyschattel.com.

Three queer people and one gloriously unashamed 1994 film. Beth and Michelle bring returning guest Pat Green back to the blanket fort for a Pride Month deep dive into The Adventures of Priscilla Queen of the Desert, the drag road trip that keeps giving the longer you sit with it. We find there are two love stories buried under all those feathers and sequins. Bernadette and Bob, Tick and his family, all bring emotional weight with Adam lip syncing arias atop a moving bus. And a perfect Stitch Count score of 9 out of 9, only the second film in Cozy Quilt Cinema history to hit that mark, right behind Love, Simon. This one is personal. And this one is ours.  You can find Pat Green’s wonderful books Here Go here to get the THRIVE Zine  

We finally watched Love, Simon (2018) and gave it our first-ever perfect score, 9 of 9 on the Stitch Count! This week we're curling up with the story of a kid counting down the days to graduation with one big secret, a string of anonymous emails that turn into something like falling in love, and a Ferris wheel ending that had us both tearing up. We talk about what it means to live in a closet that's also a kind of protection, the jokes that teach you to hide before you even know you're hiding, and what it feels like when the people who love you finally just... see you. It's a sweet movie, maybe even a little too sweet at times, but it earns its feelings honestly. And sometimes that's exactly what we need, a story that doesn't have to hurt to mean something. Grab your blanket and join us for Love, Simon, a perfect 9 of 9 Stitch Count score, and a long talk about the courage it takes to walk forward after coming out.

Some movies entertain you. Some movies find you at exactly the right moment and crack something open. Boy Meets Girl (2014) is both. This week Beth and Michelle curl up with Eric Schaeffer's tender, sex-positive trans romantic comedy set in small-town Kentucky, the story of Ricky Jones, a 21-year-old trans woman with big dreams, a best friend named Robby, and a chance encounter with a Southern debutante that changes everything for all of them. It's imperfect, it's organic, and it was absolutely perfectly timed for one trans woman. We talk trans representation in 2014 versus now, the difference between tolerance and acceptance, why this film doesn't need a villain, and what it means to finally be seen by the people you love most. Wrap yourself up and hit play. Happy Pride!

Pieces of April (2003), written and directed by Peter Hedges on a shoestring budget and two digital camcorders, is a small film that quietly breaks you open and leaves you with the pieces. Katie Holmes plays April, the black sheep, the first pancake, preparing Thanksgiving dinner for an estranged family that has never really seen her, using an oven that doesn't work, in a building full of strangers. Meanwhile her mother Joy, played by Patricia Clarkson, is dying of cancer and riding in a station wagon toward a meal she's not sure she wants, cooked by a daughter she's not sure she knows how to love. This one got personal. We talk about first pancakes and found family, about Bobby and his suit, about a squirrel funeral that was never really about a squirrel, and about what it means to mourn something before it's even gone. Stitch Count: 8 out of 9.

What does it cost to be truly seen by another person and what does the world do when it doesn't know what to do with you? This week, Beth and Michelle climb into the blanket fort with two extraordinary guests to unravel Wes Anderson's Moonrise Kingdom (2012): a story of two lonely twelve-year-olds who decide to stop waiting for the world to make sense and just run toward each other instead. We talk found family and the uniforms we wear to prove we belong, compassionate authority versus institutional indifference, what first love looks like when you've never been shown you're worth staying for, and why the children in this film understand something the adults have spent decades forgetting. It gets emotional. It gets real. It gets a little bit into D&D metaphors and we are not apologizing for that. Joining us today are two people who do the work of being seen and helping others reclaim that, every single day. Pat Green is a columnist, author, documentarian, and freelance photojournalist with over 20 years of storytelling behind him. He's the editor-in-chief of GenX Watch, Executive Director of the Thrive Initiative Trauma-Informed Creative Arts Program, and the author of the Hearts of Glass series, a GenX coming-of-age saga about found family, resilience, and what it means to survive the decade that raised us. Find him at patgreenauthor.com. Allaina Humphreys is a graphic designer, accessibility consultant, and civic leader based in Bolingbrook, Illinois. She's the Chair of Bolingbrook Pride, VP of DEIA for Illinois Now, and one of only 15 people selected nationally for the Emerge America electoral training cohort. She's a disability advocate, a mother of three, and a person whose entire body of work centers the full humanity of every person in the room. Find her @allainahumphreys on Instagram, Facebook, and LinkedIn or, as she'd be the first to tell you, just Google it. She's the only one. THRIVE AND SURVIVE: FIRST AID Sunday, May 31, 2026 | 1:00 PM – 4:30 PM Fountaindale Public Library, Meeting Room A 300 W Briarcliff Rd, Bolingbrook, IL 60440 Pat and Allaina are hosting an afternoon gathering for survivors, artists, writers, and truth-tellers centered on healing, creativity, and connection. The event marks the premiere of the very first issue of the Thrive & Survive Zine: First Aid, a survivor-created zine exploring the stories, art, poetry, and creative tools that help people keep moving forward. The afternoon includes live readings, interactive creative experiences, real conversations about survival, and fundraising for local organizations supporting survivors. All are welcome. For questions: [email protected] Also mentioned in this episode: Michelle spotted a shirt and we are legally obligated to share it: the "I'm White But Not That White" tee from God Ain't Petty

This week we're curling up with a film that, we believe, has been misread by its own trailers for twenty-five years. Bridget Jones's Diary (2001), directed by Sharon Maguire, written by Helen Fielding, Richard Curtis, and Andrew Davies, and starring Renée Zellweger, Colin Firth, and Hugh Grant is not, it turns out, a film about a clumsy woman falling into love. It's a film about a woman falling into herself. We revisit Bridget's diary entries, her Chardonnay budget, and her genuinely iconic fireman's pole moment with fresh eyes and find something we didn't expect: a protagonist who owns her mistakes with more dignity than most films afford their leading men. Along the way, we look at the slow-burn case for Mark Darcy, the sexiest fight scene not involving a hammer, and why "I like you just as you are" hits harder at the end than it would have at the beginning. We also run the film through the Stitch Count (the Castellini test, Gaze and Inclusivity, and the Tremors Gold Standard) and come out the other side with 5 out of 9 stitches holding it all together. Tighter than you'd think, but perhaps looser than it should be. This one's dedicated to one of our listeners, Nicole. Happy birthday! Music by <a href="https://pixabay.com/users/pianocafe_kumi-35185506/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=music&utm_content=370804">pianocafe_Kumi</a> from <a href="https://pixabay.com/music//?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=music&utm_content=370804">Pixabay</a>  

What happens when the woman who's been doing everyone else's job for seven years finally finds herself in her element? Sam Raimi's Send Help (2026) answers that question in the most gloriously unhinged way possible and Beth and Michelle are here for every morally complicated minute of it. Rachel McAdams and Dylan O'Brien survive a plane crash. Only one of them was prepared for it. This is survival horror, workplace comedy, and a master class in knowing things other people don't and Beth and Michelle dig into all of it: the toxic boys' club that built the monster, the moment Linda Little stops apologizing for being the smartest person in the room, and why you'll cheer for choices you absolutely cannot defend. Also: a very theatrical boar, Danny Elfman doing exactly what Danny Elfman does, and the eternal question of whether cooperation is possible when one party keeps being a scorpion about it. The Stitch Count rolls in at 5 out of 9 — better than it sounds, messier than it looks. This episode exists because of a recommendation from our friend DisMoviePod, and we are so glad she sent us here. DisMoviePod runs a podcast dedicated to disability representation in film, with in-depth analysis on Bluesky and Letterboxd, and free monthly screenings you should absolutely be attending. Currently posting from bed and still doing more for film criticism than most.. Reviews: boxd.it/5d4uh Bluesky: bsky.app/profile/dismoviepod.bsky.social  Website: dismoviepod.com Support her work: ko-fi.com/dismoviepod

It's 2001 and Y2K didn't end the world, so Ivan Reitman sent aliens to finish the job. One rapidly evolving cloaca at a time. Beth and Michelle cozy in with Evolution (2001), the Ghostbusters-adjacent sci-fi comedy starring David Duchovny, Orlando Jones, Julianne Moore, and Dan Aykroyd doing the most Dan Aykroyd thing anyone has ever done on screen. They remembered this one being funnier. They were wrong. But Orlando Jones still deserves more work, the CGI creatures are genuinely adorable, and it turns out Head & Shoulders is load-bearing. They run the film through the Stitch Count and the results are about as promising as napalming a nitrogen-based life form. It's not science, it's Skyance.

It’s a rainy weekend so why not curl up on the couch with us and watch Bridesmaids (2011) and you’ll see why this movie has been living rent-free in our hearts for over a decade. Yes, there's a woman shitting in the street in a wedding gown. Yes, someone pukes on the back of someone's head. But here's the thing you won’t get until you are well into it, Bridesmaids is secretly a film about grief, self-worth, and what happens when change shows up before you're ready for it. We dig into Paul Feig's direction, Kristen Wiig and Annie Mumolo's whip-smart screenplay, and why Melissa McCarthy's Megan might be the most emotionally intelligent character in the whole film. We talk about Annie's slow-motion breakdown, Helen's misguided love language (it's money, it's always money), and why a single cupcake says everything you need to know about where Annie is in her life. We also run Bridesmaids through our Stitch Count,  the Castellini Test, our Inclusivity and Gaze lens, and the Tremors Gold Standard, of which this movie earns a 7 out of 9. Which, honestly? We were as surprised as you're going to be. Featuring a very strong Wilson Phillips defense, an extended digression about Brazilian restaurants that we stand behind completely, and at least two deeply personal stories that we probably should have kept to ourselves but didn't. Things might not always go your way, but as the song says, you just have to hold on for one more day.

Beth and Michelle pull a worn, half-forgotten quilt from the top shelf and shake out the dust — because So I Married an Axe Murderer (1993) has been sitting up there for thirty years, and it is absolutely still warm and cozy. Mike Myers plays Charlie Mackenzie, a San Francisco beat poet with a talent for bad poetry, worse timing, and an ironclad gift for self-sabotage. When he falls hard for Harriet the butcher (Nancy Travis), the universe hands him exactly what he's always claimed to want and his brain immediately decides she might be a serial killer. To be fair, she might be. This is a 90s romantic comedy that doesn't get nearly enough credit for how genuinely it understands the way fear and love tangle up into something you can't always tell apart. It's slapstick on the surface and something a lot more honest underneath. Beth and Michelle dig into Mike Myers' dual role, the sharp supporting cast, the original title that should have stuck, and why "commitment phobia" hits differently when it's played for laughs but written from somewhere real. Then they run it through the Stitch Count to see where this cult classic gem holds together and where the seams show. Climb into the blanket fort. This poem sucks. The romance absolutely does not. We talked about Spaceballs: The New One, you can find that teaser here: Spaceballs: The New One

Beth and Michelle turned the air conditioning on for this hellish comedy. Harold Ramis' Bedazzled (2000) is the Y2K fever dream where Brendan Fraser sells his soul seven times over seeming more doomed but likeable with every wish. They dig into Elliot Richards's spectacularly bad attempts to shortcut his way to love, the over-the-top basketball scene that deserves its own micro-trial, and Elizabeth Hurley's Devil, absolutely stealing every scene she's in. Because the real question isn't whether you should make a deal with the Devil, it's whether you read the fine print. Join them as they check the seams and tally the Stitch Count to see if this supernatural bargain actually wears well over time.

Michelle grabbed the blanket and Beth poured a cup of Earl Grey for this one. Four Weddings and a Funeral (1994) is the quintessential British RomCom that managed to make a funeral the most romantic thing in the film.   They wade through the charmingly wet world of Hugh Grant’s Charles and his eccentric band of misfits, from confessions in the rain to the devastating emotional toll of W. H. Auden read aloud at a graveside. As always, Beth and Michelle run it through the Stitch Count, applying the Castellini Test to Carrie’s agency, and asking whether this charming 90s classic stands up to feminist scrutiny or merely flusters with floppy hair and a good suit.    Whether you’re here for the iconic hats, the “is it raining?” memes, or a truly heartfelt discussion of grief, friendship, and how brave it is to say the words, climb into the blanket fort. We saved you a spot and a warm cup of tea.

Get in, loser, we’re going podcasting. This week on Cozy Quilt Cinema, we’re wearing pink and revisiting the 2004 cult classic, Mean Girls. Written by Tina Fey and starring Lindsay Lohan, Rachel McAdams, and Amy Poehler, this film is a mosaic of early 2000s nostalgia and sharp social commentary. We’re pulling the threads of high school hierarchy, from the "Burn Book" drama to the tactical survival of Cady Heron and the reign of Regina George. Is this teen comedy a cult classic in our blanket fort, or is "Fetch" still never going to happen? Join us as we get emotionally invested in the tribalism of the cafeteria, the brilliance of the screenplay, and why we’re still quoting this movie two decades later.

Pack your kitbags, this week on Cozy Quilt Cinema, we’re heading down under to dust off Baz Luhrmann’s 2008 epic, Australia. Starring Nicole Kidman as Lady Sarah Ashley and Hugh Jackman as the rugged "Drover," this film is a cinematic patchwork quilt, stitching together a Western, a wartime drama, and a sweeping romance. It’s an emotional discussion about the logistics of that 1,500-head cattle drive, the dizzying CGI vistas, and the film’s portrayal of the Stolen Generations. Does this three-hour spectacle provide the warmth of a well-loved blanket, or is it a few too many genres stitched together? Join us as we apply our emotional and analytical lens to the history, performances, and maximalist ambition of this Australian odyssey. We talk at length about the Stolen Generations, to learn more please follow the link and thank you, AIATSIS for your work and efforts.  https://aiatsis.gov.au/explore/stolen-generations At the end of the episode, rather than a clip of the movie, we provide the audio archive of then Prime Minister Kevin Rudd delivering the National Apology to Australia’s Indigenous Peoples. In particular, it included an apology to the Stolen Generations. The Apology is now considered a defining moment in Australian history. 

Beth and Michelle talk about being into proximity of and dealing with addiction. Sometimes the coziest stories aren't about perfect lives, easy endings or passionate romances. They are about broken moments and the people who help stitch us back together. There is no easy answer, and no one gets cured, they only learn how stand back up if they fall. This is a film about addiction, accountability, and the fragile beginnings of healing.   Here is the song, Dreaming

Beth and Michelle ride into the Wild Wild West,  a bizarre Western-steampunk mashup starring Will Smith and Kevin Kline that somehow turns buddy-cop charm, Civil War styled gadgetry, and a giant mechanical spider into one of the strangest major box office flops of the late ’90s. For fans of the classic TV show, it was a disappointment. For fans of Men in Black, it lacked the magic of nostalgia. So what could go wrong? This movie had all the ingredients for a wild, fun adventure, but instead it steered that giant spider straight over a cliff. Beth and Michelle dig into the missed potential, the chaotic tone, and the moments that almost made this weird western work. Cozy up with Cozy Quilt Cinema, where Beth and Michelle explore movies through emotion, nostalgia, and the occasional cinematic disaster.

Within Black Lake there lurks a predator, it glides silently through calm, dark water. Beth and Michelle do a flailing back‑roll entry into Lake Placid, which is what they wanted to call it but the name was taken. They dog‑paddle frantically through a creature feature that can’t decide if it’s a horror movie, a romcom, a sitcom or a very specific kink for sarcastic paleontologists. They marvel at Brendan Gleeson’s permanent state of exasperation, Betty White’s feral‑grandma energy, and a crocodile so large it feels like the filmmakers lost a bet with the laws of physics.

In Dark Harbor (1998), Alan Rickman, Polly Walker, and a young Norman Reedus drift through a rain-soaked psychological thriller about a bitter marriage, an isolated island, and a stranger who may be far more dangerous than he appears. Beth and Michelle unpack the film’s slow-building tension, intimate power games, emotional cruelty, and deliberately murky motives. The movie saves its biggest reveal for a queer relationship treated as a final-act gotcha, even though the real horror is manipulation, control, and murder. Alexis is mocked, ignored, and ultimately used as the device that frees the men around her, leaving the film’s poetic reflections on love sitting beside some deeply regressive choices. In the Stitch Count, Dark Harbor earns 2 out of 9. It offers atmosphere, strong performances, and a few beautifully written moments, but its thin characterization, entirely white cast, sexualized gaze, and disposal of its central woman leave Beth and Michelle asking whether this slow burn has anything new beneath all that very familiar smoke. I found a better copy to view - Dark Harbor 1998

Beth and Michelle reunite with A Mighty Wind, Christopher Guest’s affectionate 2003 mockumentary about three nearly famous folk groups gathering for one memorial concert and dedicate the episode to the incomparable Catherine O’Hara. O’Hara’s death left Beth and Michelle grieving an actress who had quietly accompanied them through much of their lives. From Beetlejuice and Home Alone to Christopher Guest’s ensemble comedies and the indomitable Moira Rose, O’Hara created characters who could be absurd, wounded, commanding, and deeply human, sometimes all within the same breath. Her work remains, but the knowledge that there will be no new performance carries a particular kind of sadness. As Mickey Crabbe, O’Hara gives one of her gentlest performances. Mickey and Mitch were once a celebrated musical and romantic partnership before heartbreak destroyed both. Their reunion is not about restoring the past or beginning their relationship again. It gives them the opportunity to confront what their music preserved, complete the emotional conversation they abandoned years earlier, and share one final kiss at the end of the rainbow. The film’s other musicians face their own relationships with nostalgia. The Folksmen discover that friendship can survive distance and obscurity. The New Main Street Singers perform beneath the weight of a legacy belonging mostly to other people. Across the ensemble, fading fame is treated not as failure but as another stage of life - one where the music can still matter even after the audience has moved on. Beth and Michelle celebrate the film’s extraordinary improvisational cast, its lovingly specific folk satire, the partnerships that remain fragile after decades, and the trans reveal of Mark Shubb. Her identity is never treated as something monstrous or shameful; the humor remains rooted in the group’s personalities and musical arrangement rather than in the mere fact that she transitioned. In the newly consolidated Stitch Count, A Mighty Wind earns 7 out of 9. It passes the Castellini portion through independent, consequential women including Mickey, Laurie, Sissy, and Amber. It distributes competence and agency without insisting that its women apologize for themselves, and it includes a surprisingly affirming transgender character. Its score is held back by an overwhelmingly white cast, limited racial representation, and little meaningful disability inclusion. A Mighty Wind understands that nostalgia can be funny, comforting, and painful at the same time. The people change. Partnerships fracture. Fame fades. Eventually, the performers themselves leave us. But the song still lingers.

Beth and Michelle go downtown, where the guys are drips, the rent is overdue, and nearly everyone dreams of escaping Skid Row. This week, they revisit Little Shop of Horrors, the 1986 musical comedy where a strange new plant offers Seymour Krelborn everything he has ever wanted, recognition, financial security, and perhaps even a future with Audrey - provided he keeps feeding it. Beneath the puppetry, doo-wop harmonies, and gloriously theatrical performances is a story about longing. Seymour wants love and stability after a childhood spent as an orphan and an adulthood spent living in the basement of his employer’s flower shop. Audrey dreams of a quiet suburban home somewhere green, but does not believe she deserves safety or tenderness. Both accept mistreatment as a substitute for love because it is the only emotional economy they have ever known. Audrey II promises them a way out, but the opportunity is toxic from the beginning. Seymour’s success depends on blood, secrecy, and increasingly serious moral compromises. The plant becomes the hungriest possible version of the American dream: it offers wealth and freedom while quietly removing every meaningful choice. Even the idyllic ending suggests that Seymour and Audrey may have escaped Skid Row only to enter a cleaner, prettier cage. Beth and Michelle also discuss Audrey’s abuse by Orin, Seymour’s exploitation by Mr. Mushnik, the film’s casual racism, the way its Black Greek chorus carries the narrative without being fully permitted inside it, and the extraordinary practical effects that make Audrey II feel less like a puppet than a dangerously charismatic performer. In the episode’s proto–Stitch Count, Little Shop of Horrors narrowly passes the Castellini Test through Audrey and the Greek chorus of Crystal, Ronette, and Chiffon, with Audrey essential to Seymour’s choices and the entire story. The film features a visibly diverse supporting cast, but its principal characters remain overwhelmingly white, and its racial representation is complicated by stereotyping and by characters of color carrying much of the film’s emotional and musical labor. LGBTQ and disability representation are minimal. The Tremors Index produces a rare split decision: Michelle gives the movie 9 Audrey II pods out of 10, carried by her love of its songs, performances, and memories, while Beth lands closer to 6 out of 10, unable to overlook the accumulated injustices beneath the fun. It is funny, sinister, romantic, abusive, catchy, and coated in the soot of Skid Row. The music may invite you to sing along, but the plant is always waiting for supper.

Beth and Michelle revisit Death Becomes Her, the 1992 dark comedy where two lifelong rivals drink a potion promising eternal youth, only to discover that immortality is considerably less glamorous when your neck is broken, your stomach has a shotgun-sized hole in it, and your continued existence depends on industrial quantities of paint and putty. What once seemed like a deliciously camp battle between Meryl Streep and Goldie Hawn now lands very differently. Beneath the extraordinary visual effects, Isabella Rossellini’s impossible glamour, and the endlessly quotable cruelty is a story filled with ageism, fat-shaming, ableism, and a rigid belief that women lose their value when they stop being young, desirable, and useful to men. Madeline and Helen spend decades defining themselves through rivalry. Rather than being permitted careers, growth, friendship, or genuine reinvention, they are pushed into treating one another as the enemy. Ernest, meanwhile, profits from women’s insecurity as a plastic surgeon, descends into alcoholism, participates in Madeline’s death, and still receives the film’s redemptive ending. He is allowed to refuse immortality, build a meaningful life, and be remembered as a complete human being. The women remain the cautionary joke. In the episode’s proto–Stitch Count, Death Becomes Her passes the Castellini Test through Madeline, Helen, and Lisle, all of whom are essential to the plot. Its broader representation is extremely limited, however. People of color are almost entirely absent from speaking roles, mental illness and physical disability are used as comic devices, and the film offers little meaningful LGBTQ inclusion despite becoming a queer cult favorite. Beth and Michelle give it 3.5 out of 10 on the Tremors Index. The performances remain excellent and the effects still impress, but the movie’s beautiful surface cannot conceal how little space it gives its women to become anything other than rivals. The potion promises freedom from aging. What it actually offers is an eternity trapped inside the same expectations.

Beth and Michelle return to Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga, the 2020 musical comedy where two lifelong performers from a small Icelandic town stumble into Europe’s largest song competition through talent, persistence, technical catastrophe, and an intervention from the elves that may have gone considerably too far. Released during the isolation of the early pandemic, the film arrived like a loose piece of disco ball reflecting light into a dark room. Beneath Will Ferrell’s costumes, giant hamster wheels, exploding boats, and relentlessly requested performances of “Jaja Ding Dong,” Beth and Michelle find a surprisingly tender story about music, identity, family, and the dreams we carry from childhood. Lars has spent his life believing that winning Eurovision will earn his father’s respect and prove that his ambitions were never ridiculous. In pursuing that validation, however, he repeatedly overlooks Sigrid, the person whose love, voice, and quiet belief have supported his dream from the beginning. Their story finds its emotional resolution when Lars abandons spectacle, sits beside her at the piano, and finally makes room for her to sing from the heart. The conversation also explores masculine shame, fathers who cannot express love, Icelandic folklore, national pride without nationalism, and Alexander Lemtov’s painful insistence that there are no gay people in Russia. His flamboyant confidence conceals the reality that wealth and international fame still cannot make him safe enough to live openly at home. In the episode’s proto–Stitch Count, the film passes the Castellini Test through Sigrid, Mita, Nina, and the other women surrounding the competition, with Sigrid essential to both Fire Saga and the story itself. Its international cast provides substantial racial and LGBTQ representation, including actual Eurovision performers and drag artist Conchita Wurst, although disability representation is limited. Beth and Michelle give it 9 out of 10 on the Tremors Index. Fire Saga does not win Eurovision and the movie is better for it. Success may bring applause, but music is not always about winning. Sometimes it is about being heard, honoring where you came from, and finding the person beside whom you can finally become yourself. Music from #Uppbeat (free for Creators!): https://uppbeat.io/t/julien-schwarz/my-chapters License code: MNQCVJ4WDX2TILQC Links for the community concerning the ICE terrorist attacks in Minnesota: Rapid Response & ICE Activity Hotlines MN NOICE – Immigrant Support Hub   Directory + rapid response numbers (including Monarca Rapid Response Line and COPAL Navigators Line) https://www.mnnoice.org COPAL MN – Community Organizing & People’s Action   (Hosts the statewide immigrant support helpline used by IDN and MN NOICE) https://www.copalmn.org     Immigrant Rights & Anti‑Deportation Organizing   MIRAC – Minnesota Immigrant Rights Action Committee   Grassroots, abolitionist immigrant‑rights organization fighting raids, deportations, and anti‑immigrant laws https://miracmn.org Immigrant Defense Network (IDN)   Statewide coalition of 90+ nonprofits coordinating legal defense, rapid response, and community protection https://immigrantdefense.org Legal Aid & Direct Services Arrive Ministries (Legal Services Directory Listing)   Provides immigration legal assistance including naturalization, family petitions, TPS, and more https://www.arriveministries.org National Immigration Legal Services Directory – Minnesota Listings   Comprehensive list of Minnesota orgs offering immigration legal support https://www.immigrationadvocates.org/nonprofit/legaldirectory/    Community Support & Mutual Aid Saint Paul & Minnesota Foundation – Immigrant & Refugee Support Organizations   Curated list of trusted Minnesota groups supporting immigrant and refugee communities https://www.spmcf.org  

Beth and Michelle enter the Thrombey mansion for their first viewing of Knives Out, the 2019 mystery where an enormously wealthy crime novelist dies after his birthday party and every member of his seemingly close-knit family has a motive, a grievance, and a carefully edited version of the truth. What begins as a classic country-house whodunit becomes a sharp satire of inherited wealth, entitlement, immigration, and the stories privileged people tell about themselves. The Thrombeys insist they are self-made, welcoming, and united, while living on Harlan’s money, casually misidentifying Marta’s country of origin, handing her empty plates, and threatening her undocumented mother the moment Marta possesses something they believe should belong to them. At the emotional center is Marta, whose compassion and inability to lie without vomiting make her appear vulnerable. Instead, her kindness, intelligence, and professional competence become the source of her strength. Benoit Blanc may direct the investigation with doughnut metaphors, piano notes, and a magnificent Southern accent, but it is Marta whose anxiety, guilt, tenderness, and growing empowerment carry the audience through the mystery. In the episode’s proto–Stitch Count, Knives Out easily passes the Castellini Test through Marta, Linda, Joni, Meg, and Fran, with Marta indispensable to every part of the story. Its cast includes meaningful racial representation through Marta’s family and Lieutenant Elliott, although most characters of color remain positioned outside the wealthy white family at its center. LGBTQ and disability representation are minimal. Beth and Michelle give it 9 out of 10 on the Tremors Index—or nine knives out. Cozy, energetic, funny, and meticulously layered, Knives Out earns an immediate place in the regular rotation. It is less like a conventional thriller than a particularly satisfying trifle: mystery, social commentary, tenderness, tension, and just enough absurdity stacked into one deliciously elaborate dessert. My house. My rules. My coffee.   Music by Melody Ayres-Griffiths from Pixabay   On a serious Note: To demand answers and accountability for the recent death at the Robert A. Deyton facility in Lovejoy, GA, you can point listeners to Georgia Detention Watch (GDW) and their partners at El Refugio. Website: gadetentionwatch.org Action: Follow their Instagram or Twitter/X for the specific "Call to Action" scripts regarding the mid-January death. Direct Advocacy: Listeners can also contact the ICE Atlanta Field Office at (404) 893-1210 to demand a transparent investigation. These cards are designed to be shown through a window or slid under a door so residents do not have to open the door to agents. NILC Printable Cards (PDF): nilc.org/know-your-rights-card Informed Immigrant "Red Cards": These include the specific legal language to invoke the 4th and 5th Amendments. Link: informedimmigrant.com/red-cards In the Twin Cities, the primary line to report "Operation Metro Surge" activity, masked agents, or raids is the Monarca Rapid Response Line. Hotline Number: 612-441-2881 MIRAC (Minnesota Immigrant Rights Action Committee): They also coordinate responses. Their resource page can be found at miracmn.com/resources.

Beth and Michelle return to 1920s Egypt for The Mummy, the 1999 adventure where a brilliant librarian, a world-weary gunslinger, one extremely lucky brother, and several deeply unqualified treasure hunters accidentally awaken an ancient priest determined to resurrect the woman he loves. What initially looked like another attempt to imitate Indiana Jones became something far warmer, funnier, and more romantic. Brendan Fraser and Rachel Weisz bring effortless chemistry to Rick and Evelyn, whose attraction grows through mutual respect rather than instant declarations. He notices her intelligence and replaces the archaeological tools she lost; she discovers the humanity beneath his swagger. Meanwhile, Imhotep and Anck-su-namun provide the story’s darker romantic mirror, a love powerful enough to survive death, but destructive enough to consume everyone standing in its way. Beth and Michelle celebrate the movie’s swashbuckling energy, cozy sense of adventure, perfectly blended comedy, impressive effects, and pansexual dream of a cast. They also examine its fictionalized Egyptian history, colonial archaeology, cultural appropriation, exploited labor, and the uncomfortable habit of Western adventurers treating another civilization’s dead as treasure waiting to be claimed. In the episode’s proto–Stitch Count, The Mummy passes the Castellini Test through Evelyn and Anck-su-namun, both of whom are essential to the story’s existence and resolution. Its cast offers meaningful racial diversity, but that representation is complicated by colonialism, cultural substitution, and the absence of LGBTQ inclusion. Even with those problems, Beth and Michelle award it a formidable 9 out of 10 on the Tremors Index. It has romance without becoming syrupy, horror without excessive gore, history without much historical accuracy, and enough Brendan Fraser and Rachel Weisz to leave nearly everyone questioning something about themselves. Background Music by Ruud from Pixabay Support for the Good Family GoFundMe: Support for the Family of Renee Good Launched by family friend Mattie Weiss, this fundraiser directly supports Renee’s wife, Rebecca, and her three children (ages 15, 12, and 6) with immediate needs and long-term stability. The GoFundMe was removed per the family as it more than attained it's goal.  Take Action & Demand Prosecution Resistbot: Demand Justice for Renee Good This tool allows listeners to quickly send a pre-written letter to their specific elected officials (Congress and the Department of Homeland Security) demanding a full investigation and prosecution. Text SIGN PENBUH to 50409 or visit resist.bot/letters/206e2562-dab4-4c47-b6eb-db4142acf0b9. ACLU of Minnesota: Tincher v. Noem The ACLU has filed a lawsuit challenging federal law enforcement violence and misconduct in Minnesota. You can follow the case and support their legal fund. Link: aclu-mn.org Organizations Leading the Fight Freedom for Immigrants They monitor all deaths in ICE custody and provide a "National Detention Map" that tracks abuse and neglect across the country. Link: freedomforimmigrants.org National Immigration Law Center (NILC) A primary legal group fighting the "Operation Metro Surge" and "Operation Midway Blitz" policies that led to the recent escalations. Link: nilc.org The Legal Defense Fund (LDF) The LDF has officially condemned the killing and is active in civil rights litigation regarding federal overreach in Minneapolis. Link: naacpldf.org

Beth and Michelle talk about Ghostbusters II, the strange, slimy, emotionally contagious 1989 sequel where New York has forgotten its former heroes, the team has fractured into separate lives, and five years of resentment are accumulating beneath the city as a river of psycho-reactive pink goo. Recorded at the end of 2025 and marking the podcast’s sixty-first episode, the conversation becomes partly a reflection on the film and partly a celebration of the community Beth and Michelle have built together. Friendships do not survive through nostalgia alone. Community is never automatic, it has to be chosen, nurtured, protected, and sometimes rebuilt after it has fallen apart. They explore the Ghostbusters’ search for redemption after being dismissed rather than defeated, New York’s apathy as an active force, Winston’s continuing lack of screen time, Dana’s limited agency, Peter’s questionable romantic persistence, Egon’s quiet leadership, and the gloriously excessive soundtrack Michelle still knows by heart. There is also mood slime, a historically real pneumatic transit system, a surprisingly complicated Statue of Liberty rescue, and several plot holes large enough for a Mack truck. In the episode’s proto–Stitch Count, Ghostbusters II passes the Castellini Test through Dana and Janine, with Dana essential to the plot. Its broader inclusion remains weak, however: Winston is the only principal character of color, and there is no meaningful LGBTQ or disability representation. Beth and Michelle give it a 4 out of 10 on the Tremors Index. Manic, nostalgic fun with an affecting message about community, but nowhere near the pinnacle of inclusive, tightly constructed monster cinema. It is silly, inconsistent, and occasionally inexplicable. It makes Beth and Michelle feel good, then bad for feeling good and somehow that remains part of its charm.

Beth and Michelle revisit Trading Places, the 1983 comedy where two wealthy brothers wager one dollar that privilege and deprivation can be exchanged as easily as office keys, tailored suits, and a Philadelphia townhouse. Louis Winthorpe loses everything overnight, while Billy Ray Valentine is lifted from the street and placed inside a world that suddenly treats him as intelligent, respectable, and worthy of attention. The experiment exposes how arbitrary wealth and status really are but the movie’s satire comes with some enormous potholes. Beth and Michelle confront its racism, homophobia, ableism, casual misogyny, blackface, and stereotypes that land far differently now than they did during childhood viewings. What once felt like uncomplicated justice is now more like driving a luxury car down a badly broken road: the destination remains satisfying, but the impacts are impossible to ignore. At the heart of the film are Ophelia and Coleman. Ophelia’s warmth, intelligence, confidence, and refusal to apologize for sex work give Louis the compassion and shelter his privileged world never taught him to offer others. Coleman’s loyalty is not blind; when the Dukes reveal that everyone beneath them is disposable, he joins Billy Ray, Louis, and Ophelia in creating a genuine found family, and in delivering some richly deserved financial comeuppance. In the episode’s proto–Stitch Count, Trading Places passes the Castellini Test through Ophelia and Penelope, with Ophelia essential to reaching the film’s ending. The cast offers considerably more racial diversity than many movies of its era, but that inclusion is undermined by its treatment of disability and LGBTQ people. Beth and Michelle give it a 5 out of 10 on the Tremors Index: halfway to the pinnacle, with meaningful representation sharing space with some painfully dated choices.

In this impromptu and deeply personal episode, Beth and Michelle discuss The Princess Bride in memory of Rob and Michele Reiner. Their deaths have left an enormous absence, not only for those who knew and loved them, but for generations shaped by their storytelling, advocacy, humanity, and belief that the world could become kinder and more equitable. Rather than dwell solely in tragedy, Beth and Michelle celebrate what remains. The Princess Bride is a film overflowing with different forms of love: Westley and Buttercup’s enduring devotion, Inigo’s love for his father, Fezzik’s discovery of friendship and found family, and the quiet bond formed as a grandfather reads to his grandson. Its joy is inseparable from sadness, just as remembrance can contain laughter, gratitude, anger, and grief all at once. The conversation explores the unusually warm production, the affection shared among its cast, Andre the Giant’s gratitude for being treated as an equal, Mandy Patinkin’s deeply personal performance, and the friendships that continued long after filming ended. The film passes the Castellini Test through Buttercup and Valerie. Its racial representation remains extremely limited, however, together with the Tremors Index and Beth and Michelle give it an 8 out of 10 In a proto–Stitch Count score. An enduring classic with abundant warmth and humanity, but not the breadth of inclusion needed to reach the pinnacle. This is a tribute to two people whose partnership joined creativity with civic purpose and to a story that continues connecting families, friends, romantics, adventurers, and anyone who still believes that love can survive distance, loss, and time. As you wish, Rob and Michele.   *Stand By Me By dccharles is licensed under a Creative Commons License

Beth and Michelle watch Scrooged, the 1988 Christmas satire where Bill Murray’s ruthless television executive discovers that capitalism, cruelty, and an aggressively marketed live broadcast of A Christmas Carol have left him profoundly alone. Fortunately, three ghosts are prepared to intervene, with nostalgia, existential terror, and a considerable amount of physical violence. Frank Cross has spent years narrowing his world to ambition and control, abandoning Claire, neglecting his brother, exploiting Grace, and firing Elliot Loudermilk on Christmas Eve. His supernatural journey does not magically erase those choices. It changes his perspective, forcing him to see the people whose needs, grief, and humanity he has trained himself to overlook. Redemption begins when he stops treating everyone else as supporting players in his own production. The film narrowly passes the Castellini Test through Grace, Claire, and Wendy, with Grace especially essential to Frank’s emotional awakening. Its supporting cast provides more racial diversity than many holiday movies of its era, although the story remains firmly centered on Frank’s transformation. Dated references, practical effects, Bobcat Goldthwait with a shotgun, Karen Allen’s radiant warmth, and Carol Kane beating the Christmas spirit into Bill Murray make Scrooged a chaotic but enduring reminder that becoming better is not a single miraculous moment. It is a habit and every one of us remains a work in progress. Song: Santa's Tricks Composer: Myuu Website: https://youtube.com/myuuji License: Free To Use YouTube license youtube-free Music powered by BreakingCopyright: https://breakingcopyright.com

Beth and Michelle revisit Happiest Season, the queer holiday rom-com where a Christmas visit becomes an exhausting journey back into the closet. Abby arrives expecting to meet her girlfriend’s accepting family, and possibly propose. Only to learn that Harper has lied about coming out and now expects her to pose as a straight roommate while navigating family competition, old flames, stolen necklaces, and an alarming shortage of personal boundaries. Between frustrated sighs and cries of “just kiss Aubrey Plaza already,” Beth and Michelle examine why Abby and Riley’s easy connection feels so compelling, how Harper repeatedly leaves Abby powerless and isolated, and why being forced out is still a violation, even when Harper’s choices deeply hurt the person she loves. The conversation becomes personal as they reflect on hiding, protecting a partner, fearing rejection, and recognizing the moments when each of us has been either Harper or Abby. The film offers meaningful queer representation, delightful appearances from Jinkx Monsoon and BenDeLaCreme, and a family capable of change. But its tidy romantic resolution remains complicated. Grab some hot chocolate with far too many marshmallows and join the blanket fort for festive red flags, messy forgiveness, and one holiday relationship that needs considerably more than Christmas magic.

Beth and Michelle revisit Clue, the 1985 murder mystery where six suspicious guests, one frantic butler, several conveniently placed weapons, and three contradictory endings transform political corruption into breathless farce. The plot may contain enough holes to resemble Swiss cheese, but Tim Curry’s manic energy and an extraordinary ensemble make the cheese far more important. They explore the secrets beneath each character’s carefully constructed identity: Miss Scarlet’s unapologetic sexuality, Mrs. White’s weaponized bitterness, Colonel Mustard’s bluster, Professor Plum’s abuse of power, Mrs. Peacock’s political privilege, and Mr. Green’s fear of being exposed for who he is rather than something he has done. The film’s 1954 setting brings McCarthyism, ideological paranoia, and compulsory conformity into every deception. Clue passes the Castellini Test, with its women essential to every possible resolution and speaking about far more than romance. Its racial diversity remains limited to minor roles, however, and its treatment of queerness carries the weight of its era. Even so, the pacing, performances, quotable dialogue, and gleeful absurdity keep it firmly within the comfort-movie rotation.

Beth and Michelle return to snowy Minnesota for Grumpy Old Men, the 1993 comedy in which Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau turn insults, pranks, ice fishing, and decades of resentment into a strangely tender form of companionship. Beneath the curmudgeonly jokes is a story about loneliness, grief, financial fear, mortality, and the lives people believe they are too old to begin again. John and Max have spent years being together alone, watching one another through neighboring windows while refusing to acknowledge how deeply connected they remain. Ariel’s arrival disrupts that familiar misery, bringing movement and possibility back into their lives. Yet the men repeatedly treat her affection as something they can win, surrender, or trade without involving her in the decision. The film technically passes the Castellini Test through Ariel and Melanie, but Beth and Michelle find little broader equity in a story centered almost entirely on older white men. Ariel drives the plot yet frequently loses her agency inside their rivalry. Even so, the movie’s deeper message endures: grief may alter a life without ending it, friendship can hide beneath decades of hostility, and nobody is too old to change direction or finally admit that the person next door matters. Don't forget our friend of the show and guest, Pat Green is hosting the launch of his new Hearts of Glass novel (Hearts of Glass Fade Away and Radiate), along with Alexandra Charecky and her book is called Buford's Purposeful day. It will also be a trauma-informed conversation on surviving SA/DV, creative healing through art and writing, and opportunities for survivors to share and publish their stories. Thrive Survivor Initiative Book Launch Dec 13, 11:00 a.m.–1:30 p.m. Fountaindale Public Library, Bolingbrook, IL – Room C (2nd floor) Radiant-And-Thrive    

Beth and Michelle settle beneath the quilt with Ever After, the warm and fiercely feminist Cinderella retelling where Leonardo da Vinci fills in for the fairy godmother and Drew Barrymore’s Danielle refuses to wait helplessly for a prince. Beneath its romance, breathtaking locations, jeweled slippers, and Angelica Huston’s magnificent cruelty is a story about autonomy, class, education, and the families people choose. Danielle’s strength is not simply that she talks back or carries Henry away from danger. She refuses to let abuse alter how she treats others. The servants remain her family, Maurice’s freedom matters more than her comfort, and poverty never makes a person less deserving of dignity. Her intelligence challenges Henry’s privilege and inspires him to imagine education and opportunity beyond the aristocracy. The film easily passes the Castellini Test, with Danielle, Rodmilla, Marguerite, Jacqueline, and others driving conversations and events beyond romance. It also embraces feminism as equity rather than female superiority. Cozy enough to fall asleep against someone’s shoulder yet substantial enough to provoke conversations about class and generational harm, Ever After remains a Cinderella story where kindness is strength, love encourages growth, and the heroine rescues herself before the prince arrives.

Beth and Michelle discuss Where the Heart Is, the 2000 drama about a pregnant seventeen-year-old abandoned at an Oklahoma Walmart and the community that slowly helps her build a life. What once felt primarily like a romantic story now reveals something richer: a journey from dependence and fear of abandonment toward agency, creative purpose, friendship, and found family. Novalee receives extraordinary kindness, but she is not simply rescued by generous strangers. Sister Husband gives her a home and teaches her independence. Moses encourages her photography. Lexie becomes the sister who needs Novalee’s support as much as Novalee needs hers. Their relationship carries the film through motherhood, abuse, loss, rebuilding, and the understanding that accepting help does not make someone a burden. The movie passes the Castellini Test, with Novalee, Lexie, Sister Husband, Ruth Meyers, and other women driving the story through relationships far beyond romance. Forney’s patient love matters because he never demands that Novalee choose him before she is ready. When she finally returns, she is no longer a frightened girl waiting for someone else to determine her future. She has created a home, a career, and a community, and can finally choose love without surrendering herself.

Supertobertacular reaches its unholy conclusion with a live Halloween watch-along of The Exorcist. Start the 1973 horror classic with Beth and Michelle’s countdown, then join them as they paint layered wooden Halloween crafts, negotiate drying times and missing brushes, react to Regan’s possession, and wander wherever the movie, or their increasingly chaotic conversation, takes them. For Michelle, this is a first complete viewing of a film she has long avoided. What once sent audiences fainting from theaters now feels less traditionally frightening than profoundly sad, particularly in the physical and medical trauma inflicted on a twelve-year-old girl. Between demonic manifestations, invasive procedures, struggling priests, questionable parenting suggestions, and a director who placed his actors in genuine danger, Beth and Michelle consider faith beyond religion, the ethics of filmmaking, and whether every possessed child should simply be repossessed. This is not a traditional review or a carefully edited discussion. It is a real-time craft-along filled with tapping brushes, wandering cats, Appalachian background noise, coughing, cursing, unexpected musical detours, and one extremely committed spicy demon. Queue up the movie, gather something creative to work on, and celebrate Halloween inside the warm, strange chaos of the blanket fort. Apologies to the sound quality, as we are remodeling a 1950’s den to studio standards and had a lot of reflective surfaces. Things are changing here at the PeaPod and hopefully going forward we will be changing for the better. Stick with us as we grow and evolve!

Supertobertacular continues as Beth and Michelle welcome Pat Green back to confront the suburban nightmare of Poltergeist. What begins with television static, mischievous spirits, and a dead canary grows into a story about parenthood, corporate greed, medical neglect, domestic violence, childhood terror, and the terrible consequences of building an idyllic community over deliberately buried truths. Steve and Diane Freeling feel unusually real because their marriage rests on friendship as much as romance. They tease each other, get high together, remember their shared history, and remain a team when their daughter disappears into another realm. Diane becomes the film’s emotional and physical force, repeatedly throwing herself into danger for her children, while Steve listens, adapts, and refuses the era’s expected role of domineering male hero. Poltergeist passes the Castellini Test through Diane, Dr. Lesh, Tangina, and Dana, with multiple women essential to rescuing Carol Anne. The episode also considers the production’s use of real skeletons and the tragic lives later folded into the supposed “Poltergeist curse.” Beneath the clowns, trees, static, and spectacular effects, the film’s real monster is greed: the developer moved the headstones, left the bodies, and expected the families living above them to pay the price. Don’t forget that we will be doing a Podbean Live Rewatch of The Exorcist (1973) on Oct 31 at 8pm est. Please check out the Indiegogo for Pat Green’s Hearts of Glass: Fade Away and Radiate  

Supertobertacular continues with Stir of Echoes, a supernatural mystery in which one reckless act of hypnosis opens Tom Witzke to a world he was never prepared to see. Beth and Michelle carry on despite an unfortunate recording mishap and explore a film filled with obsession, claustrophobic anxiety, domestic tension, and the terrifying consequences of telling the universe to make someone more open. Tom’s visions gradually reveal the assault and murder of Samantha, a missing girl whose neighbors casually dismissed her as a runaway. As he relives pieces of her final moments, curiosity becomes empathy and empathy becomes compulsion. The ghost does not want to destroy his family; she wants the truth uncovered. The real danger comes from the living people who harmed her, concealed her body, and protected their sons at the expense of her family’s peace. Stir of Echoes passes the Castellini Test through Maggie, Lisa, Debbie, and Samantha, with several women essential to the story’s resolution. Its cast lacks meaningful racial diversity, but the film remains an effective, oddly cozy ghost story, one where the supernatural is frightening, yet human cruelty, willful ignorance, and the instinct to protect powerful men are far worse.

Supertobertacular continues as Beth and Michelle enter the beautifully constructed cardboard labyrinth of Dave Made a Maze. What begins as another unfinished project occupying an apartment living room expands into an impossible world of origami creatures, changing rules, deadly traps, documentary exploitation, a Minotaur, and one dangerously hypnotic paper vagina. Beneath its handmade spectacle is a painfully relatable story about creative paralysis. Dave can begin anything but struggles to finish, leaving his girlfriend Annie exhausted by his lack of communication and direction. Inside the maze, she finally sees the fear, shame, and desperate need to create that he has been unable to explain. Escaping requires more than defeating a monster: Dave must accept help, communicate honestly, and complete something alongside the people who care about him. The film narrowly passes the Castellini Test, with Annie, Jane, and Brynn meeting its requirements, though its broader representation remains limited. Inventive, funny, unexpectedly gory, and emotionally sincere, Dave Made a Maze turns cardboard into a metaphor for the elaborate prisons people construct when they feel lost and the empathy required to find a way out.

Beth and Michelle launch their first annual Supertobertacular, an October progression of increasingly (but not excessively) scary movies, with the 2014 horror comedy Cooties. A contaminated chicken nugget transforms the students of Fort Chicken Elementary into feral zombies, leaving a dysfunctional collection of teachers trapped inside the school and repeatedly outsmarted by children whose brains are literally decomposing. Clint arrives as a failed novelist pretending he is not really a teacher, only to become caught between his former crush Lucy and her aggressively confident boyfriend, Wade. Their rivalry gradually gives way to honesty as Wade admits his jealousy, Clint confesses his failures, and Lucy refuses to let either man decide what she wants. Meanwhile, the socially unusual but highly intelligent Doug becomes the group’s unlikely scientific authority. Cooties passes the Castellini Test, with Lucy and Rebecca participating in conversations and decisions beyond romance. It also offers a more diverse cast than many larger horror films without turning representation into the joke. Bloody, ridiculous, and surprisingly well constructed, it is an ideal opening to Supertobertacular: scary enough for October, funny enough for nervous viewers, and considerably less nauseating once the maggot-filled nuggets are behind you. Please check out our friend, Pat Greens new book, mentioned in the episode, Hearts of Glass: Living in the Real World. You can find all of his links here