Today’s music video of the day comes to us from The Hooters, a Philadelphia-based band whose sound will always be identified with the mid-80s. And We Danced is their biggest hit to date. It’s certainly the one that most people think of if they think about The Hooters.
This music video, which was hugely popular back when MTV played music videos, was shot at a drive-in theater in Exton, Pennsylvania in the summer of 1985. Unfortunately, the theater has since been torn down but, in a sense, it will exist forever because of this music video. The video itself was nominated for a Best New Artist award at the MTV Music Video awards but it lost to Take Me On by a-ha.
“Don’t forget. Believe in yourself. Not in the you who believes in me. Not the me who believes in you. Believe in the you who believes in yourself.” — Kamina
Gurren Lagann is one of those anime that seems to announce itself at maximum volume before the opening theme has even finished. It is loud, ridiculous, earnest, aggressively stylish, and so emotionally committed to its own escalation that it somehow transforms drills, sunglasses, tiny robots, and increasingly impossible acts of defiance into a genuinely moving epic. Produced by Gainax and originally broadcast in 2007, Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann begins underground with a timid boy named Simon and ends in a place so cosmically huge that describing it risks making the show sound like parody. But that journey—from cramped tunnels beneath the earth to a battle for humanity’s future among the stars—is exactly why it still lands so hard.
The premise starts simply. Simon lives in an underground village where people have been conditioned to accept a small, confined existence beneath a hostile surface world. He spends his days digging tunnels, largely ignored by the others around him, until his life is upended by Kamina, a reckless older boy who insists that the surface exists and that humans belong there. Kamina’s conviction is less a coherent philosophy than a full-force personality trait: he believes in breaking through walls because walls are there to be broken. When Simon discovers a small drill-shaped device and a miniature mecha called Lagann, the pair’s ambitions become suddenly possible. Their escape to the surface introduces Yoko, the series’ sharp-shooting, level-headed third lead, and kicks off a war against the Beastmen and their towering Gunmen.
On paper, that sounds like a standard mecha adventure. In practice, Gurren Lagann uses that foundation as a launchpad for a story about grief, courage, self-definition, and the strange process of becoming the person you need to be after the person you depended on is gone. Its early episodes are especially effective because Simon is not immediately framed as a hidden hero. He is anxious, withdrawn, and clearly accustomed to having Kamina speak for him. Kamina may be the show’s loudest presence, but Simon is its emotional center. The series understands that confidence is not just something a character “gets” after a training montage. It has to be built through failure, fear, loss, responsibility, and the gradual realization that admiration is not the same thing as identity.
Kamina is still the character most people remember first, and it is easy to see why. His dialogue is endlessly quotable, his poses are absurdly theatrical, and his belief in Simon is powerful precisely because it is so unconditional. Kamina does not believe Simon is capable because Simon has proven himself; he believes Simon will prove himself because he already sees something in him. That relationship gives the early part of Gurren Lagann its heart. Kamina is not merely a mentor figure or a source of comic bravado. He is the force that makes Simon look upward. The show’s famous “believe in the me that believes in you” idea could have been corny in another context, but here it becomes a sincere expression of what it means to lend someone confidence until they can create their own.
The series’ willingness to change after its major emotional turning point is what elevates it beyond a very good action show. Gurren Lagann understands that inspirational speeches cannot erase trauma. Simon does not simply inherit Kamina’s confidence; he has to confront the fact that trying to imitate Kamina leaves him hollow. His eventual growth is about accepting Kamina’s influence without becoming trapped inside it. That distinction gives the show surprising maturity beneath all the bombast. Simon’s ultimate strength comes not from copying another person’s legend, but from finding a voice and resolve that belong to him alone.
Yoko is also more important than the usual “female lead in a shōnen-style action series” label would suggest. She has to serve as both a capable fighter and one of the few people who can puncture the boys’ more reckless impulses, but Gurren Lagann gives her a real emotional presence beyond that function. Her grief, her resilience, and her continued movement through a world that keeps changing around her make her feel essential to the story’s broader ideas about survival. The show’s presentation of Yoko can be very much of its mid-2000s anime era, and some of its fanservice has not aged particularly gracefully. Still, she is never reduced entirely to that material, and the series repeatedly reminds the audience that she is a veteran combatant and a person carrying losses of her own.
Visually, Gurren Lagann remains an absolute blast. Its art style is dynamic in a way that feels almost physically restless. The animation stretches bodies, machines, perspective, and scale for emotional effect rather than strict mechanical realism. Characters lean into poses so hard they feel like they might burst through the frame. Mecha do not merely move; they lunge, twist, slam, and spiral forward with a sense of weight and raw momentum. The show frequently uses exaggerated proportions, thick expressive linework, explosive color, and wild camera angles to make every confrontation feel bigger than the last. Even its stillness has energy, because the designs and compositions are always angled toward motion.
That visual approach has had a real influence on anime in the years since its release. You can see echoes of Gurren Lagann’s expressive exaggeration, bold color blocking, elastic action, and preference for emotional impact over restrained realism in much of the work associated with former Gainax talent and Studio Trigger, particularly Kill la Kill, Promare, Little Witch Academia, and Cyberpunk: Edgerunners. Its influence is broader than any one studio, though. The show helped solidify a modern appetite for animation that can be rough-edged, hyperactive, and knowingly excessive without sacrificing sincerity. A lot of later anime have chased its surface energy—the crazy transformations, the screaming declarations, the impossible scale—but fewer have replicated how carefully Gurren Lagann ties that escalation to character growth.
The mecha designs deserve special credit because they capture the show’s philosophy better than any speech could. Lagann starts as a small, almost toy-like machine, while Gurren is clunky, hot-blooded, and visually associated with Kamina’s swagger. When they combine into Gurren Lagann, the result is not sleek or conventionally elegant. It looks improvised, rebellious, and barely interested in obeying the normal rules of robotics. That is exactly the point. In Gurren Lagann, machines become expressions of willpower. They are not military hardware treated with sterile technical reverence; they are emotional extensions of the people piloting them. The more the characters believe they can surpass a limitation, the more absurdly grand their machines become.
The escalation is famously outrageous, but it is not random. The series moves from village-scale conflict to planetary stakes and eventually to something far beyond that, while preserving the same central question: what do people do when someone or something tells them that they have reached their limit? The antagonistic force behind the story, particularly through the Anti-Spiral, represents stagnation disguised as protection. The Anti-Spiral’s logic has a certain bleak rationality: humanity’s capacity to grow is dangerous, so it must be contained. Simon and the rest of Team Dai-Gurren respond with the series’ central rebuttal—that the risk of moving forward is inseparable from being alive. It is a simple message, but the show sells it with such conviction that it feels almost mythic.
This is also where Gurren Lagann separates itself from pure power fantasy. The characters win because they keep pushing forward, but the series does not pretend that forward movement makes pain disappear. People die. Dreams change. The ending, for all its spectacle, is not a cheap promise that determination guarantees a perfect reward. It recognizes that growing up often means accepting the cost of the choices that define you. Simon’s final arc is compelling because he becomes powerful enough to reshape the universe, yet the story still asks him to live with restraint, loss, and the knowledge that not every desire should be fulfilled simply because it can be.
The soundtrack is equally crucial to the experience. Taku Iwasaki’s score knows exactly when to go huge, mixing orchestral intensity, dramatic choral material, rock energy, and hip-hop-inflected momentum. “Libera Me From Hell” is the obvious standout, and it remains one of the most gloriously over-the-top climactic tracks in anime. It should not work as well as it does. The blend of opera and rap sounds like something invented as a joke, but in the context of Gurren Lagann, it feels completely natural. The song captures the entire show’s spirit: dramatic, strange, sincere, and unwilling to accept the idea that two seemingly incompatible things cannot be fused into something incredible.
There are flaws, of course. The first few episodes can feel especially frantic, and the humor occasionally leans into juvenile territory in ways that may test a new viewer’s patience. Some supporting characters get less development than they deserve, especially once the plot begins accelerating toward its larger conflicts. The fanservice is the element most likely to feel dated, since it can interrupt scenes that are otherwise focused on emotional gravity or visual spectacle. Yet even with those issues, Gurren Lagann never loses its sense of purpose. It is too alive, too earnest, and too committed to its own vision to feel disposable.
More than anything, Gurren Lagann endures because it understands the appeal of impossible optimism. It does not tell viewers that the world will always reward them, or that bravery means never being afraid. Instead, it argues that fear, grief, and uncertainty are not final states. You can carry them with you and still move forward. You can outgrow the person you used to be without betraying them. You can take inspiration from someone else without surrendering your own identity. And if the wall in front of you seems impossible to break, maybe the answer is not to wait for permission. Maybe you pick up a drill and start spinning.
Welcome to Retro Television Reviews, a feature where we review some of our favorite and least favorite shows of the past! On Sundays, I will be reviewing Homicide: Life On The Street, which aired from 1993 to 1999, on NBC! It can be viewed on Peacock.
This week, we discover that Daniel Baldwin will not be returning to Homicide.
Episode 5.21 “Partners and Other Strangers”
(Dir by Leslie Libman and Larry Williams, originally aired on May 9th, 1997)
A call to investigate what appears to be a suicide leads Pembleton and Brodie to an isolated house in Baltimore. The dead man has been found with a shotgun in his hands and his face blown apart. It’s not until Pembleton looks at the dead man’s ID that he discovers that the man is former Detective Beau Felton.
Played by Daniel Baldwin, Felton was originally a major character on Homicide. He was the cynical, sweaty detective who had an affair with Megan Russert, a partnership with Kay Howard, and a marriage with a crazy woman who wouldn’t let him see his kids. Felton is the one who Robin Williams yelled at for being an insensitive ass in the Bop Gun episode. As the series progressed and the focus shifted from characters like Felton and Bolander to Pembleton and Bayliss, Felton was given less and less too. Daniel Baldwin was fired from the series at the end of season 3. Felton was said to have been suspended for his rowdy behavior at a convention.
The episode fills us in on what happened to Felton after his suspension. He apparently retired from the force and then stopped returning phone calls. He disappeared and everyone else moved on. At first, the squad room wonders if they could have done anything to prevent Felton’s suicide. Howard and Lewis (who lost his previous partner to suicide and who nearly lost Kellerman to the same thing) are especially hit hard. We get several flashbacks to the episodes that featured Felton and we’re reminded of just how much Daniel Baldwin used to sweat when he was on the show.
Dr. Cox takes a look at the skull fragments and the blood splatter and she realizes that Felton didn’t kill himself. He was shot in the back of the head and then someone tried to make it look like he committed suicide. Pembleton, Howard, and Bayliss are now investigating the murder of Beau Felton and they’re getting some help.
Megan Russert flies in from France to offer up her skills as an investigator. If I remember correctly, Russert was never that good of a detective but it’s nice that she showed up.
Detective Paul Falsone (Jon Seda), from the auto theft squad, says that Felton was working with a notorious group of car thieves. Falsone wants to help the investigation for …. reasons, I guess.
Even if I didn’t already know that Falsone and Gharty are going to become regular characters during season six, it would be obvious from the introductions they’re given in this episode. Peter Gerety, who later played a sympathetic judge on The Wire, is fine in the role of Gharty. But I can already tell that Falsone is going to annoy me. Some of it is because his character is the type of cliche that Homicide has, to this point, avoided. He’s a young rebel who gets results …. HIS WAY! From the minute he shows up, he’s telling Howard and Pembleton how they should conduct their investigation and it’s kind of annoying. I mean, who the Hell is this jerk? As played by Jon Seda, Falsone mumbles the majority of his dialogue and he just doesn’t seem like he belongs on Homicide.
This is a two-parter so we’ll see how the investigation wraps up (or doesn’t) next week. Oddly, I have to admit that Felton’s death didn’t really have the type of emotional impact that the show seemed to think that it would. Unlike the lovably eccentric Crosetti, Felton was never really that interesting of a character. Far more impactful than the squadroom thinking about all of the times Felton acted like a jerk was the scene where Pembleton followed Bayliss to his uncle’s home. Later, Pembleton told Bayliss that he now understood why Bayliss has been missing work. In the past, this would have led to a fight between the two of them but both Bayliss and Pembleton have grown over the season. Pembleton apologizes for following Bayliss. (“I’m a detective. It’s what I do.”) Bayliss opens up about how he’s struggling with the concept of forgiveness. As always, the show’s heart is with Bayliss and Pembleton.
After reading a lot of negative reviews, I went into this 2011 remake of Sam Peckinpah’s STRAW DOGS expecting to not like it. I only bought the DVD because I’m a James Woods super-fan and completist. The good thing about that lowering of expectations, though, is that in my first viewing (in 2026) I was able to focus on the movie itself rather than in comparison to the original. After watching it, I would never argue that this version is a great movie, but I did find myself enjoying it more than I thought I would.
David and Amy Sumner (James Marsden and Kate Bosworth) arrive in her childhood hometown of Blackwater, Mississippi, where David plans to work on a screenplay while they fix up her old family home. David’s a successful Hollywood screenwriter, but he’s not tough at all, which is at odds with the small town football and southern deer-hunting culture he now finds himself in. Amy, who’s had some success as an actress, has a history with many of the people in town, especially her old boyfriend Charlie (Alexander Skarsgard). Eventually that history turns into something much more dangerous than you would ever imagine (if you hadn’t seen the original).
Because I’ve only seen the original film once or twice in my currently 52-year-old life, I don’t necessarily hold it as some sort of untouchable masterpiece of cinema, and I can like how this version of STRAW DOGS builds its tension. There are definitely some moments where I found myself wondering what the hell David and Amy were thinking. David seems intent on giving the local yokels every possible opportunity to walk all over him. Then again, as a person who always tries to be nice and avoid a fight, I don’t know how much different I would have been. I would hope that if my wife and entire livelihood was being threatened, however, I’d find the intestinal fortitude to do whatever it takes to protect them and myself. David eventually does find that nature within himself.
Amy’s unexplained behavior is even worse. After being offended that the locals ogle her when she’s exercising, she decides the appropriate response is taking her top off purposely in front of an open window so those same locals can see. While I can unequivocally state that there’s never any excuse for violence against women among rational people, the problem is that these are irrational people who don’t play by the rules of society. This is one of those cases where the only possible explanation for Amy’s behavior is because the screenplay needed her to do it. Even when the worst case scenario eventually plays out, the despicable behavior taps into our basic instincts and we want to see vengeance served.
James Marsden and Kate Bosworth are okay as David and Amy. Their characters aren’t particularly engaging, but you can’t help but pull for them in comparison to those around them. Alexander Skarsgard is awkward and creepy as Charlie, Amy’s old boyfriend. I loved him as the powerful vampire in the HBO series TRUE BLOOD. He’s something totally different here, and he eventually goes so far off the reservation you can’t help but want him to get his comeuppance. Of course, I wanted to watch the movie because of James Woods, who plays Tom Heddon, a former local high school football coach who seems to be just a drunk at the bar these days. It turns out that he’s loud, mean and incredibly nasty. In a history of playing vicious bastards, this character plays out as one of his worst. It’s an incredible performance just a couple of years before, as Woods has said, his unapologetically conservative political views would essentially get him blackballed from Hollywood.
The final scenes are extremely violent, and based on what we’ve seen, it’s hard not to feel that the violence is justified. It’s ugly, but I won’t deny that I wasn’t emotionally moved to see it. Legendary film critic Roger Ebert would say that he preferred this remake to the original. I won’t go that far, but that’s a pretty strong indicator that this film shouldn’t be dismissed just because most won’t find it to be as good as the original. What it is is a mean, violent thriller with some strong performances, especially from Skarsgard and Woods. If you’re willing to forget that it’s a remake of a superior film from 40 years earlier, you just may enjoy it!
Today, the Shattered Lens wishes a happy birthday to actor Steve Carell. This scene that I love is from Foxcatcherand it features Carell cast against type, as the sociopathic John du Pont. (Carell received his first and — to date — last Oscar nomination for his performance as Du Pont.) In this scene, Du Pont corrupts a young wrestler played by Channing Tatum.
4 Or More Shots From 4 Or More Films is just what it says it is, 4 shots from 4 of our favorite films. As opposed to the reviews and recaps that we usually post, 4 Shots From 4 Films lets the visuals do the talking!
Today, the Shattered Lens wishes a happy birthday to director James Cameron. It’s time for….
4 Shots From 4 James Cameron Films
The Terminator (1984, dir. James Cameron)
Aliens (1986, dir by James Cameron)
Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991, dir. James Cameron)
This song, which Ozzy said was actually about a serial killer, was the title track from Osbourne’s 6th solo album. The video was directed by Ralph Ziman, who also did videos for Vanessa Williams, Toni Braxton, Alice Cooper, L.A. Gun, and Faith No More.
The little girl at the end of the video is Kelly Osbourne.
“The day the rains came, we learned we were not alone.” — Ruth Delgado
The Last House has the kind of premise that is immediately effective: a family wakes up to find that their home has become an inescapable prison. Doors refuse to open, windows cannot be broken, and the outside world is suddenly as unreachable as it is threatening. Directed by Louis Leterrier, the Netflix thriller gets plenty of mileage out of that simple idea. It turns a comfortable suburban house into a claustrophobic survival space, pushes a family toward desperation, and gives its familiar setting a creeping sense of hostility. Still, while the movie is often tense and well-acted, it eventually becomes too crowded with ideas to make any one of them land as strongly as it should.
Wagner Moura and Greta Lee play Jason and Ann Delgado, parents trying to keep their two children calm while they figure out why they have been sealed inside their own home. The film wisely does not waste much time getting to the central crisis. Once the family realizes that no amount of force can open a door or shatter a window, the atmosphere shifts quickly from confusion to panic. At first, there is still a practical logic to their reactions. They test the house’s boundaries, look for tools, try to contact the outside world, and ration what they have. But as each option fails, the family begins to understand that this is not a temporary inconvenience. It is a situation that may outlast their food, water, patience, and ability to trust one another.
That is where The Last House is at its strongest. The film understands how quickly a normal home can become frightening once its basic purpose changes. Kitchens, bedrooms, closets, and hallways are not inherently scary spaces, but the movie makes them feel smaller and more oppressive as the Delgados lose their sense of control. A stocked pantry becomes a countdown. A closed bedroom door no longer offers privacy. The family’s routines and minor annoyances, which initially make the house feel lived-in, become sources of friction when nobody has the option to leave. The production design effectively captures that deterioration, gradually turning an ordinary family home into a cramped, stale environment defined by empty shelves, dim rooms, and blocked exits.
Moura is the film’s standout. Jason begins as someone who wants to solve the problem through force of will and practical action, but that confidence wears down as he realizes that the situation is beyond him. Moura gives the character a believable mix of frustration, fear, and stubbornness. He is not simply an action-thriller father trying to save the day; he is a man whose sense of usefulness begins to collapse when he cannot protect his family or even provide a way out. Greta Lee is also good as Ann, particularly when the film allows her to show the exhaustion of having to steady everyone else while quietly processing the danger herself. However, Ann is not written with quite as much specificity as Jason, and Lee is sometimes left carrying scenes that ask her to reassure or react rather than reveal more about who she is.
The children help maintain the emotional stakes, though their roles are less developed. Their fear and frustration make sense, and the film does a decent job of showing how confinement affects them differently than it affects their parents. But they often function more as pressure points for Jason and Ann than as characters with their own fully formed perspectives. The family dynamic is convincing enough to keep the story grounded, yet the screenplay never digs quite deeply enough into their shared history or unresolved tensions. There are signs of financial strain, parental guilt, and marital distance, but the movie tends to introduce these ideas without fully following through on them.
The film also brushes against an interesting nature-versus-civilization theme. The Delgados’ home represents the ordinary comforts that make modern life feel secure: stocked food, electricity, sturdy walls, private rooms, and the assumption that help is available when something goes wrong. Once the house becomes sealed, those comforts lose their meaning. The family is forced to focus on the basics—food, water, shelter, sleep, and cooperation. Their home no longer separates them from danger; it contains them inside it. The movie’s best thematic moments come from that reversal, as it suggests that civilization is much more fragile than people like to believe.
Unfortunately, The Last House complicates this solid foundation by adding another mysterious danger from the depths. The threat remains vague for much of the story, and that uncertainty creates an unnatural, ominous feeling around the family’s confinement. It gives the film an extra layer of dread, making the Delgados’ problem feel bigger than a sealed house or an isolated storm. But it also pulls attention away from the more compelling material already in place. The family’s struggle to survive, their conflict over dwindling resources, and their gradual loss of trust are strong enough to sustain the movie without needing such an elaborate additional mystery.
That is ultimately the film’s main weakness: it keeps expanding its scope when it should be tightening its focus. The intimate story of a family stuck together under impossible conditions is more powerful than the larger explanation the movie slowly reaches for. As the plot adds more questions about the source of the danger, it risks making the situation feel less immediate. The best scenes are not necessarily the ones that hint at what is happening beyond the walls. They are the ones where the Delgados must decide who gets the last resources, whether to take a reckless chance, or how much truth the parents should tell their children. Those moments make the house feel like a real emotional battleground rather than simply the setting for a mystery.
Leterrier keeps the pacing moving well enough, especially in the first half, and the rainy exterior, muted lighting, and increasingly worn-down interiors give the film a consistently uneasy mood. Even when the screenplay starts to overreach, the movie remains watchable because it knows how to frame the house as a hostile space. It is not a deeply original visual concept, but it is effective. The sense of enclosure becomes almost physical as the family’s world shrinks to a few rooms and the possibility of escape starts to feel less real with every failed attempt.
In the end, The Last House is a decent, occasionally gripping survival thriller that does not fully live up to the potential of its premise. Moura and Lee give it enough emotional weight, and the movie’s domestic setting gives the tension a relatable edge. Yet the script does not always trust its strongest idea: that being trapped with the people you love can become frightening when there is no exit, no help, and no certainty that normal life will return. By piling a mysterious external danger onto its family drama and survival story, The Last House becomes more ambitious without becoming more meaningful. It is worth watching for its atmosphere, performances, and early suspense, but it would have been stronger as a leaner, more focused film about a family discovering how quickly safety can turn into confinement.
Welcome to Late Night Retro Television Reviews, a feature where we review some of our favorite and least favorite shows of the past! On Saturdays, I will be reviewing Saved By The Bell, which ran on NBC from 1989 to 1993. The entire show is currently streaming on Tubi!
This week, Rod Belding comes to Bayside.
Episode 3.1 “The Fabolous Belding Boys”
(Dir by Don Barnhart, originally aired on December 9th, 1990)
“You’re jealous of your own brother!” Zack snaps at Mr. Belding in this episode and you really do have to wonder how Zack was always able to get away with using that tone of voice with his principal. Most students would end up getting expelled if they talked to any adult that way.
Mr. Belding really goes through the ringer this episode. After the authoritarian history teacher has a nervous breakdown, Belding reluctantly allows his younger brother, long-haired Rod (Edward Blatchford), to teach the class. Soon, Rod is throwing away the midterm exam and allowing the students to pick their own grades. (Screech gives himself a B-.) Rod also convinces the students — well, a small handful of them — that the next class trip should involve white water rafting instead of going to Yosemite like his brother suggested.
That Rod is one cool guy until he decides, at literally the last minute, to blow off the rafting trip so he can hang out with a stewardess. “Cover f0r me!” Rod tells Mr. Belding. “Get out of my school, Rod,” Belding says, not knowing that Zack has overheard the entire converastation.
Mr. Belding does cover for his brother by claiming that Rod has the flu but he also volunteers to take his brother’s place on the rafting trip. Now, it’s already been established that Mr. Belding has no experience with white water rafting and apparently, he can’t even swim. So, there’s a good chance that the senior class is going to lose a few members over the weekend. But for now, all that matters is that the school trip is back on.
Zack apologizes to Mr. Belding.
“Rod is the more exciting Belding,” Mr. Belding admits.
“We got the better Belding,” Zack replies.
Awwwww!
This is definitely one of the best episodes of Saved By The Bell. For once, Belding gets to be something other than a fool and Zack is forced to admit that he was wrong wrong. Dennis Haskins shines in this episode and, for that matter, so does Edward Blatchford as Rod.
As I watched this episode, I was reminded of that episode of Good Morning Miss Bliss in which Bliss’s mentor was hired as a substitute and did a lot of the same crap that Rod did. On Good Morning Miss Bliss, the substitute was portrayed as being a hero. On Saved By The Bell, he’s a self-absorbed creep. The Saved By The Bell version is the better version.
Through the Shattered Lens 