As some of our regular readers undoubtedly know, I am involved in a few weekly watch parties. On Twitter, I host #FridayNightFlix every Friday and I co-host #ScarySocial on Saturday. On Mastodon, I am one of the five hosts of #MondayActionMovie! Every week, we get together. We watch a movie. We tweet our way through it.
Tonight, at 10 pm et, I will be hosting #FridayNightFlix! The movie? The Hunt for the Wilderpeople, starring Sam Neill!
If you want to join us this Friday, just hop onto twitter, find The Hunt For The Wilderpeople on Prime, start the movie at 10 pm et, and use the #FridayNightFlix hashtag! I’ll be there happily tweeting. It’s a friendly group and welcoming of newcomers so don’t be shy.
4 Shots From 4 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.
It’s the Hoff’s birthday! That means that it is time for….
4 Shots From 4 David Hasselhoff Films
Starcrash (1978, dir by Luigi Cozzi, DP: Paul Beeson and Roberto D’Ettorre Piazzoli)
Witchery (1988, dir by Fabrizio Laurenti, DP: Gianlorenzo Battaglia)
Panic At Malibu Pier (1989, dir by Richard Compton, DP: John McPherson)
Nick Fury: Agent of SHIELD (1998, dir by Rod Hardy, DP: James Bartle)
When it came to music videos, they’ve never needed to do anything fancy. They’re not one of those bands that needs a bunch of bells and whistles to look impressive. All they have to do is come out on stage and rock. Their best music videos are usually very simple performance clips, like this one.
This video was filmed at the Sidney Myer Music Bowl in Melbourne, Australia. If it looks rough, that’s because it was supposed to be a part of a large concert film but the film’s backers ran out of money before any major post-production work could be done. The rough look, however, works for AC/DC. They are a band that could handle looking rough.
Russell Mulchay, of course, went on to direct multiple videos for Duran Duran, along with Highlander.
Old School is one of those comedies that feels like it was made in a lab to be the perfect guilty pleasure, a film that knows exactly what it is and doesn’t apologize for a second of it. Directed by Todd Phillips in 2003, it’s a raucous, often ridiculous ode to arrested development, where three thirtysomething men decide the solution to their midlife crises is to start a fraternity and relive their college glory days. On paper, it sounds like the kind of premise that could either be hilariously relatable or painfully cringe-inducing. In execution, it somehow manages to be both, which is exactly why it works as well as it does.
The story centers around Mitch, Frank, and Beanie, played by Luke Wilson, Will Ferrell, and Vince Vaughn, respectively. Mitch is a mild-mannered attorney whose world implodes when he walks in on his girlfriend, Heidi (Juliette Lewis), mid-orgy in his own bathroom. Frank, a former legendary party animal known as “Frank the Tank,” is about to get married but can’t seem to let go of his wild past. Beanie, the most level-headed of the trio, is a family man who still feels the pull of his youth. When Mitch impulsively buys a house near a college campus, Beanie suggests they turn it into a fraternity, and thus, the most chaotic midlife crisis in cinematic history begins. The premise is thin, but the film doesn’t need much more than an excuse to string together a series of increasingly absurd set pieces.
What makes Old School so much fun is the chemistry between its three leads. Wilson plays the straight man to Ferrell and Vaughn’s antics, grounding the film with a relatable everyman quality. Vaughn, with his rapid-fire delivery and sharp wit, is the glue that holds the trio together, while Ferrell steals every scene he’s in as the unhinged, beer-chugging, streaking force of nature that is Frank the Tank. Ferrell’s performance is a masterclass in commitment to the bit, whether he’s chugging beers in his underwear, delivering a motivational speech about the importance of “earning” respect, or streaking through a neighborhood in one of the most iconic comedy scenes of the 2000s. His energy is infectious, and it’s hard not to laugh at the sheer audacity of his character, even when the humor leans into the absurd or the juvenile.
The supporting cast is packed with familiar faces who add texture to the film’s world. Jeremy Piven is delightfully slimy as Dean Pritchard, the smug, power-tripping dean of students who holds a grudge against the trio from their own college days. Ellen Pompeo, pre-Grey’s Anatomy, plays Nicole, Mitch’s high school crush, who re-enters his life at Frank’s wedding and becomes a romantic subplot that feels both sweet and slightly out of place in a movie this committed to chaos. Leah Remini, Juliette Lewis, and Elisha Cuthbert round out the cast, each bringing their own flavor to the proceedings. The film also features a slew of cameos, from Snoop Dogg as himself to James Carville, which adds to its anything-goes vibe.
Todd Phillips’ direction leans heavily into the film’s frat-house aesthetic, with a loose, improvisational feel that mirrors the energy of its characters. The movie doesn’t bother with subtlety or nuance; it’s a series of escalating gags and set pieces designed to elicit laughs, and for the most part, it succeeds. The humor is often crude, sometimes dumb, but always delivered with a sense of enthusiasm that’s hard to resist. The film’s pacing is brisk, jumping from one ridiculous scenario to the next without much time to breathe, which works in its favor. There’s no pretension here—Old School isn’t trying to be a smart comedy or a biting satire. It’s a beer-soaked, testosterone-fueled romp, and it owns that identity with pride.
One of the film’s most memorable sequences is the “Mitch-A-Palooza” party, a rager that cements the trio’s status as campus legends. The party is a microcosm of everything Old School does well: it’s loud, it’s messy, and it’s filled with the kind of over-the-top antics that make you laugh even as you shake your head in disbelief. The scene where Frank the Tank rallies the troops with a speech about the importance of “earning your letters” before chugging a beer in his underwear is a perfect example of the film’s brand of humor. It’s stupid, it’s juvenile, but it’s also undeniably funny, thanks in large part to Ferrell’s commitment to the bit.
That said, Old School isn’t without its flaws. The film’s humor often relies on shock value and crude jokes, which won’t land for everyone. Some of the gags feel dated, and the film’s treatment of women is, at times, simplistic. The female characters are often relegated to the roles of either love interests or obstacles, and the movie’s worldview is unapologetically male-centric. It’s a product of its time, and while that doesn’t excuse some of its more problematic elements, it does explain them. The film also suffers from a lack of depth in its storytelling. The plot is thin, and the character arcs are minimal, but that’s almost beside the point. Old School isn’t trying to be a deep or meaningful film—it’s trying to be a fun, raucous comedy, and on that front, it largely delivers.
What makes Old School such a great guilty pleasure is its sheer unapologetic joy in its own ridiculousness. The film doesn’t pretend to be anything other than what it is: a celebration of immaturity, friendship, and the kind of chaos that can only come from a group of grown men trying to relive their youth. There’s something oddly endearing about the way Mitch, Frank, and Beanie cling to their college days, as if they’re afraid of what comes next. It’s a theme that resonates with anyone who’s ever felt a pang of nostalgia for a time when life felt simpler, even if that time was also filled with questionable decisions and questionable haircuts.
The film’s soundtrack is another standout element, packed with a mix of classic rock, hip-hop, and pop hits that perfectly complement its vibe. From Whitesnake’s “Here I Go Again” to Metallica’s “Master of Puppets,” the music adds an extra layer of energy to the film’s already high-octane proceedings. The soundtrack isn’t just background noise—it’s a character in its own right, helping to set the tone for each scene and amplifying the film’s sense of fun.
In the years since its release, Old School has only grown in stature as a cult classic, a film that’s frequently quoted, referenced, and revisited by fans. Lines like “You’re my boy, Blue!” and “Frank the Tank” have entered the comedic lexicon, and the film’s influence can be seen in the wave of bro comedies that followed in its wake. It’s a testament to the film’s enduring appeal that it still feels fresh and funny, even as some of its jokes and sensibilities have aged less gracefully.
At its core, Old School is a movie about friendship and the lengths we’ll go to hold onto the past. Mitch, Frank, and Beanie may be thirtysomethings, but their hearts are still stuck in their college days, and their journey is as much about reconnecting with each other as it is about reliving their youth. The film’s message isn’t exactly profound—sometimes, you just need to let loose and have fun—but it’s delivered with such enthusiasm and charm that it’s hard not to get swept up in it. And if that message comes wrapped in a package of crude jokes, ridiculous antics, and a healthy dose of nostalgia, well, that’s just part of the charm.
Ultimately, Old School is the kind of movie that you don’t so much watch as you experience. It’s a film that demands to be seen with friends, preferably with a few beers in hand and a willingness to embrace the chaos. It’s not perfect, and it’s certainly not for everyone, but for those who are willing to go along for the ride, it’s a wildly entertaining, laugh-out-loud romp that never fails to deliver on its promise of fun. It’s a guilty pleasure, sure, but sometimes, the best kind of movies are the ones that don’t take themselves too seriously. Old School is a reminder that it’s okay to be a little immature, to embrace the chaos, and to never stop chasing the things that make you happy—even if those things involve starting a fraternity in your 30s.
Welcome to Late Night Retro Television Reviews, a feature where we review some of our favorite and least favorite shows of the past! On Thursdays, I will be reviewing Hunter, which aired on NBC from 1984 to 1991. The entire show is currently streaming on Tubi and several other services!
This week, someone wants to help out Hunter!
Episode 1.12 “The Avenging Angel”
(Dir by James Whitmore, Jr., originally aired on January 18th, 1985)
After Hunter receives an anonymous phone tip, he arrests Dr. Pierpoint (Angus Duncan) for attempting to hire a criminal known as “The Rat” to kill his wife. When Hunter makes the arrest, he actually has to Mirandize him twice because the doctor was unconscious the first time that Hunter read him his rights. Oh, Hunter!
Unfortunately, things fall apart at trial. The Rat (Robert Pastorelli, whose career later fell apart after the mysterious death of his girlfriend) changes his testimony at the last minute and says that Pierpoint never hired him to kill his wife. The case is dismissed. Hunter is upset. Even more upset is Arnold Morton (Robert Gray), a surveillance expert who idolizes Hunter and who makes it his mission to take down not just Pierpoint and the Rat but also defense attorney Nell Armstong (Nancy Stafford).
This was an interesting episode. The story didn’t quite work but the idea behind it was intriguing. Morton, who has bugged Hunter and has been following him for weeks, considers himself to be Hunter’s avenging angel. When Hunter makes it clear that he’s not cool with the whole vigilante thing, Morton turns on him like a lover scorned. This is like Hunter’s version of Magnum Force.
As for McCall, she spends most of this episode just trying to go on a date with her latest boyfriend, Ted (Rod Haase). Unfortunately, Hunter keeps interrupting. Ted is a nice guy about it but it’s pretty obvious that McCall and Hunter are meant to be together.
The highlight of this episode? Hunter destroying his phone while searching for a bug. In the role of Captain Dolan, John Amos got to do his whole, “Hunter, what the Hell are you doing!?” thing. That’s always entertaining.
As I said, the episode didn’t quite work. I never really bought that Arnold could do everything that he managed to do in this episode. I mean, for someone who lived in an abandoned arcade and drove a broken-down van, Arnold seemed to have unlimited resources. I will give a shout out to the show’s art department for including a poster of Lucio Fulci’s Zombi 2 in Arnold’s office.
It’s always funny to me how, in every episode, Hunter has got someone trying to kill him and no one but McCall seems to care.
Welcome to Retro Television Reviews, a feature where we review some of our favorite and least favorite shows of the past! On Thursdays, I will be reviewing Decoy, which aired in Syndication in 1957 and 1958. The show can be viewed on Tubi!
This week, it’s the next-to-last episode Decoy!
Episode 1.38 “First Arrest”
(Dir by Arthur H. Singer, originally aired on June 30th, 1958)
Casey meets with a new, rookie policewoman (Ellen Madison) at Coney Island. The rookie just made her first arrest and is now in tears because she’s worried that she’s ruined someone’s life. Casey tells the story of her first assignment and what it was like to make her first arrest.
Flashback time!
The NYPD believes that a fencing operation is being run out of a Coney Island carnival sideshow. Young and eager, Casey gets a job as an exotic dancer at the carnival. (Calm down, boys. She wears one of the least-revealing costumes of all time.) Shy and insecure Willie Graff (Joshua Shelley) develops a crush on Casey. Casey, suspecting that Willie is the fence, plays along but she starts to feel guilty as she realizes that Willie isn’t some sort of dangerous criminal. He’s just a down-on-his-luck guy who is cutting a few corners. He even introduces Casey to his mother (Ruth McDevitt).
When Willie gives Casey a diamond necklace, she assumes that it must be stolen but it turns out that it’s his mother’s necklace and that Mrs. Graff wants Casey to have it. Casey is actually relieved because it seems like Willie isn’t the fence that she’s looking for. However, then Willie gives her a mink coat and admits that he bought it from someone who had stolen it. Though saddened, Casey forces herself to arrest Willie.
In the present, Casey assures the rookie that she will soon get used to arresting people and she won’t care about them anymore. Yikes!
As you may have guessed, I didn’t really care much for this episode. That idea of Casey being someone who doesn’t care about the people who she arrests pretty much goes totally against everything we’ve seen over the past 37 episodes. The thing that always set Casey apart was that she does care. She has to do her job but she also understands that sometimes, people just make mistakes. Unless it’s case in which she was threatened, Casey usually doesn’t take any joy in slapping the handcuffs on someone.
As much as I hate to say it, Beverly Garland is not particularly convincing in the flashback scenes. Young Casey is written as being continually breathless and unsure of herself. There’s nothing about Beverly Garland’s screen presence that suggests insecurity.
This was a disappointing episode. Next week, we’ll be finishing up Decoy and I hope it goes out on a better note than this.
Hi, everyone! Tonight, on Mastodon, I will be hosting the #TubiThursday watch party! Join us for In The Mouth of Madness, starring Sam Neill!
You can find the movie on Tubi or YouTube and you can join us on Mastodon at 9 pm central time! (That’s 10 pm for you folks on the East Coast.) We will be using #TubiThursday hashtag! See you then!
Through the Shattered Lens 