Tis the season that hardworking New York reporters find themselves stranded in snowy middle America and end up falling in love while saving historic inns! In 2017’s Snowed Inn Christmas, the two reporters are played by Bethany Joy Lenz and Andrew W. Walker and the inn is located in Santa Claus, Indiana.
Yes, it’s predictable. Most of these films are. That’s actually a huge part of their appeal. They take place in a much more innocent world and they celebrate the holiday season without shame or snarkiness. The important thing is that Bethany Joy Lenz and Andrew W. Walker eventually make for a cute couple and the snowy scenery is really nice to look at.
In 2019’s A Karate Christmas Miracle, young Jesse Genesis (Mario Del Vecchio) believes that if he can become a black belt in four days, his father — who has been missing for a year — will return home. Jesse’s mother, Abby (Mila Milosevic) tries to get Jesse to understand that his father was abducted and probably murdered by a killer clown. Eventually, trying to understand what happened to her husband, Abby teams up with Elizabeth (Julie McCullough), a quirky law professor who is also psychic.
This is a strange film. Eric Roberts and Martin Kove are listed as co-starring in the film but actually, all of their footage appears to have been lifted from 2015’s Joker’s Poltergeist, a film that stylistically and thematically has next to nothing in common with A Karate Christmas Miracle. Scenes of Jesse practicing karate and trying to work his way up to black belt in just six days are mixed with scenes of Eric Roberts threatening to kill people and Martin Kove rambling about he wants to leave a movie theater to his daughter. The scenes just don’t mix but they do show that if Eric Roberts and Martin Kove aren’t available to do your bad movie, you can just lift scenes of them from an even worse movie.
Sitting through A Karate Christmas Miracle is a bit of a struggle. It’s only 81 minutes long but every scene still goes on for too long and the dialogue is full of overly quirky moments that probably sounded great in the writer’s head but which play out very awkwardly on film. This movie really made me appreciate films that are actually edited in a professional manner. We tend to take good editing for granted. This movie reminds us not to.
Now, to be honest, the story did have some potential. A child is so desperate for his father to return that he sets an impossible goal for himself. Seriously, in the right hands, this could have been a real tearjerker. But everything about A Karate Christmas Miracle just feels off. The film works itself towards an heartfelt ending that it really hasn’t earned.
Perhaps the best thing that can be said about this film is that it’s still better than Joker’s Poltergeist.
Previous Eric Roberts Films That We Have Reviewed:
Lethal Weapon is one of those action movies that looks like pure genre formula on paper but somehow plays like lightning in a bottle on screen. From the opening moments, it feels like a film that knows exactly what kind of ride it wants to deliver and leans into that mission with confidence, attitude, and just enough heart to make the bullets and explosions actually matter.
The premise itself is as straightforward as they come, and that simplicity is part of the charm. Martin Riggs is the textbook “cop on the edge,” a former special forces sniper whose life has completely fallen apart after the death of his wife. He’s volatile, depressed, and teetering on the edge of suicidal, which gives everything he does an extra layer of danger. On the other side of the pairing is Roger Murtaugh, a seasoned detective staring down his 50th birthday, trying to balance a long career in homicide with the quiet, constant pull of his family at home. When these two are thrown together and assigned to a case involving drugs, dead bodies, and shady ex-military criminals, the story plays out across familiar beats: suspicious deaths, escalating confrontations, close calls, and a trail that leads them deeper into a dangerous operation. The crime plot is pulpy and direct rather than twisty, but the film uses it as a sturdy framework rather than the main point of interest, keeping the investigation moving while the characters come into focus. Much of that sharp setup and snappy progression comes from Shane Black’s script, which crackles with knowing genre savvy, pitch-perfect banter, and a keen eye for how personal pain fuels action-hero antics.
What really makes Lethal Weapon feel alive is how much time it spends letting Riggs and Murtaugh exist as people before they fully morph into the “classic duo” that pop culture remembers. The film doesn’t rush past the small stuff. Riggs is introduced living in a rundown trailer on the beach with his scruffy dog for company, drinking and stumbling through life with the casual recklessness of someone who genuinely doesn’t care if he sees tomorrow. Those early moments of him alone, flirting with self-destruction, give his later heroics a sense of tragic context: he’s not just fearless, he’s half-convinced he has nothing left to lose. Murtaugh’s introduction is a complete contrast: a crowded home, kids, a loving wife, and the kind of loud, chaotic domestic life that’s full of relatable irritation and warmth. Seeing him grumble through birthday milestones or awkwardly handle family situations does more for his character than any speech about his years on the force could. These slices of everyday life build a strong emotional foundation so that when the bullets start flying, there’s something at stake beyond catching bad guys. Black’s writing shines here, weaving those intimate details into the thriller beats without ever feeling forced or preachy.
The chemistry between Mel Gibson and Danny Glover is the film’s true secret weapon. Gibson plays Riggs as an unpredictable live wire, able to flip from goofy physical comedy to chilling seriousness in an instant. He sells the idea that this is a man barely keeping it together, yet still razor-sharp when it comes to the job. There’s a constant sense that his jokes and antics are a flimsy barrier over something very raw. Glover, by contrast, keeps Murtaugh grounded and human; his performance is packed with little sighs, muttered reactions, and weary facial expressions that speak volumes. He comes across as a guy who has seen too much, loves his family, and genuinely wants to do the right thing, but is exhausted by how hard that is in practice. Their initial friction hits the expected “mismatched partners” beats: Murtaugh thinks Riggs is unstable and dangerous, while Riggs treats Murtaugh like a fussy old man who doesn’t get it. Yet as they move through stakeouts, interrogations, and gunfights, their banter evolves from pure irritation into an easy rhythm filled with barbs, mutual respect, and eventually real affection. Shane Black’s dialogue is the glue for all of it—witty, profane, and laced with just enough vulnerability to make the laughs land harder and the tension feel real.
Richard Donner’s direction is a huge part of why all of this clicks as well as it does. He has a knack for blending big, commercial genre instincts with an eye for character detail, and Lethal Weapon is a textbook example of that balance. He stages action scenes with clear geography and rhythm, so even when things get loud and chaotic, you always know where you are and what everyone is trying to do. At the same time, he’s just as interested in the quiet beats: a pause on Riggs’ face after a joke lands flat, Murtaugh’s body language when he walks into his noisy home after a brutal day, the way a conversation in a car can shift from banter to confession in a couple of lines. Donner keeps the film moving at a brisk pace, but he knows when to let a shot linger or a silence hang long enough to tell you what the characters can’t quite say out loud. His tonal control—jumping from dark to funny to tense without completely losing the thread—is a big reason the movie doesn’t collapse under its own genre juggling, and it pairs beautifully with Black’s script that sets up those shifts so precisely.
Tonally, Lethal Weapon walks a tricky line, and that’s a big part of its identity. On one hand, this is a story with genuinely dark undercurrents. Riggs’ suicidal impulses are not a throwaway character quirk; the film gives time to scenes where he nearly acts on them and struggles in a very raw way with his grief and loneliness. The case they’re working breaks open into territory involving drugs, exploitation, and violence that’s sometimes nasty rather than cleanly heroic. On the other hand, the film is full of humor, ranging from quick one-liners to broad physical bits. The Murtaugh household provides a lot of that levity: awkward conversations with his kids, Riggs stumbling through family dynamics, and the contrast between domestic calm and the chaos of the streets. The movie often jumps from heavy emotional beats to comedic ones and back again, and while the transitions can be abrupt, that mixture is part of what keeps it from feeling like just another grim cop story. The laughter doesn’t erase the darker material, but it does give the movie a sense of momentum and charm that keeps it entertaining instead of oppressive. Black’s screenplay nails this push-pull, using humor as both release valve and revelation.
As an action film, Lethal Weapon delivers a steady run of sequences that are energetic, clear, and tactile. The action is built around physical stunts, dangerous-looking falls, and gunfights that feel chaotic without becoming incoherent. One memorable sequence has Riggs dealing with a jumper on a rooftop in a way that instantly tells you everything about his mentality and willingness to risk himself. Another set piece in a more open, exposed environment lets the film escalate tension step by step before violence finally erupts. Through it all, Donner keeps a strong sense of spatial clarity; you can track where the characters are, what they’re trying to do, and how each decision raises the stakes. The fights feel scrappy and painful rather than overly slick, and that slightly rough quality actually works in the movie’s favor, making each impact land harder. Riggs, especially, moves like a human weapon, hurling himself into situations with a recklessness that ties directly into his psychological state, all fueled by Black’s clever plotting that makes those risks feel personal.
Underneath the gunfire and explosions, there’s a surprisingly sturdy emotional core tying everything together. Riggs’ grief isn’t just window dressing; it’s the lens through which his every decision makes sense. The movie doesn’t lecture you about what he’s feeling, but it shows it—through quiet moments alone, through the anger that erupts at all the wrong times, and through the way he throws his body into danger almost as if daring the world to take him out. Murtaugh’s arc is more subtle but still strongly drawn. He’s at an age where he has to confront the reality that he can’t keep pace with younger, more reckless colleagues forever, and yet his sense of duty keeps pulling him into situations where his family might lose him. Throughout their investigation, Murtaugh’s protective instincts—toward his loved ones, toward Riggs, and toward innocent people caught in the crossfire—become as important as his skills as a detective.
The relationship that develops between Riggs and Murtaugh is the heart of the film and the main reason it sticks in the memory. At first, Murtaugh just wants to survive partnering with a man he genuinely believes might be unhinged, while Riggs seems to treat their pairing as just another chaotic twist in a life already off the rails. As they trade confessions, back each other up in tight spots, and slowly understand what the other is carrying, their bond shifts into something like brotherhood. Murtaugh becomes a kind of anchor for Riggs, offering not just backup in a fight but also a place at the table, both literally and figuratively. Riggs, in turn, forces Murtaugh out of his comfort zone, reminding him that he still has plenty of courage and fire left in him. The film doesn’t turn their connection into a sentimental soapbox, but it lets small moments—a shared laugh after a narrow escape, a quiet conversation after the chaos—do the emotional lifting, with Black’s words giving those scenes their understated power.
If there’s a clear weak spot, it’s that the villains are fairly thinly drawn, operating more as looming threats than fully realized characters. They are dangerous and organized, capable of serious brutality and clearly involved in serious criminal operations, but the movie doesn’t spend much time exploring their motivations or inner lives. They’re the kind of antagonists designed to be obstacles: formidable enough to make the heroes’ victories feel earned, but not so complex that they distract from the central duo. For a character-driven action film, that trade-off mostly works. When Lethal Weapon is firing on all cylinders, the tension doesn’t come from wondering what the bad guys will do next so much as from seeing how Riggs and Murtaugh will handle whatever gets thrown at them and what that reveals about who they are.
Structurally, the film keeps a tight pace, always nudging the story forward even when it pauses for character beats. Expository scenes rarely feel like dry info dumps; they’re often laced with jokes, personal jabs, or subtle shifts in how the two leads relate to each other. The downtime moments—a quiet drink, a shared meal, a conversation in a car between partners who would rather pretend they’re fine—are as important as the louder ones. By the time the case ramps up to its most intense passages, there’s been enough time with these characters to care less about the mechanics of the plot and more about whether these two damaged, stubborn men can come out the other side with something to hold onto.
What ultimately makes Lethal Weapon work so well is that it doesn’t settle for being just a checklist of genre requirements. Yes, it has gunfights, dark humor, car chases, and tough-guy posturing. But wrapped around all of that is a story about grief, aging, loyalty, and how unlikely partnerships can change the trajectory of a person’s life. Donner’s steady hand behind the camera, Shane Black’s razor-sharp script, and the powerhouse performances turn what could have been a forgettable cop thriller into something much more memorable. For anyone who enjoys action movies that care as much about the people pulling the triggers as the bullets they fire, Lethal Weapon stands out as a defining entry in the buddy-cop mold, powered by the messy, heartfelt dynamic at its center and the sure-footed craftsmanship that brings it all together.
The 2017 film, A Very Merry Toy Store, asks the age-old question: “Could any couple possibly be more adorable than Melissa Joan Hart and Mario Lopez?”
Melissa Joan Hart (Sabrina!) and Mario Lopez (Slater!) play rival toy store owners. (Their fathers once owned one big toy store but that didn’t work out.) Hart’s idealistic toy store is struggling. Lopez’s more commercial toy store is thriving. But they’re going to have to set aside their differences (and accept that they’re totally in love) because a big chain store is coming to town!
It’s a cute movie, one that works because the leads are so likable. (Brian Dennehy and Beth Broderick are both well-cast in supporting roles.) What can I say? I like this movie! Maybe I just always wanted to own a toy store.
(If I had a toy store, I would so a “Buy a Toy, Get A Free Book” promotion.)
“The real Santa was totally different. The Coca-Cola Santa is just a hoax.” — Pietari Kontio
Rare Exports: A Christmas Tale is a quirky Finnish film that turns the cheerful Santa story upside down, mixing horror, laughs, and holiday vibes in a bold way. Directed by Jalmari Helander in 2010, it builds on his earlier short films and unfolds in the bleak, snowy wilds of Lapland. Starting with a kid’s innocent curiosity, it dives into creature-filled madness, offering a fun alternative to typical Christmas movies. The film’s unique premise grabs you right away, promising something far removed from the sanitized holiday fare we’re all used to, and it delivers on that with a blend of folklore, tension, and unexpected twists that linger long after the credits roll.
The plot centers on young Pietari in a remote village where his dad and neighbors herd and slaughter reindeer for a living. An American-backed dig nearby uncovers something ancient and icy, sparking trouble like missing kids and odd thefts. Pietari reads from a book portraying Santa as a terrifying punisher rather than a gift-bringer, and soon the village captures a wild, elf-like creature to exploit, only to confront the bigger threat emerging from the frost. This setup masterfully builds suspense through everyday rural life clashing with supernatural intrusion, where the slow reveal of the mound’s secrets heightens the stakes. Pietari’s journey from wide-eyed boy to resourceful hero forms the emotional core, as he grapples with myths coming alive while the adults bumble through denial and desperation. The narrative weaves in economic pressures on the herders, adding a layer of realism to the fantastical elements, making the horror feel grounded in human struggle.
The movie’s mood captures that chilling isolation of deep winter, with vast snowscapes and biting winds making every sound feel ominous. Practical effects bring the skinny, feral beings—wild-eyed old men with fangs who move like beasts—to life in a raw, creepy style that avoids digital gloss for something viscerally unsettling. Pietari, played with earnest intensity by a young actor who nails the mix of fear and determination, anchors the emotion as he outsmarts the clueless grown-ups. It blends youthful adventure with sharp violence, from brutal bites and chases across frozen lakes to fiery clashes that punctuate the cold palette. Cinematography plays a huge role here, using long takes of barren landscapes to evoke vulnerability, while close-ups on the creatures’ grotesque features ramp up the dread without relying on jump scares. The film’s pacing ebbs and flows like a blizzard—calm buildup giving way to frantic bursts—keeping viewers on edge throughout its compact runtime.
Humor keeps things lighthearted, skewering Christmas clichés with glee, from red-suited abominations to the absurdity of weaponizing holiday icons against ancient evils. Burly locals stuffing their caught creature into a Santa outfit for a quick ransom scam leads to hilarious chaos, blending slapstick with dark undertones as plans unravel spectacularly. The short runtime flies by, blending Finnish authenticity—complete with subtitles that capture the dry wit—with brisk energy that never lets momentum sag. Deeper notes on faith, family bonds, and rural struggles hide under the fun, all tied to old pagan roots of the holiday myth, prompting thoughts on how modern traditions mask primal fears. These comedic beats provide relief without undercutting tension, creating a tonal tightrope walk that Helander navigates with confidence, much like his protagonists dodging fangs in the snow.
Still, it has rough edges holding it back from perfection. Some plot turns feel too convenient, like the hasty shift from fear to scheming among the villagers, which can pull you out of the immersion if you’re paying close attention. A few characters lack depth, especially the overconfident American outsider whose motivations come off as cartoonishly smug without much backstory to flesh them out. Women barely appear, relegated to minor roles or off-screen mentions, giving it an old-school, male-dominated feel that hasn’t aged as gracefully in modern viewing. The monsters, while initially shocking, grow predictable in their attacks after repeated encounters, diluting the novelty midway through. The wild finale, packed with explosive action and a cheeky resolution, might leave straight horror seekers cold—it’s more a playful genre mash-up than nonstop unrelenting terror, prioritizing fun over lingering nightmares.
The real locations sell the unforgiving outdoors, with Finland’s rugged terrain ramping up the ancient-evil vibe through authentic blizzards and icy caverns that no studio set could replicate. A clever soundtrack pairs eerie hums and dissonant strings with festive twinkles for ironic tension, underscoring scenes of quiet horror or frantic pursuits without overpowering the natural sounds of cracking ice and howling gales. Acting feels grounded across the board, with the dad character delivering tough warmth through gruff line delivery and physical comedy, while the ensemble of villagers comes across like real, weathered folks rather than polished performers. Helander expands his original shorts smartly, keeping the cheeky core intact while scaling up the stakes for feature-length thrills, showing a director comfortable with both intimate scares and big set pieces.
Beyond the surface-level scares and laughs, Rare Exports invites reflection on cultural myths and commercialization—how Santa’s image has been sanitized from something feral into a mall mascot, and what happens when the wild origins claw their way back. It’s a film that thrives on subverting expectations, starting as a kid’s adventure tale before morphing into a survival thriller with creature-feature flair. The practical makeup and prosthetics on the beasts deserve special mention for their handmade creepiness, evoking classic horror without the uncanny valley pitfalls of CGI. Editing keeps the energy taut, cutting between Pietari’s discoveries and the adults’ mishaps to build parallel dread.
As holiday counterprogramming, Rare Exports shines for fans of weird cult picks, great for group watches where reactions to the escalating weirdness become part of the fun. It holds up on repeats with hidden nods to its short-film origins, like recurring motifs and visual gags that reward eagle-eyed viewers. If you like folklore twists in films with adventure flair—think pseudo-documentaries hunting trolls or rural legends gone wrong—this delivers original entertainment despite its quirks. Ultimately, its charm lies in balancing the grotesque with the gleeful, crafting a Christmas tale that’s equal parts frightful and festive, proving that sometimes the best gifts come wrapped in fangs and fur.
As I scrolled through the “Recommended” movies on Tubi last night, I came across this one movie, CHRISTMAS CRASH, that intrigued me. It sounded sort of like a Hallmark movie, but it starred Michael Madsen, an actor I couldn’t possibly imagine in a Hallmark movie. Check out this description on Tubi…
“An unhappily married couple is presumed dead after their private plane crashes in the woods, but reconnects as their survival offers a second chance.”
All bad grammar aside, it was very late at night and I was looking for something that required zero functioning brain cells, and this seemed to fit the bill. Also, I had recently watched Madsen in the theatrical release of KILL BILL: THE WHOLE BLOODY AFFAIR, where he was so good, so I thought I’d check out his performance as the husband reconnecting with his wife, played here by Alexandra Paul (BAYWATCH).
After watching CHRISTMAS CRASH, all I can say is that I still can’t imagine Michael Madsen in anything that resembles a Hallmark movie. To say that he was “miscast as the beleaguered husband attempting to reconnect with his wife while attempting to survive the trek back to civilization after the plane crash” just may be my understatement of the year. There was nothing about his performance that seemed remotely realistic from the very beginning to the very end. Still, his uncomfortable line delivery, whether it be in a tense board meeting, out in the middle of the woods, or at a Christmas party at the end of the movie, is my favorite part of the movie. It was oddly enjoyable in a way that I can’t quite explain. Alexandra Paul does come off a little better as she proves to have some determined survival instincts, but this will not be on anyone’s list of career highlights.
CHRISTMAS CRASH has some pretty Canadian scenery as the married couple fly their plane over some beautiful mountains before crash landing in a beautiful, frigid lake. Luckily for them though, they’re able to swim to the shore, start a small, but obviously very warm, fire and somehow not succumb to hypothermia. And the weather, at least based on the news reports their terrified daughters are seeing on TV, is so terrible that search and rescue efforts have to be suspended. The problem is we never see any of this bad weather. What we’re shown looks fine! I laughed out loud when I saw that weather report coupled with beautiful sunshine! I will admit that I was worried about the big gash on Madsen’s lower leg after the accident, especially since it looked so dirty. But after the initial application of a homemade tourniquet, it wasn’t really mentioned any further. After about thirty minutes of screen time with no grody scenes of leg re-dressing, I quit worrying about it. And then there are the wolves that attempt to make a snack of our couple. I’ve seen THE GREY with Liam Neeson and I’ve been to Yellowstone, so I know that wolves are very dangerous. Let’s just say that the wolves of CHRISTMAS CRASH are too easily fended off with a medium-sized stick to ever feel too dangerous. There was this one moment where it appeared a wolf might have been biting on Madsen’s injured character for a moment, but after they run off, it’s never mentioned or shown that he was injured in any way, so I guess that wolf didn’t have any teeth.
My initial thoughts on at least a superficial connection between CHRISTMAS CRASH and the Hallmark channel did prove perceptive, as the movie is directed by Terry Ingram. A quick review of Mr. Ingram’s directorial credits on IMDB reveal an extensive connection to Hallmark, with generic titles such as HATS OFF TO CHRISTMAS, ‘TIS THE SEASON FOR LOVE, and THE MISTLETOE SECRET. Despite the director’s apparent love of the season and the fact this movie is titled CHRISTMAS CRASH, it sure doesn’t feel very Christmassy. With extremely limited changes, this movie could be set in any season, so don’t expect any feelings of genuine Yuletide spirit.
Overall, I’d say the best thing about CHRISTMAS CRASH is that it’s a 90 minute movie that has potential value in a “so bad it’s funny” kind of way. I think it would be fun to watch with friends, or as a “Live Movie Tweet” on social media. I watched the whole movie, had a few unintentional laughs, and when it was over around 1:00 in the morning, I went to bed none the worse for the wear.
Mrs. Claus (Mira Sorvino) has left the North Pole and is living it up in Las Vegas!
Now, don’t panic. The plot of 2012’s Finding Mrs. Claus does not involve the Kringles going to divorce court. Can you imagine how traumatic that would be? It would ruin Christmas for everyone and I have a feeling that Santa probably wouldn’t put much effort into his job afterwards. Or, even worse, the court might award the Workshop to Mrs. Claus and she might let her new boyfriend, Tony the Gigolo, take over the business. If that ever happens, I hope everyone’s okay with their chimneys smelling like Axe body spray on Christmas morning.
Fortunately, Mrs. Claus and Kris (Will Sasso) are still very much in love. It’s just that Mrs. Claus gets upset when she sees how exhausted Kris is at the end of the day. When she comes across a letter from a little girl in Las Vegas who wants her mom to find a new husband for Christmas, Mrs. Claus decides to give her husband a break and take care of it herself. With the help of Calvin the Elf (Geoff Gustafson), she loses his white wig and her old German clothes and she is transformed into …. well, Mira Sorvino. Mrs. Claus heads to Las Vegas, intent on spreading Christmas cheer.
Kris, when he wakes up, is not happy to discover that his wife is missing. Grabbing Calvin, he heads down to Vegas to find her. (He loses the beard on the way to America.) If Kris can’t find Mrs. Claus before Christmas, there’s going to be a lot of disappointed children in the world. While Mrs. Claus tried to find a husband for Noelle (Laura Vandervoort), Kris tries to find his wife.
And yes, as you probably already guessed as soon as I mentioned that this movie takes place in Las Vegas, there is an Elvis impersonator sight gag. It happens quickly but seriously, it’s a Lifetime Christmas film that’s set in Vegas. There has to be an Elvis impersonator somewhere!
What’s that? Do I hear you being cynical out there? Well, stop it! It’s a cute movie! It’s a holiday movie that features Mira Sorvino being glamorous as Mrs. Claus and Will Sasso being cheerfully clueless as Santa. Both Sorvino and Sasso really throw themselves into their roles and the fact that both of them are so well-intentioned but yet so naive about life outside of the North Pole actually make their story a rather sweet one. While Mrs. Claus understood the importance of blending in with Las Vegas, Santa never seemed to get why anyone would doubt him when he explained what he did for a living.
In the end, this is the type of silly, sentimental, and earnest film that works nicely during the holidays. The holiday season is a good time to be reminded that not everything has to be dark and depressing. Towards the end of the film, a character spots a shooting star and makes a wish and it’s hard not to feel that it’s a moment that the film has earned.
Bill Dancer (James Belushi), a homeless drifter and small-time con artist, and his 9 year old companion Curly Sue (Alisan Porter), survive by running somewhat harmless scams against rich people. While traveling through Chicago they target Grey Ellison (Kelly Lynch), a rich, career-focused divorce attorney, tricking her into thinking that she ran over Bill with her Mercedes. Normally the pair are just after a free meal and maybe a little cash, but Bill doesn’t have the heart to take too much from Grey since she’s so darn pretty. Through a variety of circumstances, she actually does run over Bill the next day. This time she brings him and Curly Sue up to her fancy apartment so he can recover, despite the objections from her snobby boyfriend Walker (John Getz). As the three get to know each other, Grey forms an especially close connection with Curly Sue, and learns that Bill isn’t her actual dad, even though he’s raised her since she was a baby. Knowing that Grey can give Curly Sue a better life than he can, Bill thinks about leaving. But can he ever leave the girl he sees as a daughter? And can Grey discover a compassion for others and the maternal instinct that she’s been missing?
As is often the case with movies I choose to write about, I had a sense of nostalgic warmth while watching CURLY SUE this morning for the first time in three decades. I saw CURLY SUE at the movie theater with my high school girlfriend in the fall of 1991. I remember enjoying the film and even buying it on VHS as a gift for my mom because I knew she would like it. In the years before she could record her Hallmark movies on her DVR, Mom watched that VHS tape many times.
Quite different from his classic teen comedies, CURLY SUE, which is the final film directed by John Hughes, can only be described as unapologetically sentimental. Sure the movie is formulaic and pure syrup, but I still enjoy it anyway. This heartwarming fairy tale will make you believe that an unconventional, loving family can emerge from the most unexpected of circumstances. It will suggest that there are some things more important than any amount of money can buy. It will make you laugh out loud at times, and yes, it will even bring a tear to your eye as some of the more emotional scenes play out. CURLY SUE wants to manipulate its audience’s emotions, and it will happen if you just go with it. On the down side, if you catch this film in the wrong kind of mood, or if you’re feeling especially cynical, that magic will disappear and you probably won’t enjoy the movie at all.
As for the performances, as a fan of James Belushi, I like him as the gruff but likable Bill. I also enjoy Kelly Lynch as the she evolves from a person married to her work to someone who starts to care deeply about the people around her. Probably the most important performance in the film comes from Alisan Porter as Curly Sue. If you don’t find her cute and adorable, then you’ll probably have a hard time watching the movie. I personally found her to be quite precious so that was not a problem for me. Once again, the movie version of early 90’s Chicago as our setting is something I enjoy as well.
Overall, CURLY SUE is not in the same league as Hughes’ best work like PLANES, TRAINS AND AUTOMOBILES, and there will be many who downright dislike the schmaltzy nature of the film. However, if you’re in a nostalgic mood for an earnest, early ‘90s heart-tugger, this movie might just hit the spot.
Porky’s is one of those movies that plays very differently depending on when you first see it. On the surface, it is a loud, lewd early‑’80s teen sex comedy about a bunch of high‑school boys in 1950s Florida trying to get laid and get even, but underneath the pranks and bare flesh there are streaks of surprisingly serious material about prejudice, masculinity, and power. That mix of dopey laughs and darker undercurrents is exactly what makes the film interesting to talk about, and also what makes it so divisive today.
Set in the 1950s and released in 1981, Porky’s follows a tight‑knit group of teenage boys whose main goals in life are sex, sports, and practical jokes. Their adventures eventually take them to Porky’s, a sleazy backwater strip club run by the hulking, corrupt Porky, who humiliates them and sets up the revenge plot that drives the back half of the film. Around that spine, the story wanders through locker‑room banter, elaborate pranks, and various attempts to sneak into the girls’ showers or otherwise spy on naked bodies. It is very much a “horny boys on the prowl” narrative, and the film never pretends to be anything else.
What keeps it from being just another disposable sex comedy is the way some of those side stories hit harder than expected. One of the kids is brutally abused by his father, and the film doesn’t treat it like a throwaway detail; those scenes have a rawness and anger that clash with the goofy tone elsewhere. There is also a thread about anti‑Semitism and racism in their community, with one character confronting his own bigoted upbringing as he befriends a Jewish classmate and pushes back against the prejudice around him. That material is handled in a pretty straightforward, earnest way, which is jarring given how crude the surrounding humor can be, but it does show that writer‑director Bob Clark had more on his mind than dirty jokes.
The humor, for better or worse, is what most people remember. Porky’s leans heavily on slapstick and sex‑obsessed gag setups: peeping through holes in shower walls, mistaken identities during sex, ridiculous anatomical bragging, prank phone calls, and elaborate schemes that escalate into full‑on chaos. Some of the set pieces are staged with real comic timing, and if you’re on its wavelength, these sequences can still land as big, cathartic laughs. Others feel juvenile in the worst way, stretching one joke way past its breaking point, or punching down at easy targets rather than punching up at the hypocritical adults the boys are constantly butting up against.
Viewed from today’s lens, a big chunk of that humor is undeniably uncomfortable. The movie is saturated with sexist, homophobic, and racist language, and a few of the “pranks” involving the girls are essentially sexual harassment played for laughs. At the time, it was sold as a gleefully politically incorrect romp; now, those same scenes read as mean‑spirited or creepy in a way that undercuts the supposed lighthearted tone. The film occasionally tries to complicate this by giving some of the female characters sharper edges or letting them turn the tables, but it never fully escapes the fact that the camera is mostly aligned with the boys and their fantasies.
That said, Porky’s is not entirely dismissive of its women. There are moments where adult women, in particular, are allowed to call out the boys’ behavior or assert their own sexuality in ways that undercut the usual “conquest” narrative. The movie also makes a point of ridiculing hypocritical authority figures—teachers, coaches, cops, and parents—whose prudish public morals don’t match their private behavior. When Porky’s is skewering bigotry, religious hypocrisy, and small‑town moral panics, it feels sharper and more progressive than its reputation as a dumb “tits‑and‑ass” comedy suggests. Those flashes of insight are part of why some viewers argue that, beneath the sleaze, the film is quietly critical of the very attitudes it seems to indulge.
Performance‑wise, the cast is made up largely of unknowns who sell the illusion that this is a real, scrappy group of friends rather than polished Hollywood teens. The camaraderie feels genuine; their constant ribbing, in‑jokes, and shifting alliances are believable enough that you can see why the movie became a touchstone for a certain generation of viewers. Bob Clark’s direction is surprisingly controlled for such an anarchic script. He keeps the story moving, balances multiple subplots, and stages the bigger comic payoffs in a way that feels almost like a live‑action cartoon. The downside is that this slickness can make the nastier gags pop more, for better and worse.
On a technical level, Porky’s is very much a product of its time, but not a cheap one. The period detail—cars, music, clothing, diners, and dingy roadside bars—helps sell the 1950s setting, giving the film a nostalgic sheen that softens some of its rougher edges. The soundtrack leans on era‑appropriate rock and roll, which adds energy to the locker‑room and party scenes. The film also doesn’t shy away from male nudity, which was less common in comedies of the time and adds to its reputation as equal‑opportunity when it comes to what it exposes, even if the gaze is still clearly tilted toward ogling women.
Where Porky’s can stumble is in tone. The shifts between broad farce and serious drama can be abrupt. One minute you are watching a drawn‑out gag about a teacher trying to identify a student by his anatomy; the next, you are plunged into a grim confrontation with an abusive parent. That whiplash can pull you out of the movie, because the emotional weight of the dramatic scenes doesn’t always get enough breathing room before the script lurches back to naughty antics. As a result, some viewers feel the darker elements trivialize real issues, while others think those same scenes give the film more substance than its imitators.
Even if someone has never seen Porky’s, they have probably felt its influence. The film was a massive box‑office hit relative to its budget and paved the way for a wave of raunchy teen comedies through the ’80s and ’90s, eventually echoing into movies like American Pie and beyond. Its success made it clear that there was a huge audience for R‑rated, adolescent sex comedies that mixed crude jokes with a veneer of coming‑of‑age sentiment. You can see its blueprint in later films: packs of horny friends, elaborate revenge schemes, school authority figures as comic foils, and a big, raucous set piece as the payoff.
Whether Porky’s “holds up” is going to depend a lot on your tolerance for outdated attitudes and offensive language. If you go in expecting a cozy nostalgia trip, you may be surprised by how sour some jokes taste now, and how casually the film treats behavior that would be framed very differently in a modern story. If you approach it as both a time capsule and the prototype of a genre, it becomes easier to see its strengths—the lively ensemble, the willingness to poke at racism and hypocrisy, the low‑budget ingenuity in its set pieces—alongside its very real flaws.
Porky’s is neither the hidden gem some defenders make it out to be nor the irredeemable trash its harshest critics describe. It is a messy, uneven, often funny, often cringeworthy movie that captures a particular moment in pop culture, both in what it laughs at and what it takes for granted. If you are curious about the roots of modern raunchy teen comedies and prepared for the rough, politically incorrect ride, it is still worth a look as a piece of film history and as an example of how comedy ages—for better and for worse.
On Christmas Eve, a miserly businessman is visited by a series of ghosts who help him understand the true meaning of Christmas, along with showing him a frightening vision of a possible future.
And that businessman was named …. Benedict Slade!
Yeah, the name’s have been changed and the action has been updated to Depression-era New England but this is basically the story of Scrooge. Henry Winkler stars as the Scrooge character in the 1979 made-for-TV movie. His old age make-up was done by none other than Rick Baker!
Through the Shattered Lens 