Hate Watching Spaceman: Houston, We Have a Metaphor!
Send us a textAn astronaut floating alone six months into a year-long mission. A mysterious alien spider that appears out of nowhere. A marriage crumbling across the vast emptiness of space. Netflix's "Spaceman" promised profound cosmic revelations but delivered a beautiful yet frustratingly hollow meditation on human connection.Adam Sandler stars as Jakob, a Czech astronaut studying a mysterious cloud near Jupiter while his pregnant wife Lenka (Carey Mulligan) contemplates leaving him back on Earth. When a giant talking spider named Hanuš (voiced by Paul Dano) materializes on his spacecraft, Jakob embarks on a psychological journey through memories and regrets rather than the stars. The film tantalizes with visual splendor – the zero-gravity sequences alone showcase remarkable technical achievement – but ultimately fails to answer its own existential questions.What makes "Spaceman" so frustrating is how close it comes to profundity. Adapted from Jaroslav Kalfař's novel "Spaceman of Bohemia," the film strips away crucial context that would have heightened the stakes. In the book, Jakob's mission is explicitly suicidal, a redemptive sacrifice to restore his family's honor after his father's disgrace as a government informant. Without this framework, Jakob's journey feels aimless, his relationship problems trivial compared to the cosmic scale of his surroundings.The film's greatest strength lies in its willingness to embrace ambiguity – is the spider real or a manifestation of Jakob's lonely mind? Does the mysterious cloud contain universal wisdom or merely reflect our own projections? Yet this same ambiguity becomes its downfall when extended to character motivations and narrative purpose. By the time Jakob reaches his emotional epiphany, we've spent too little time understanding who he was before to appreciate who he's become.Have you ever felt disconnected from someone you love despite being physically close? How would that feeling magnify across millions of miles of empty space? Watch "Spaceman" for its visual poetry and committed performances, but prepare for an emotional journey that, like its protagonist, never quite reaches its destination.Written Lovingly with AIBe our friend!Dan: @shakybaconTony: @tonydczechAnd follow the podcast on IG: @hatewatchingDAT
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1:26:36
Hate Watching Cleaner: Squeegee of Death
Send us a textWhen Joey, a seemingly ordinary window cleaner played by Daisy Ridley, reports for her night shift at a towering London skyscraper, she has no idea she's about to be thrust into a deadly game of survival. As she dangles precariously outside the building's glass exterior, a sophisticated group of eco-terrorists infiltrates a corporate gala inside, taking hostages and making demands that blur the line between justice and vengeance.Cut off from help and with only her wits and climbing skills to rely on, Joey becomes the unexpected wild card in a high-stakes confrontation that grows more morally complex by the minute. The terrorists, led by a charismatic activist played briefly by Clive Owen, aren't just seeking ransom – they're exposing horrific environmental crimes committed by the very executives now held hostage. As corporate secrets bubble to the surface, Joey must decide whether she's fighting to save the innocent or protecting the guilty."Cleaner" delivers heart-pounding vertical action sequences while forcing viewers to question their own moral compasses. When the terrorists reveal that the corporation has silenced whistleblowers through murder, the traditional lines between hero and villain begin to dissolve. Joey's struggle isn't just about physical survival – it's about navigating an ethical minefield where doing the right thing becomes increasingly unclear.The film challenges conventional action thriller formulas by presenting antagonists with legitimate grievances and protagonists with questionable motives. As Joey fights to protect her vulnerable brother caught in the chaos, she must also confront uncomfortable truths about the powerful people she's trying to save. In a world where corporate crimes often go unpunished, "Cleaner" asks: Who are the real terrorists, and what price are we willing to pay for justice?Written Lovingly by AIBe our friend!Dan: @shakybaconTony: @tonydczechAnd follow the podcast on IG: @hatewatchingDAT
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1:41:58
Hate Watching No Holds Barred: Bad Guys, Body Slams, and Bathroom Humor
Send us a textDan is out sick so we go back into the vaults to release one of our favorite episodes! Enjoy!Professional wrestling blurs the lines between reality and entertainment, but 1989's "No Holds Barred" obliterates them completely. We journey into the bizarre world of Hulk Hogan's first starring film role and discover a movie that doesn't just feature wrestling—it creates an entire universe where wrestling is the world.The premise seems straightforward: Hulk plays Rip, a wrestling superstar pursued by unscrupulous network executive Brill (Kurt Fuller) who creates his own violent wrestling program featuring the monstrous Zeus (Tiny Lister) after Rip rejects his blank check offer. But what unfolds is a baffling cinematic experience where normal societal rules don't apply, character motivations make no sense, and the primary trait identifying villains is their mistreatment of women.We analyze the strange production choices throughout—from awkward ADR and slow fight choreography to confusing scene transitions and inexplicable character decisions. Yet amidst the chaos, certain moments achieve an accidental brilliance, like the infamous bathroom scene featuring a chained dog that provides one of the film's few genuine laughs. The movie culminates with Hulk essentially murdering two people on live television to audience applause, cementing our view that Rip might actually be the villain of his own story.What makes "No Holds Barred" particularly fascinating is its behind-the-scenes story. Vince McMahon and Hulk Hogan themselves reportedly rewrote the entire script over a brief period, explaining why Brill seems modeled after McMahon's own public persona. The result is a film that serves as both a bizarre cultural artifact and a cautionary tale about wrestling's difficult transition to conventional narrative filmmaking.Whether you're a wrestling fan curious about this strange chapter in Hulkamania history or a bad movie enthusiast looking for your next bewildering watch, join us as we bodyslam this cinematic oddity and somehow find genuine entertainment in its spectacular failure.Written Lovingly with AIBe our friend!Dan: @shakybaconTony: @tonydczechAnd follow the podcast on IG: @hatewatchingDAT
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1:29:00
Hate Watching The Gorge: Plant People Beware!
Send us a textIn the fog-shrouded valley where two superpowers meet, a deeply human story unfolds against the backdrop of Cold War tensions and ancient mysteries. The Gorge brilliantly pairs Miles Teller and Anya Taylor-Joy as elite snipers stationed on opposite sides of a mysterious chasm, creating one of the most unique and compelling on-screen relationships of recent cinema.What begins as strict isolation—American and Soviet guards forbidden from contact—evolves through ingenious long-distance communication. Giant notepads, makeshift signals, and music played across the divide become the foundation of a connection that defies their orders and national identities. The chemistry between the leads is palpable even when separated by hundreds of feet of empty space, making their eventual face-to-face meeting (via a dangerous homemade zip line) all the more powerful.The film's first half excels at building both the mystery of what lurks in the foggy depths below and the tender romance developing above. Small gestures carry enormous weight—a toast across the gorge, a game of chess played at impossible distance, poetry shared in fragments. These moments of genuine human connection stand in stark contrast to the occasional monster attacks that remind us of the ever-present danger.Where The Gorge stumbles is in its third act, when our protagonists find themselves trapped in the depths they've been guarding. The revelation of what caused the gorge and its inhabitants—a joint Soviet-American research facility gone catastrophically wrong—feels rushed and underwhelming compared to the cosmic horror teased earlier. The "hollow men" monsters, while effectively creepy in glimpses, lose impact when fully revealed.Despite these shortcomings, the film remains compelling thanks to its central relationship and the performances that bring it to life. Teller brings depth to his tortured sniper, haunted by his past kills, while Taylor-Joy imbues her character with both steely resolve and vulnerability. Their journey from isolated guards to partners willing to risk everything resonates emotionally even when the plot mechanics falter.The Gorge ultimately asks what connections matter most—duty to country, scientific discovery, or the rare human bond that transcends boundaries. For anyone who appreciates character-driven stories with elements of horror, romance, and Cold War tension, this haunting tale of what lurks both within the mist and within ourselves offers a uniquely satisfying experience.Written lovingly by AIBe our friend!Dan: @shakybaconTony: @tonydczechAnd follow the podcast on IG: @hatewatchingDAT
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1:19:19
Hate Watching Prince of Persia The Sands of Time: A Video Game Adaptation That Almost Worked
Send us a textWhat happens when a big-budget blockbuster has all the right ingredients but still fails to fully satisfy? That's the puzzle at the heart of our deep dive into 2010's Prince of Persia: Sands of Time, a film that cost hundreds of millions to make but couldn't capture the magic of its video game source material.The conversation kicks off with an examination of Jake Gyllenhaal's bewildering accent and lack of charisma as the titular prince – a critical misstep that creates a void at the center of this action-adventure. "It's the worst accent of any leading man in a movie," we conclude, comparing his performance unfavorably to the natural charm of Brendan Fraser in The Mummy or the cast of Pirates of the Caribbean.The film's salvation arrives about 40 minutes in with Alfred Molina's scene-stealing performance as a tax-evading ostrich racer. His character breathes life into a previously lifeless movie, demonstrating exactly what was missing from the start: humor, heart, and genuine entertainment value. We discuss how supporting characters often make or break these big adventure films, and how Prince of Persia failed to understand this crucial dynamic.We also break down the disappointing direction choices that plague the action sequences – the choppy editing and shaky camerawork that obscure rather than showcase the parkour stunts that made the video games so special. For a franchise known for fluid movement and graceful acrobatics, the film's inability to properly capture these elements represents a fundamental misunderstanding of its appeal.Join us for this entertaining analysis of blockbuster filmmaking gone awry, and why some adventure films become beloved classics while others remain forgotten curiosities. And don't forget to tune in next week for our take on "The Gorge" starring Miles Teller and Anya Taylor-Joy!Written lovingly by AIBe our friend!Dan: @shakybaconTony: @tonydczechAnd follow the podcast on IG: @hatewatchingDAT
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