Hate Watching with Dan and Tony

• Hate Watching The Pickup: A Monkey, A Ring, and Zero Stakes

  Send us a textThe trailer had us hopeful; the movie had us baffled. We dive into The Pickup and pull apart why a slick heist premise, a stacked cast, and a veteran director still yield a comedy-thriller with no real stakes and a whole lot of shrugs. From the opening bank “meet-cute” with a drawn gun that triggers zero fallout to an armored-truck chase that looks slow because it’s shot too wide and scored too flat, we track how craft choices drain momentum and mute laughs. Eddie Murphy sets up a character with a clear goal, Pete Davidson aims for endearing idiot energy, and Kiki Palmer arrives with a revenge motive that should add pathos—yet none of it bonds into chemistry or tension.We spend time on the filmmaking: why long lenses and tighter coverage sell speed; how music should escalate emotion; and what happens when geography, cause, and effect get fuzzy. We also examine character math. Playing “dumb” requires sharp intention, but Travis quips from the sidelines while the script swears his math brain matters. Russell’s anniversary ticking clock evaporates the moment it’s convenient. A hostage check-in rule is established then never used. When consequences vanish, audience investment goes with them. Still, there are bright spots: a brutally funny run-over gag, a perfectly human “that went terribly” phone bit, Eva Longoria’s decisive car moment, and Marshawn Lynch trying to manufacture laughs out of thin air.The heist logic gets our full audit too: RFID hand-waving, casino cash tracking, schedules, and how laundering would actually work. We talk pancakes, butt jokes, and why romance beats fall flat when performance doesn’t carry the feeling. If you love action-comedy with punch and pace, this breakdown shows why The Pickup doesn’t deliver—and what would’ve fixed it. Stick around to hear what we’re watching next as we tee up a revisit of The Truman Show.Enjoyed the episode? Follow, rate, and share with a friend who loves a good takedown. Got a spiciest plot hole or favorite bad line from The Pickup? Drop it in a review and tag us so we can feature your take.Be our friend!Dan: @shakybaconTony: @tonydczechAnd follow the podcast on IG: @hatewatchingDAT

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• Hate Watching Timeline: Dumb, Fun, Semi-History

  Send us a textA time machine that behaves like a fax, a grenade that hops centuries, and an ear that turns into destiny—this conversation goes deep on why Timeline is both ridiculous and ridiculously enjoyable. We break down the movie’s soft science with a smile, from wormholes that sometimes sync to the minute to medallions that only work when the plot says so. Then we zoom in on what actually sells the ride: Gerard Butler’s early-era charisma, Anna Friel’s spark as Claire, and Michael Sheen chewing the castle tapestries with villainous delight.We also get practical about medieval mayhem. The siege stretches bring real texture—trebuchets thudding, moats igniting, “night arrows” cutting the dark—and Greek fire delivers a rare Chekhov’s payoff that feels satisfyingly tactile. Does the movie look like TV sometimes? Sure. Do the costumes read like Ren fair fresh? Absolutely. But when a sword drops in front of a hiding hero, or a tunnel cracks open behind a monastery wall, the film finds momentum that feels genuinely cinematic. Along the way, we test the internal logic, laugh at the paradoxes, and admit the obvious: fun can trump coherence when performances and set-pieces click.Our side quests matter too. We weigh nostalgia’s sway with a Goonies, Lost Boys, and Monster Squad detour, argue about changing history versus curating legend, and even share Thanksgiving stuffing tips because timing is everything. The finale’s sarcophagus epilogue reframes the whole story as myth-making, and that’s where we land: if legend is the point, strict causality can step aside. Hit play to hear us debate, cackle, and celebrate the small victories that make sloppy sci-fi sing. If you enjoy the show, leave a comment, give us a thumbs up, or subscribe—then tell us your favorite “good bad” movie.Written lovingly by AIBe our friend!Dan: @shakybaconTony: @tonydczechAnd follow the podcast on IG: @hatewatchingDAT

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• Hate Watching Land of the Lost: Big Brain T-Rex, Tiny Plot

  Send us a textDinosaurs, portals, and a chorus line of pterodactyls should be a slam dunk. We dove into Land of the Lost to figure out why a movie with so many toys keeps losing the game—and how a few smart changes could have turned chaos into comedy that sticks. We start with the core misfire: Will Ferrell is asked to play a straight-man scientist and a clueless clown at the same time, which erases any clean arc and drains the stakes from every set piece. Absurd can be brilliant when the rules are tight; here, the rules shift whenever a gag needs help. One scene uses a waterfall as a portal, another opens a door in midair, and the “land of lost things” includes stuff that was never lost. Without consistent logic, action stops dead so jokes can breathe, and then the jokes run out of air.There are bright spots. Danny McBride keeps landing sly, character-driven lines because his POV is clear: selfish bluster that occasionally flips into loyal friend. The sleestaks’ intentionally rubbery vibe nods to the original show in a way we liked, and a handful of bits nearly work: the “big brain” T‑Rex who understands insults, the nitrogen catapult that wants to homage Jaws, and the fake-sleep dodge before a dangerous egg run. The problem is follow-through. Setups don’t pay off, tension stalls for monologues, and the movie undercuts its own best ideas. Imagine a version where Ferrell’s scientist maps portal patterns to get home, the T‑Rex feud resolves with a comedic apology instead of a digestive punchline, and Holly’s language skill consistently solves crystal puzzles rather than a lucky belt-reflection trick.We don’t just roast; we rebuild. Give the world three simple rules, lock each character’s goal, and let the bits escalate instead of pause. The result is a fun, rule-bound playground where McBride’s chaos sharpens Ferrell’s growth and the creature gags actually matter. If you’re into comedy craft, story structure, and the joy of almost-great ideas, you’ll have a blast with this one. Hit play, then tell us your favorite broken setup—and how you’d fix it. And if you’re new here, subscribe, drop a review, and share this with a friend who loves a good movie autopsy.Written lovingly by AIBe our friend!Dan: @shakybaconTony: @tonydczechAnd follow the podcast on IG: @hatewatchingDAT

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• Hate Watching Little Evil: Little Evil, Big Opinions

  Send us a textWhat happens when a sharp horror-comedy premise gets tripped up by soggy jokes and TV-flat reactions? We dig into Little Evil with a filmmaker’s eye and a comic’s ear, mapping the moments that could have soared if the setups, POV, and character logic actually aligned. From the tornado wedding and the defensive videographer to the CPS visit with Sally Field and the clown-on-fire gag, we point to where the movie almost clicks—and how a few simple escalations could have turned “heh” into real laughs.We talk casting and cadence—why Adam Scott feels stuck between unaffected snark and sincere guardian, and why Evangeline Lilly’s character needs true naivete or sharper subversion to sell the cult backstory. We break down the stepdad circle, the missing runners, and the squandered improv energy, highlighting the rare lines that do land because they come from a clear scene location and status game. Then we tackle the water park turn: why comedy needs agency over skywriting, how competing “signs” would heighten indecision into a great gag, and why the story works best once the promise to protect the kid becomes the emotional north star.The finale shows the movie that could have been: a tighter cult showdown, a sincere bond, and a couple of truly funny beats when everyone finally knows where they are in the scene. Along the way, we offer craft fixes—repetition, heightening, physical business that breathes, and jokes that emerge from character instead of references. We wrap with quick recs: the baffling IT prequel pilot, dirt-under-the-nails seventies thriller When a Stranger Calls, and the confidently directed Weapons. Hit play, debate with us, and tell us your rewrite for the water park scene. If you had one change to make Little Evil sing, what would it be? Subscribe, drop a comment, and share your best punch-up.Written Lovingly by AIBe our friend!Dan: @shakybaconTony: @tonydczechAnd follow the podcast on IG: @hatewatchingDAT

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• Hate Watching Werewolves: Don't Forget Your Moonscreen

  Send us a textA supermoon turns the world wild, Frank Grillo grabs a shotgun, and we grab our notes. We break down Werewolves with the kind of scene-by-scene nitpicks and love for schlock that only come from watching too many creature features at 2 a.m. The premise is killer—moonlight triggers global transformations—but the movie keeps stepping on its own paws with lens-flare-heavy cinematography, shaky rules, and a finale that forgets what it promised. So we do what we do best: call out the misses, celebrate the moments that rip, and map the small rewrites that would turn this into a cult favorite.We start with the visuals: anamorphic flares, exploding bulbs, and Steadicam sweeps that look expensive but rarely build dread. From there, we tackle the lore. What actually kills these wolves? How long does “moonscreen” last? Why does a pack stage a clever trap in one scene, then forget to smell a human under a car the next? Clean rules make scary movies scarier. We even offer a fix for the ending: plant one hesitation beat earlier—have a turned husband falter at his wife’s voice—so the final showdown feels earned instead of random.It’s not all gripes. We shout out the birdbath eye-rinse gag, the alley car-charge, and a soft-focus kitchen reveal that delivers honest chills. We also dig into transformations and why practical effects matter in werewolf cinema, offer a better ammo plan for the beleaguered mom, and unpack how a “dominate the pack” idea could have reshaped the third act. If you love creature features, script logic, or just want to laugh at a billion-wolf apocalypse set in a Florida that isn’t, you’re home.Hit play, then tell us your favorite werewolf movie and the one rule it nails. If you’re new, subscribe for weekly horror rants, rewrites, and the occasional Superman heresy. If you’re a regular, drop a review—it helps other monster nerds find us.Written Lovingly by AIBe our friend!Dan: @shakybaconTony: @tonydczechAnd follow the podcast on IG: @hatewatchingDAT

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