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Game Over Before It Began? This week on From Console to Screen , Butler and we tag back in with our good friend and video game movie aficionado Russ Lyman to tackle one of the most infamous adaptations ever to karate-chop its way onto the big screen: Street Fighter: The Movie . Yes, the one where Jean-Claude Van Damme plays the all-American Colonel Guile (accent and all), Kylie Minogue shows up as Cammy for reasons no one fully understands, and the late, great Raúl Juliá delivers a performance as M. Bison so committed it elevates the entire film — even as everything around him falls apart. Our Street Fighter Discussion So… surely this movie is good, right? RIGHT?! Well, let’s just say our discussion was about as chaotic as the plot itself. We dig into: The wild tonal swings that make you wonder if you’re watching an action film, a Saturday morning cartoon, or an unintentional comedy. Raúl Juliá’s genuinely scene-stealing performance, which somehow makes Bison both terrifying and campy in the best possible way. Jean-Claude Van Damme’s… creative approach to playing an American hero. The challenge of turning a fighting game with almost no story into a globe-trotting military adventure — complete with stealth boats, hostage negotiations, and a whole lot of spandex. We also ask the big questions: Is this a movie you can actually enjoy unironically? Was there any hope of making Street Fighter  work as a film in 1994? And why does it feel like everyone involved was in a completely different movie? Whether you have nostalgia for this gloriously messy adaptation or you’re just curious how a movie with this cast ended up as the punchline of so many ‘90s jokes, this is the episode for you. Watch or listen to the latest From Console to Screen  wherever you get your podcasts—and be sure to thank Raúl Juliá for giving us one of the greatest villain performances in video game movie history. For him… it was Tuesday. Listen on your favorite podcast platform! Spotify  | Apple Podcasts  | Amazon Music  | More Links

This week on  Forgotten Cinema , we strap on our ill-fitting security uniforms and take a second look at  Armed and Dangerous , the 1986 action-comedy starring the always-likable  John Candy  and a pre- Schitt’s Creek   Eugene Levy . And on paper? This movie should work. It’s got comedy legends, a buddy-cop setup, and an ‘80s plot line involving corrupt unions, armored trucks, and plenty of room for physical gags and genre send-ups. But instead of firing on all cylinders,  Armed and Dangerous  mostly misfires. Now, to be fair, Butler came in with a healthy dose of nostalgia — having caught this one on cable more than a few times as a teenager — and still finds some enjoyment in Candy’s charm and the weirdly endearing energy between him and Levy. Field wasn’t quite as generous, believing there’s something about this movie that feels like it’s trying to be funnier than it actually is. We break down where the film goes off the rails: the uneven tone, the lack of character development, and a script that leans on slapstick when it could’ve gone for sharper satire. We also dive into the film’s  very  rocky behind-the-scenes history, including its original creative team and how  Harold Ramis, who co-wrote the script, basically disowned the final product. It’s a movie that wants to be  Stripes  meets  Beverly Hills Cop , but ends up somewhere closer to a forgotten Sunday afternoon cable rerun. That said, there  are  flashes of fun, mostly thanks to Candy and Levy doing what they can with what they’ve got. So is  Armed and Dangerous  worth revisiting? Maybe. Especially if you’re in the mood for a weird slice of '80s comedy that  almost  works. Just don’t expect it to be locked and loaded with laughs. Listen now wherever you get your podcasts, or catch the episode on YouTube. And remember: sometimes nostalgia can disarm even the most critical viewer. Just not always. Spotify  | Apple Podcasts  | Amazon Music  | More Links

Season 21, Episode 7 We're taking a ride into the high-stakes world of kidnappings, moral dilemmas, and early internet wire transfers with Ron Howard’s Ransom  (1996) — a film that asks one big question: What would you do if someone took your child? Mel Gibson stars as Tom Mullen, a wealthy airline owner whose son is kidnapped, triggering a manhunt and a media circus. But instead of quietly paying the ransom, Mullen pulls a gutsy move — he flips the script, goes on TV, and offers the ransom money as a bounty on the kidnappers’ heads. Bold? Absolutely. Heroic? Maybe. Smart? Well… that’s where the debate starts. Ransom Builds That Tension We both agree: Ransom  knows how to build tension. The pacing is tight, the performances are sharp — particularly from Gary Sinise, who brings real menace to the role of crooked cop turned kidnapper — and Howard’s direction keeps everything grounded, even when the plot throws a few questionable curveballs. Where we split is on Gibson’s Mullen. Is he a desperate father pushed to the edge, or a reckless egomaniac escalating a situation he clearly doesn’t control? We dig into the moral ambiguity and the psychological toll of the entire situation. At the end of the day, Ransom  is peak '90s thriller: morally gray, tightly wound, and just a bit over the top. And we’re here for every tense, sweaty, ethically messy second of it. Check out our episode on YouTube! Or find us on your favorite podcast portal Spotify  | Apple Podcasts  | Amazon Music  | More Links

Before we were dodging bullets in The Matrix  or lining up for The Phantom Menace , there was another 1999 film playing in the multiplexes, quietly asking: What if the world around you isn’t real? This week on Forgotten Cinema , we jack into The Thirteenth Floor — a stylish sci-fi noir that delivers trench coats, existential dread, and a healthy dose of CRT monitor aesthetics. Directed by Josef Rusnak and based on the novel Simulacron-3 , the film plays with simulation theory and digital consciousness in ways that, frankly, deserve more credit than they’ve gotten. But here’s the problem: it released at exactly the wrong time. Coming out just a few weeks after The Matrix  and getting swallowed whole by the hype machine that was The Phantom Menace , The Thirteenth Floor  barely stood a chance. But that doesn't mean it's without value. We talk about its strengths — like Vincent D’Onofrio's layered, fascinating performance and its strong noir undertones that make it feel like Blade Runner  by way of L.A. Confidential  (if that makes sense, and even if it doesn’t, we say it anyway). Of course, we also dig into where it all starts to come apart. For all its heady ideas, The Thirteenth Floor  stumbles in its second and third acts, relying more on exposition dumps than dramatic tension, and missing some of the urgency you'd want from a high-concept thriller. Still, we ask the question: was it really that this movie wasn’t good enough… or just that it was released too late? So join us as we rewind to the tail-end of the '90s tech paranoia boom and rediscover a forgotten flick that had big questions, bold ideas, and a pretty impressive user interface for 1999. Listen now on your favorite podcast app, or watch the episode on YouTube. Trust us—this isn’t a simulation… probably. Spotify  | Apple Podcasts  | Amazon Music  | More Links

Lara Croft: Tomb Raider (2001) | Polygon to Powerhouse The early 2000s were a strange and glorious time. Nu-metal on the radio, sunglasses indoors, and a firm belief that video game movies could totally work… if you just cast the right action star. Enter Lara Croft: Tomb Raider (2001) , starring none other than Angelina Jolie. In this latest episode of From Console to Screen , we team back up with our resident video game movie enthusiast, Russ Lyman , to explore this globe-trotting, artifact-chasing, slow-motion-filled adaptation of one of gaming’s most iconic characters. Let’s get this out of the way: Is Tomb Raider  a good  movie? That’s debatable. Is it a fascinating time capsule of post- Matrix , pre- MCU  action cinema trying really hard  to be cool? Absolutely. We talk all about: Angelina Jolie’s surprisingly committed performance (and that  accent). Whether the film captures the spirit of the original Tomb Raider  games or just the aesthetic. The weirdly stacked supporting cast, including Daniel Craig ( with an American accent ), Iain Glen, and even Jon Voight. The action sequences that feel lifted straight from a cutscene and not in a good way. More importantly, we ask: What is  it about video game movies from this era that made them feel so… off? There’s money on the screen, star power in the frame, and yet somehow, we’re still left with an experience that feels less like an adventure and more like we hit “skip cutscene” on the plot. So, does Lara Croft: Tomb Raider  succeed where other game-to-screen adaptations fail? Or is it just another artifact better left buried in the early 2000s? Jump into the episode and find out. Available now on YouTube! Listen on your favorite podcast platform! Spotify  | Apple Podcasts  | Amazon Music  | More Links

Mortal Kombat: Annihilation (1997) – A Fatality for Film? Some fights are destined to be revisited — and some movies test your very will to survive. Welcome to From Console to Screen , a new limited series where we dive fist-first into the world of video game movie adaptations. And who better to help us kick things off than our good friend and retro gaming YouTuber, Russ Lyman ? Years ago, Russ joined us to talk about the 1995 Mortal Kombat  film. That episode? A blast. Butler and Russ had a good time. Even Field could appreciate the campy charm and Christopher Lambert’s smug Raiden smirk. But this time? This time was different. This time… it was Mortal Kombat: Annihilation . This 1997 sequel trades what little logic the original had for chaotic editing, rushed effects, and more costume changes than a Vegas stage show. We’re talking cardboard sets, stiff performances, and a plot that barrels forward like a malfunctioning treadmill — fast, confusing, and guaranteed to hurt you. But it’s not all pain. In fact, we manage to have a lot  of fun breaking down this disasterpiece. Is there anything salvageable in the sequel to one of the most iconic video game films of the '90s? Is Shao Kahn’s absurd helmet compensating for the script? And more importantly: is this movie so bad it’s actually fun? We also get into: The game-to-screen accuracy (spoiler: not much). Character recasting chaos (RIP original Johnny Cage). The best unintentionally hilarious moments. Why the original Mortal Kombat  suddenly feels like The Godfather  by comparison. If you’re a fan of video games, cheesy action flicks, or just want to hear three people slowly unravel in the face of cinematic kombat, this episode is for you. Listen now on your favorite podcast platform or watch the episode on YouTube. And stay tuned — this is only the beginning of From Console to Screen . We've got more pixel-powered film breakdowns coming soon! Listen on your favorite podcast platform! Spotify  | Apple Podcasts  | Amazon Music  | More Links

Season 21, Episode 4 We’re headed back to the grimy streets of mid-90s New York this week, but instead of a tight crime drama, we’ve got ourselves a curious cinematic time capsule that doesn’t quite know what to do with itself. Kiss of Death (1995) , directed by Barbet Schroeder, stars David Caruso fresh off his NYPD Blue heat, Samuel L. Jackson doing what he does best, and Nicolas Cage bringing… well, a lot . Like, bench-pressing-in-a-jail-cell-with-a-metal-grill  levels of a lot. So why doesn’t this movie work? We try to piece together how a film with this cast and this much gritty atmosphere could still fall flat. Is the problem Caruso’s Jimmy Kilmartin, a protagonist who never really drives the story? Is the film more interested in creating mood than in tightening its plot? Or maybe it’s just that Kiss of Death  feels like it’s caught between a prestige crime flick and a B-movie bruiser — and doesn’t quite commit to either. That’s not to say there’s nothing to enjoy here. Far from it. Cage, as the unpredictable and juiced-up Little Junior Brown, practically lifts the film on his back (and that’s not just because he’s benching erotic dancers). He’s unhinged in the most specific and calculated ways, and if you’re into watching Cage tap into early shades of Face/Off  madness, this is worth a look. We also talk about Caruso’s leap from television to film, the what-could-have-been  of his movie career, and Ving Rhames’ brief but memorable role that includes an oddly intense hatred of the color red. Yes, really. In the end, Kiss of Death  may be more interesting as a snapshot of where mid-90s Hollywood thought crime thrillers were headed than as a fully satisfying film. But it’s exactly the kind of movie we love to revisit—ambitious, flawed, and filled with performances that make you go, “Wait, is that…?” Check out the episode wherever you get your podcasts, or watch it on YouTube. And if you haven’t seen Kiss of Death , it might be worth dusting off the VHS—or at least pulling it up on streaming—to see one of Cage’s more underrated performances and witness Caruso’s brief, shining moment on the big screen. Spotify  | Apple Podcasts  | Amazon Music  | More Links

Before checking out the brand new Road House  remake with Jake Gyllenhaal, we at Forgotten Cinema  decided to revisit the original 1989 cult classic that turned bar fights into an art form: Road House . As part of our Lead Up Series , we dove headfirst into the neon-soaked, roundhouse-kicking madness of this beloved 80s action flick. Because let’s be honest: there’s something endlessly watchable about a movie where philosophy quotes and barroom brawls coexist in perfect harmony. In this episode, we discuss: Patrick Swayze’s zen warrior performance as Dalton Sam Elliott’s effortlessly cool mentorship as Wade Garrett The wild blend of romance, music, and mayhem The 80s vibe that makes Road House  an eternal guilty pleasure We also look at how the original film’s chaotic energy and one-liners still resonate today, and why it remains such an unexpected cult classic. And don’t miss our Now Showing  episode where we break down the new Road House  remake —comparing it to the original, sharing our thoughts, and deciding if it holds up in today’s barroom-brawl-filled world. Explore More Lead Up Episodes: From Ghostbusters  to Planet of the Apes , check out our Lead Up Series playlist on YouTube for even more cinematic nostalgia and retrospective deep dives. Drop us a comment: What’s your favorite Road House  moment—Dalton’s cool quotes, the epic bar brawls, or Sam Elliott’s glorious mustache?

Season 21, Episode 4 This week on Forgotten Cinema , we take a trip back to the early 2000s with Igby Goes Down , a film that was lauded at the time for its snarky wit and indie spirit. But as we quickly learned…not everything ages like fine wine. Igby Goes Down follows the misadventures of a young misfit (Kieran Culkin) who’s rebelling against his privileged upbringing. He’s joined by a stacked cast: Jeff Goldblum’s sleazy godfather, Susan Sarandon’s icy mother, and Claire Danes as the love interest who can’t seem to decide if she’s saving or sinking Igby. And while these performances still hold up, we found ourselves a little less enchanted by the film’s trust fund angst this time around. There’s something about aimless rebellion that feels less sympathetic when it’s set in luxury townhouses and art galleries. The film’s biting humor and nihilistic tone may have been the perfect fit for the early 2000s, but watching it now, the charm didn’t fully translate. That said, there’s still plenty to discuss. From the film’s snappy dialogue to the way it skewers (and sometimes wallows in) its own privilege, the movie is a fascinating snapshot of a particular era in indie filmmaking. Check out our full conversation, where we break down the film’s themes, share some behind-the-scenes trivia, and figure out if Igby’s going down or if we’re just over it. Listen on your favorite podcast platform! Spotify  | Apple Podcasts  | Amazon Music  | More Links

Season 21, Episode 3 This week on Forgotten Cinema , we grab our rifles, lace up our boots... and then sit and wait. And wait. And wait some more. That’s right, we’re diving into Sam Mendes’ Jarhead  (2005), a war film that boldly subverts what we expect from the genre. There are no battlefield heroics, no explosive action sequences, and not a single shot fired in anger. Instead, Jarhead  is a slow burn of frustration, fear, and psychological unraveling — all wrapped in some of the most haunting desert cinematography you’ll see this side of Lawrence of Arabia . Jake Gyllenhaal leads the charge (or lack thereof) as Anthony Swofford, a Marine sniper whose experience in Operation Desert Shield is less about combat and more about waiting for a war that never really comes. Alongside standout performances from Jamie Foxx and Peter Sarsgaard, Gyllenhaal brings a brooding intensity to a character caught between duty and disillusionment. In the episode, we dig into how Jarhead  explores the mental toll of military life — not through bullets and blood, but through boredom, paranoia, and the erosion of identity. It’s a war film about not  going to war, and that’s precisely what makes it so fascinating. We also ask: does this introspective, sometimes meandering tone still work nearly 20 years later? Has Jarhead  earned its place in the modern war movie canon, or does it feel like an atmospheric footnote? Whether you saw it in theaters back in ’05 or you’re discovering it for the first time, Jarhead  is definitely worth a second look — and a first listen to our latest episode. Listen on your favorite podcast platform! Spotify  | Apple Podcasts  | Amazon Music  | More Links