2 Dads 1 Movie

This week, the dads take on The Thing (1982), John Carpenter’s icy paranoia-fest that’s equal parts monster movie and trust exercise gone wrong. Steve brought this one to the table as a personal favorite, while Nic admitted he’d somehow gone his whole life thinking he’d seen it — only to realize five minutes in that he hadn’t. What follows is a gleeful descent into suspicion and slime, as the guys break down how this Antarctic nightmare manages to feel both enormous and claustrophobic at once. It’s Carpenter at his most controlled, and the dads are here for every quiet stare, sudden scream, and flamethrower blast.They revel in how the movie forces you to play detective right alongside the crew at Outpost 31. Steve can’t stop grinning over the slow escalation of distrust, while Nic fixates on how often the film makes you second-guess who’s even human. They talk about the practical effects that somehow still hold up, the perfect setup of that blood test scene, and how Russell’s MacReady feels like the last guy you’d want in charge — and yet, maybe the only one who could survive it. They even get sidetracked unpacking the film’s pacing, that eerie quiet before the chaos, and how Carpenter lets the camera linger just long enough to make you sweat.By the end, the dads are equal parts chilled and impressed, laughing about how this “weird little alien movie” somehow turns into a masterclass in tension. It’s a tight, talky, brutally effective film that earns every ounce of its reputation. For two dads who’ve seen their share of horror, The Thing still got under their skin — and maybe stayed there.

This week, the dads descend into Jacob’s Ladder (1990), the psychological horror that proves sometimes your mind is the scariest place on Earth. Nic, who picked the film, revisits a movie that left him rattled years ago, while Steve watches for the first time—instantly confusing it with The Lawnmower Man, because of course he did. As part of their Shocktoberfest series, the guys dive headfirst into Adrian Lyne’s trippy Vietnam fever dream, where Tim Robbins plays a mailman haunted by demons, memories, and the occasional post-shower existential crisis. It’s weird, it’s grimy, it’s got Danny Aiello as a chiropractor who might be God.They dig into the movie’s shifting realities, grimy 1970s New York subways, and a post-war trauma story that’s both deeply human and completely unhinged. Steve’s delight at discovering Kyle Gass of Tenacious D buried in the credits gives way to a full-on Macaulay Culkin conspiracy rant, while Nic admits he still doesn’t know what’s real by the end. There’s appreciation for Tim Robbins’ haunted performance, disgust at the hospital-from-hell sequence, and genuine awe for how much this movie inspired later horror aesthetics like Silent Hill. When Danny Aiello shows up to literally adjust Jacob’s spine and his soul, the dads realize they might be watching the most disturbing wellness commercial ever filmed.The result is an episode that feels like one long fever dream, equal parts philosophical and filthy. Between the dad jokes, theology tangents, and mild PTSD, this one nails what Shocktoberfest is all about: horror that sticks to your ribs. It’s not fun, it’s not cozy, but it’s unforgettable—like watching your own nightmares on VHS at 2 a.m.

This week, the dads dive into A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984), Wes Craven's slasher masterpiece that introduced the world to Freddy Krueger and his very particular brand of sleep therapy. Steve—who's been a horror devotee since begging his mom to take him to Gremlins at age 4—picked this one to kick off their Shocktoberfest theme month, while Nic admits he stayed away from slashers until college, traumatized by an ill-advised childhood viewing of Pet Sematary. Both hosts marvel at how Freddy became such a cultural icon that kids trick-or-treated as him before ever seeing the films, complete with that jump-rope chant everyone somehow knew.The conversation digs into what made this film revolutionary: the dream logic that feels genuinely universal, those stairs that won't let you run, the walls pushing through like fabric, the way reality keeps slipping. They geek out over the practical effects—that rotating room murder, the bed eruption requiring more blood than exists in the human body, all on a shoestring $1.8 million budget that somehow returned 31 times its cost. Steve points out the moral undertones running through these slashers, the unspoken rules about who survives. They both appreciate Heather Langenkamp's Nancy as a genuinely smart protagonist who figures out the rules and actually tries tactical solutions, even if Johnny Depp's Glenn keeps falling asleep on the job. The hosts also explore the darker subtext: a town that collectively committed vigilante justice, then buried the truth, leaving their kids vulnerable to supernatural blowback.This is classic 2 Dads territory—two guys who can appreciate both the craftsmanship and the cheese, who know these films cold but still get a kick out of revisiting them. They're here for the crop tops on dudes, the talking watches, the priest who absolutely roasts a dead teenager at his own funeral. It's a love letter to the movie that made an entire generation afraid to sleep, delivered by two dads who clearly never outgrew it.

This week, the dads tackle Pee-wee's Big Adventure (1985), Tim Burton's directorial debut that introduced audiences to both his distinctive visual style and Paul Reubens' beloved man-child character on the big screen. Nic picked this one after rediscovering it through his filmmaker friend who always championed the film's creative inventiveness, and both hosts were shocked by how well it holds up after decades away from it.Steve and Nic explore how Burton's low-budget magic creates an entire enchanted world around Pee-wee, from the Rube Goldberg breakfast machine to the secret bike garage to Large Marge's claymation face transformation. They discuss the film's cartoon logic and how it balances genuine childlike wonder with sophisticated filmmaking techniques, particularly praising Danny Elfman's whimsical score that perfectly complements Burton's dark-edged fantasy aesthetic. The hosts dive into memorable set pieces like the "Tequila!" dance at the biker bar, the studio chase sequence reminiscent of Blazing Saddles, and how the film essentially functions as a feature-length road trip through Tim Burton's imagination.The conversation touches on everything from the film's surprising emotional sincerity (everyone genuinely likes Pee-wee despite his weirdness) to Paul Reubens' later controversies and unfair treatment by the media, plus whether Pee-wee's bike was actually cool or just parent-friendly marketing. Both hosts admit they went into the rewatch with low expectations but came away genuinely charmed by a film that proves Burton was already a master of absurdist storytelling and visual invention in his very first feature.

This week, the dads tackle Tommy Boy (1995), Chris Farley's star vehicle that perfectly captured the sweet-natured physical comedy that made him a legend. Steve picked this one as a core memory from his teenage years, when Farley was at his peak and SNL-spawned comedies ruled the multiplex.Steve and Nic dive deep into what makes Farley such a force of nature on screen. They discuss his unique brand of "Lenny from Of Mice and Men" physicality mixed with genuine sweetness, and how the film was deliberately built around showcasing his talents. The hosts particularly love the chemistry between Farley and Brian Dennehy as father and son, noting how Big Tom's unconditional love for Tommy gives the character the confidence to bumble through life with infectious enthusiasm. They also break down the classic Farley-Spade dynamic, from the guarantee speech that shows Tommy finally finding his sales groove to David Spade's perfectly pitched reactions during Tommy's most chaotic moments.The conversation covers everything from the film's structural issues (a Rob Lowe villain plot that feels underdeveloped) to its surprising emotional restraint around Big Tom's death, plus plenty of tangents about 90s nostalgia, questionable music choices, and why every car in a road trip movie is doomed. By the end, both hosts wrestle with how to rate a film that delivers undeniable Farley magic wrapped in a less-than-perfect package that still holds genuine nostalgic power.

This week, the dads dive into Martin Scorsese's 1991 thriller Cape Fear, where Robert De Niro trades his usual New York growl for a chilling Southern drawl as Max Cady, an ex-con hellbent on destroying the lawyer who buried evidence during his trial. Steve experiences this psychological nightmare for the first time while Nic revisits a personal favorite that inspired one of the greatest Simpsons episodes ever made, complete with Sideshow Bob hiding under the family car.The guys break down what makes this remake so effective: De Niro's unhinged yet articulate performance that subverts every expectation of what a violent criminal should look like, the suffocating Hitchcockian atmosphere Scorsese creates from the opening credits, and powerhouse supporting work from Nick Nolte, Jessica Lange, and especially Juliette Lewis in her Oscar-nominated turn. Nic marvels at the film's ability to balance genuine terror with moments of dark comedy (that Mrs. Doubtfire disguise), while Steve geeks out over the legal cat-and-mouse game and Joe Don Baker's scene-stealing private investigator who just wants someone to feel "squirrely."Both dads recognize Cape Fear as a masterclass in sustained tension that works both as edge-of-your-seat thriller and disturbing meditation on justice, revenge, and family trauma. From leopard-print Speedos to speaking in tongues during a biblical storm finale, Scorsese delivers something that's simultaneously exploitation and art house. It's terrifying, it's brilliantly crafted, and it'll make you think twice about every bump in the night.

This week, the dads crank it up to 11 with This Is Spinal Tap, Rob Reiner's 1984 mockumentary about Britain's loudest heavy metal band and their disastrous American comeback tour. Nic gets only his second real taste of Christopher Guest's genre-defining comedy after years of hearing about amps that go to 11 and drummers who spontaneously combust, while Steve revisits a personal favorite that helped shape his love of improvised filmmaking.The guys dive deep into what makes this fake documentary feel so real: the pitch-perfect British accents, the seamless blend of scripted songs and improvised dialogue, and how Guest, Michael McKean, and Harry Shearer created fully realized characters with genuine friendship and history. They marvel at the technical difficulty of switching between singing and speaking in different accents, while geeking out over the film's influence on everything from Best in Show to Pop Star: Never Stop Never Stopping. They trade favorite moments from Nigel's miniature Stonehenge disaster to Derek's foil-wrapped airport security situation.Both dads recognize This Is Spinal Tap as essential viewing that created an entire comedy subgenre while remaining genuinely funny decades later. From "none more black" album covers to the fine line between clever and stupid, Reiner and crew built something that works both as brilliant parody and oddly touching portrait of artistic friendship. It's short, it's smart, and it rocks.

Michael J. Fox could do no wrong in the late 80s, and The Secret of My Success proves it, earning $111 million on a $12 million budget despite lukewarm reviews. Nic picked this PG-13 romantic comedy about small-town Brantley Foster's meteoric rise through a Manhattan corporation.Steve admits this is one of those movies he loves "maybe more than it deserves," putting it alongside Summer Rental and UHF, films that hit different when nostalgia's involved. Kansas farm boy Brantley arrives in gritty 80s New York only to have his first job disappear in a hostile takeover. Enter distant Uncle Howard, CEO of Pemrose Corporation, who gives him a mailroom gig after Brantley's classic "believe in yourself" speech.Peak 80s wish fulfillment follows as Brantley discovers an empty executive office and promotes himself to Carlton Whitfield, changing clothes in elevators while juggling identities. The hosts dive into Helen Slater's sarcastic Christie, the unhinged sex comedy involving Margaret Whitton's Vera, and bizarre food choices from all-night bagel bars to plates of raw vegetables that look "like AI-generated California cuisine."A fascinating time capsule of 80s corporate fantasy and Michael J. Fox at his most charming.

Steve picks the ultimate quotable comedy Friday (1995), and the dads dive into Ice Cube and Chris Tucker's hood classic that basically created its own language. From "Bye, Felicia" to "puff, puff, give," this movie spawned more everyday phrases than Shakespeare.Set over one day in South Central LA, Friday follows Craig (Ice Cube) after he gets fired and spends the day on his porch with best friend Smokey (Chris Tucker), who's got a serious problem. Smokey's been smoking Big Worm's weed instead of selling it, and now they owe $200 by 10 o'clock or they're both dead. What starts as a lazy Friday quickly becomes a neighborhood adventure featuring crackhead Ezel, neighborhood bully Deebo, and a cast of characters that feel like real people living real lives.The guys celebrate how Friday broke new ground as the first comedy actually set in the hood, treating it as a normal place where families live rather than just a backdrop for violence. Steve and Nic geek out over John Witherspoon's legendary bathroom scenes, DJ Pooh's hilarious Red, and Chris Tucker's shoulder twitch that still makes them laugh every single time.They also dig into the film's incredible quotability, noting how lines like "you got knocked the f*** out" and "that's my pleasure" have become part of standard American English. Steve admits the movie suffers slightly from Anchorman syndrome where the source material gets blamed for annoying quoters, but both agree this holds up as brilliant character-driven comedy that launched Ice Cube's screenwriting career and put Chris Tucker on the map.

This week, the dads tackle John Carpenter's sci-fi cult classic They Live (1988), and Steve discovers he's been living a lie. He thought he'd seen this Rowdy Roddy Piper vehicle but absolutely hadn't. While Nic picked this one for his love of Carpenter and childhood wrestling fandom, Steve gets his first taste of what happens when you put on those special sunglasses.This isn't your typical alien invasion movie. They Live follows a nameless drifter who stumbles into downtown LA looking for work and discovers that subliminal messages are everywhere and wealthy elites are actually skull-faced aliens in disguise. Armed with truth-revealing sunglasses from a resistance movement, our everyman hero goes from construction worker to one-man alien-fighting machine faster than you can say "I came here to chew bubblegum and kick ass."The guys dive deep into what makes this work: Carpenter's signature synth score, the brilliant black-and-white "alien vision" sequences, and Piper's surprisingly solid acting chops. Steve argues the movie feels more like an incredible premise than a fully realized story, with too much world-building and not enough plot. Nic geeks out over the wrestling choreography in that legendarily long five-minute alley fight between Piper and Keith David.Both dads recognize They Live as essential viewing. From the "Obey" imagery to that bubblegum one-liner, Carpenter created something genuinely unique that still sparks conversations about media manipulation and class warfare decades later.

Would you like to know more? This week, the dads enlist with Starship Troopers, Paul Verhoeven’s 1997 satirical sci-fi epic that dares to ask: what if fascism looked hot and the future was full of bugs? Rico, Dizzy, Carmen, and the gang may be beautiful, but their war is brutal — and the propaganda machine is always watching.Steve and Nic go all in on what makes this movie so special. From the absurdly good creature effects to the razor-sharp satire hiding behind every “Service guarantees citizenship” speech, it’s a film that knows exactly what it’s doing — even if you didn’t the first time you watched it. They talk horny high school drama, military fashion choices, Neil Patrick Harris in psychic Nazi drag, and why this movie hits different as an adult.There’s real admiration here for Verhoeven’s chaos: how he weaponizes tone, aesthetics, and cast-of-the-week TV energy to deliver something way smarter than it first appears.Is it a masterpiece? A mess? A misunderstood classic? This episode makes the case: it’s all of the above — and it rules.

This week, the dads go full slapstick with The Naked Gun: From the Files of Police Squad!, the 1988 Zucker-Abrahams-Zucker comedy where every line is a setup, every gag has a gag, and Leslie Nielsen’s Frank Drebin is the king of oblivious chaos.Steve and Nic break down what makes this one still land after all these years: the rapid-fire jokes, the perfectly straight-faced delivery, and the way Nielsen turns bumbling incompetence into comedic gold. They call out favorite sight gags, marvel at the pacing (there’s a lot packed into 85 minutes), and try to explain just how funny it is to watch O.J. Simpson get destroyed by every inanimate object known to man.From romantic montages set to Herman's Hermits, to Queen Elizabeth getting attacked at a baseball game, this movie doesn’t just spoof cop dramas — it goes full cartoon, and the dads are absolutely here for it.It’s dumb. It’s brilliant. Sure, it might be 50/50 that you don’t laugh at least once during this episode… but there's only a 10% chance of that.

This week, the dads take a wild swing at Happy Gilmore, Adam Sandler’s 1996 comedy about a hockey reject who turns golf into a full-contact sport. He’s got anger issues, a killer drive, and one goal: win the tour, save Grandma’s house, and punch as many smug jerks as possible along the way.Steve and Nic dive into why this movie still hits like a 400-yard drive — from Sandler’s chaotic energy to the endlessly quotable one-liners (“The price is wrong…”). There’s love for Carl Weathers’ surprisingly heartfelt turn as Chubbs, Christopher McDonald’s smarmy villainy as Shooter McGavin, and of course, the greatest Bob Barker cameo in cinema history.The dads also reflect on Happy Gilmore as a time capsule of late-’90s comedy: goofy, loud, oddly sweet, and somehow still iconic after all these years.So yeah — it’s dumb. It’s delightful. And it’s the only golf movie where the hero fights a clown, a crocodile, and a senior citizen… and wins.

This week, the dads try to make it rain responsibly (and hilariously) with Brewster’s Millions, the 1985 Richard Pryor comedy about a broke minor league ballplayer who suddenly has to spend $30 million in 30 days — without telling a soul why — or he loses out on $300 million more.Steve and Nic dig into the ultimate ‘80s fantasy: blowing through absurd amounts of cash on goofy schemes, doomed business ventures, and random acts of kindness, all while dodging every freeloading scam artist in New York. There’s love for Pryor’s laid-back charm, John Candy’s goofy loyalty, and that classic theme of “more money, more problems” with just enough slapstick to keep it light.The dads swap what-they’d-do scenarios (turns out, blowing money is harder than it sounds), laugh at the dated politics, and agree this is the kind of cable re-run that feels like a warm, silly weekend time capsule.It’s pure ‘80s excess — and sometimes, watching a good guy try to lose on purpose is the biggest win.

This week, the dads dust off the fedora and join Indy for The Last Crusade, the 1989 adventure where archaeology gets reckless, Nazis get punched, and father-son bickering steals the show. Harrison Ford is back as the world’s least subtle professor, but this time, he’s got Sean Connery along for the ride as his delightfully grumpy dad. Nazis, secret tombs, booby traps, and Grail lore collide in what might be the most fun Indy romp of them all..Steve and Nic trade favorite set pieces: the Venetian catacombs, that tank chase, the invisible bridge, and that whip-smack patented Indiana Jones punch sound. There’s genuine love for how director Steven Spielberg balances goofy dad jokes with big action moments, and a warm wave of nostalgia for when practical effects and real stunt work made adventures feel real.Maps, traps, grails, and one very awkward Zeppelin... this one’s a reminder that sometimes you really do want your heroes to choose wisely.

This week, the dads hack into Sneakers, the 1992 techno-thriller where an all-star crew of professional misfits breaks into places they probably shouldn’t, and uncovers secrets they definitely shouldn’t. Robert Redford leads a team that includes Sidney Poitier, Dan Aykroyd, River Phoenix, and David Strathairn in a twisty, witty caper that makes cryptography look like a full-contact sport.Steve and Nic break down the movie’s unique ‘90s charm: the laid-back heist vibe, paranoia about Big Brother, and the sheer delight of watching middle-aged men solve puzzles with dial-up modems and dry one-liners. There’s love for the cast’s chemistry, a comparison of the crew to the A-Team, and just enough talk about obsolete tech to make you miss floppy disks.Is Sneakers the best hacking movie that isn’t really about hacking? Or just the coolest anti-corporate comedy you forgot existed? Either way, the dads crack the code on why it still works three decades later.

This week, the dads get cryo-frozen and launched into the dystopian utopia of Demolition Man, the 1993 sci-fi action satire where everything’s clean, polite, and aggressively Taco Bell-branded. Sylvester Stallone is John Spartan — a demolition-prone cop thawed out to stop Wesley Snipes’ neon-haired supervillain Simon Phoenix, who’s turning the future into a cartoon crime spree.Steve and Nic break down this movie’s wild tone — equal parts shoot-’em-up and send-up — while tackling the big questions: Is Stallone actually funny in this? Was Snipes having too much fun? And seriously, what’s the deal with the three seashells? There’s love for Sandra Bullock’s perky awkwardness, retro-futuristic tech like the “Verbal Morality Statute,” and a lot of appreciation for how Demolition Man predicts (and mocks) the sanitized future we maybe already live in.It’s weird. It’s loud. It’s smarter than it looks. And it’s definitely not a Schwarzenegger Library kind of movie — or is it?

The dads are back — and so is the T-800 — for Terminator 2, James Cameron’s 1991 sci-fi action landmark that somehow made killer robots emotional and liquid metal cool. Arnold returns with a leather jacket and a new directive (protect, not terminate), while Linda Hamilton levels up to full-on action legend as a hardened, haunted Sarah Connor.Steve and Nic dig into the film’s wild legacy: the visual effects that still hold up, the moral core beneath the explosions, and the way Cameron turns a popcorn blockbuster into a dark meditation on fate and free will. There’s appreciation for Robert Patrick’s terrifying T-1000, debate over young John Connor’s slang-heavy dialogue, and the realization that even with all its bombast, this thing has feelings.It’s time travel, truck chases, mother-son bonding, and just enough early-90s tech anxiety to make you question your microwave. Hasta la vista? More like: see you again and again — this one’s a classic.

This week, the dads slide into the absurd world of Fletch, the 1985 mystery-comedy that gave Chevy Chase his most iconic role (and maybe his most chaotic wardrobe). Whether he’s undercover as a beach bum, a doctor, or someone named “Ted Nugent,” Irwin M. Fletcher is always armed with a fake name, a deadpan insult, and at least one outrageous lie.Steve and Nic dig into what makes this offbeat comedy work: Chase’s one-of-a-kind rhythm, the script’s tangled noir-lite plot, and the way the film somehow balances slapstick with cynicism. There’s debate over which of Fletch’s aliases is the most unhinged, plenty of love for Harold Faltermeyer’s synthy score, and a real-time reckoning with how not undercover Fletch actually is.Is this a relic of its time or a sly, still-rewatchable gem? Either way, it’s vintage Chase: full of one-liners, disguises, and a complete disregard for journalistic ethics.

This week, the dads head to Queens with Coming to America, Eddie Murphy’s 1988 comedy crown jewel. From royal palaces to fast food counters, we follow Prince Akeem’s quest to find a queen who loves him for who he is — not just his crown.We break down Murphy’s all-star multi-role performance, celebrate Arsenio Hall’s unmatched sidekick energy, and revisit the film’s unforgettable supporting characters, from barbershop philosophers to soul crooners and slippery corporate knockoffs. There’s discussion about which jokes still land, what’s aged a bit weirdly, and how this movie manages to mix rom-com sincerity with full-blown sketch comedy chaos.Is it one of the all-time great comedies? We think so. Just remember: it’s good to be the prince.