CHANNEL 366: DON’T HUG ME I’M SCARED (2011-2016, 2022)

DIRECTED BY: Becky Sloan, Joseph Pelling, Baker Terry

PLOT: Red Guy, Yellow Guy, and Duck find their days consistently interrupted by anthropomorphized objects in their home and uninvited guests who insist on teaching them lessons about life via song, dance, and increasingly unsettling interactions.

Still from "Don't Hug Me, I'm Scared"

COMMENTS: There’s a reason that children’s television is, on the whole, weird. After all, there are two competing, even contradictory goals at work: these shows often want to teach young people some valuable life lesson (the alphabet, how the mail is delivered, treating your friends with decency and respect), but hold the audience’s notoriously wandering attention while doing so. All those talking aardvarks and talking Blue Heelers and talking magical unicorns are handwaving determined to steal a child’s focus with any degree of strangeness necessary. Landmarks of the genre going back decades—“Captain Kangaroo,” “Kukla, Fran and Ollie,” “Pee-Wee’s Playhouse” —have all danced along the line where oddness tips over from charming to off-putting. Even the grand poobah of them all, “Sesame Street,” had to overcome initial concerns that its central conceit—humans and puppets living side-by-side—would be incomprehensible to children. Obviously, the kids figured it out.

Any success inspires parody, satire, and critique. Children’s TV has certainly earned its fair share, as can be seen in the stressful adulthood of the characters in Avenue Q, the aggressive surrealism of “Wonder Showzen,” and the oppressive nightmare of today’s subject, “Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared.” This British web-series-turned-TV-show is perfectly captures the way that just living in the world can feel like unavoidable oppression. The machinations of people who are venal, stupid, or both conspire against “Don’t Hug Me”‘s characters, through the lens of two puppets and a guy with a crimson mop for a head who just want to get through the day. For anyone who remembers childhood as an endless series of grownups trying to kill your fun with their wondrous tales of adulthood and education, this is a show that sees you clear as day.

“Don’t Hug Me” began as a web series, and it establishes its theme—the world is fundamentally cruel—right away. In the very first short, a singing sketchpad shows up to share the wonders of thinking with boundless imagination, and after engaging the trio, she immediately proceeds to shut down their creative efforts with helpful corrections like “Green is not a creative color.” And there’s always room for things to get worse. A collection of creatures trying to describe love pile on more and more parameters and qualifiers, culminating in the revelation that they worship a giant idol and feed it gravel. An interest in food spurs on a storm of questionable nutrition advice, recommending aspic and referring to vegetables as “soil food.” These Continue reading CHANNEL 366: DON’T HUG ME I’M SCARED (2011-2016, 2022)

366 UNDERGROUND: BRAINSTARE (2025)

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Beware

DIRECTED BY: Steve Balderson

FEATURING: Fake AI actors

PLOT: An employee of the futuristic Malos megacorporation submits himself to a mandatory scanning of his deepest and most profound memories.

Still from Brainstare (2025)

COMMENTS: Made a few months prior to the release of ‘s Incorporeal Man (2025), Brainstare was another attempt at creating a human- written script exclusively using  AI technology. While Incorporeal Man reveled in the unnaturalism of the final product, seeking a so-bad-is-weird cult status, Brainstare is determined to go for a more “decent” look and production quality. Some serious problems, though—especially in terms of pacing—make it an even more challenging viewing experience.

Brainstare is divided into two acts, chamber dramas played in two different interior locations. The plot, set in a dystopian future, follows Anthony, an empolyee of the Malos Corporation, who has to submit himself to a scanning of his deepest memories or risk being fired and ostracized. The first act—with an exhausting duration of about one hour and twenty minutes—observes our protagonist in his home with his partner and colleague Sheba, as she tries to persuade him to proceed with the necessary tests. Their conversation develops gradually into the portrait of a one-sided relationship where Sheba seems to play the role of a reward for an obedient worker rather than a real love-partner.

What an excruciatingly slow development that is! The AI does an acceptable job visualizing people and environments, with an uncanny aesthetic recalling rotoscope animation. The audio also presents no difficulties: both the characters’ voices and sound effects do their job. But the only aspect of the production real humans worked on —the script—-proves to be the worst element. Outrageously repetitive dialogues and an extensive use of the thesaurus make a telenovela seem brilliant in comparison.

The second act, mercifully shorter than the first, shouldn’t be discussed too much to avoid possible spoilers. Not that the story has tremendous reveals and twists; let’s just say that the debates regarding the moral implications of a scanning of our most profound memories and thoughts continues, with new commentary on our relationship with the unconscious.

There is material for a good “Black Mirror”-esque narrative here, but the execution is underwhelming, to say the least. Slow plot advancement and dialogue straight out of a soap opera make The Room, or even Incorporeal Man, preferable viewing options.

Baldersion has made Brainstare available for free viewing on YouTube.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

No independent reviews found at the time of publication.

CAPSULE: THE LIVING DEAD GIRL (1982)

La morte vivante

DIRECTED BY:

FEATURING: , Françoise Blanchard

PLOT: Summoned home by the familiar strains of a music box, Hélène finds her deceased best friend transformed into a blood-thirsty revenant.

Still from The Living Dead Girl (1982)

COMMENTS: Abandoning the laissez-faire surrealism of his 1970s films, Rollin entered the ’80s with a more traditional, blood-soaked horror effort. Living Dead Girl boasts a more straightforward and coherent plot than many Rollin movies, with one gory set-piece after another. The script minimizes his usual wordy exposition on the existential quandaries of the vampiric condition, allowing the drama between the two leads to unfold amidst plentiful killings. There’s nothing especially weird about this one, but it may appeal to fans of low budget ’80s horror.

Catherine Valmont (Blanchard), the scion of an aristocratic family, comes back to life when a minor earthquake spills the toxic waste that some unscrupulous corporation has been hiding in her family crypt. When the men disposing of the chemical barrels decide to rob her tomb, they get more than they bargained for as she rises from her coffin. At first, Catherine seems almost zombie-like, murdering indiscriminately without knowing why she’s compelled to do so. As she returns to her family’s ancestral chateau, she gradually recovers memories, including of her childhood friend, Hélène (Pierro).

Unlike most Rollin films, this pair of female protagonists have a backstory, which adds a surprising degree of emotional depth as the narrative builds towards an agonizing climax. Catherine and Hélène swore an oath to be blood sisters as children, including a promise to follow each other even in death. A music box symbolizes this promise. Catherine’s ability to play it for Hélène, even in her undead condition, reinforces the bond between them.

Quickly realizing that Catherine needs human blood to remain in a living state, Hélène progresses from unwilling accomplice to determined murderer in her desperation to keep Catherine “alive.” As their relationship pivots, a side plot emerges involving an obnoxious American tourist who’s convinced something strange is going on in the old chateau. A typical nosy photographer stock character, as seen in many American horror films from the 1930s-40s, but at least in this case she gets what’s coming to her.

Philipe D’Aram, the composer for Rollin’s Fascination, returns with an uninspired synth-inflected score that does nothing but accentuate the sparseness of the story. Though the kills keep coming, with plenty of gratuitous blood and nudity, the overall pacing is slow, dragged out by unnecessary scenes of local color. Living Dead Girl lacks Rollin’s typical dreaminess but still has moments of startling beauty. Its strength lies in the performances of Pierro and Blanchard. Thanks to their intensity, this is one of Rollin’s most strangely moving films, with a searingly unforgettable final scene.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…one of [Rollin’s] most lyrical and haunting achievements… the film never releases its grasp on the viewer’s imagination and conjures up a strange fairy tale ambiance…”–Nathaniel Thompson, Mondo Digital (UHD release)

 

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POD 366, EP. 172: MATADOR BOLERO’S JONATHAN ROSADO (AND A LITTLE SMOKING)

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Audio link (Spotify)

YouTube link

Discussed in this episode:

Matador Bolero (2026): An underground movie done in the style of a 1960s Super-8 experimental film, about the murder of an actress and possible links to a cult worshiping a super-intelligent computer. Now in theaters.

The Cell (2000): Read Giles Edwards’ review. The 4K UHD (+ Blu-ray) standard edition release from Arrow (so lots of extras) of the psychological thriller where enters the mind of a serial killer. Buy The Cell.

Dead Mountaineer’s Hotel (1979): Read Shane Wilson’s review. Deaf Crocodile releases the standard Blu-ray + UHD for the Soviet sci-fi mystery, previously available only in a limited edition. Buy Dead Mountaineer’s Hotel.

The Holy Mountain rescore: Alternate scores of existing movies are a cool thing, and have moved on from silents to alternate versions of existing talkie scores. For The Holy Mountain, the Cue Northwest Music Residency held a contest to rescore the film, which was won by the avant-rock group Zen Mother. The band will play the score live at a screening at Northwest Film Forum in Seattle sometime in 2027, and hopefully their version will also be available elsewhere. Read the announcement at The Stranger.

The Trouble with Terkel (2010): A bullied 6th grader turns to booze to deal with the guilt caused by his being responsible for the suicide of a classmate. Pixar passed on remaking this transgressive Danish animated comedy. Buy The Trouble with Terkel.

Wetiko (2026): Billed as a “psychedelic jungle thriller,” this feature addresses the phenomenon of “shamanic tourism.” Now on VOD after a brief run in theaters. Wetiko on VOD.

WHAT’S IN THE PIPELINE:

No guest on next week’s Pod 366. Gregory J. Smalley will be on vacation, but Giles Edwards and Pete Trbovich will talk about two canonically weird classics (Audition and Perfect Blue, if you want to do your homework), among other topics. In written content, Enar Clarke fills out our coverage with The Living Dead Girl (1982), Michael Diamades takes on the AI-generated feature film Brainstare (2025), and Shane Wilson surveys the entire run of the Muppet-style existential horror show for kids “Don’t Hug Me, I’m Scared”. Onward and weirdward!

Celebrating the cinematically surreal, bizarre, cult, oddball, fantastique, strange, psychedelic, and the just plain WEIRD!