Greg and Giles were honored to be guests on the Movies from Hell podcast with Bradley Kornish and Dan Pullen and be put through the third degree as to why some of their favorite films (many of which we’d never heard of) didn’t make the List. It’s cross-pod promotion at it’s finest, folks!
SATURDAY SHORT: HANSEL AND GRETEL (2024)
A.I. imagines Hansel and Gretel as (mostly) X-ray skeletons, scoring the tale to diabolical electronica.
POD 355, EP. 89: LATE TUESDAY NIGHT DREAM OF KINDS OF UNRAVELING BEFORE CHRISTMAS
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Quick links/Discussed in this episode:
Kinds of Kindness (2024): Read Gregory J. Smalley’s Apocrypha Candidate review. The Blu-ray release of Yorgos Lanthimos‘ absurdist triptych comes with a “making of” featurette and two deleted scenes. Buy Kinds of Kindness.
Late Night With the Devil (2023): Read Giles Edwards’ Apocrypha Candidate review. The bargain Blu-ray of the Halloween talk show exorcism feature that has everyone talking, for those who don’t need the cool collectible doo-dads that came with the limited edition steelbook released a few weeks ago. Buy Late Night with the Devil.
The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993): Read Gregory J. Smalley’s review. The cult Halloween horror is being rereleased this week in theaters all across America; it’s from Disney, so nearly every corner of the country will get their shot. Check your local listings.
“So as to Dream: The Eternal Mysteries of Kaizo Hayashi”: Read Giles Edwards’ Apocrypha Candidate review of To Sleep So as to Dream. The other films in this series hosted by the Japan Society in NYC are 1989’s circus-themed Circus Boys and the “Maiku Hama” trilogy, three stylistically distinct movies which straddle the worlds of American detective films and Japanese crime films. Series screening at the Japan Society in NYC October 11-19.
Tuesday (2024): Julia Louis Drefus stars as a mother whose daughter is dying from cancer; Death arrives in the form of a talking parrot. Now on VOD from A24 (fortunately, the rental is not premium-priced, as is sometimes the case). Buy or rent Tuesday on VOD.
The Unraveling (2023): After an accident, a woman becomes convinced she has shifted into an alternate universe (but can still receive calls from her husband in her original reality). Releases simultaneously in some cinema somewhere; more widely available on VOD. The Unraveling distributor’s FaceBook page.
WHAT’S IN THE PIPELINE:
No guest scheduled for Pod 366 next week; Giles and Greg will return to discuss the week’s weird news and new releases. On the written review front, Shane Wilson continues plundering the reader-suggested queue for Halloween-appropriate candidates; this week he explores the comically haunted House (1986); Giles Edwards reports on the time-traveling bank robber indie Things Will Be Different (2024); and after several positive reports, Gregory J. Smalley decides it’s not too late to get a taste of The Substance (2024). We’ll also sneak in a link for a bonus podcast (though not Pod 366) on Sunday (you’ll see). Onward and weirdward!
A DIFFERENT MAN (2024)
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A Different Man is currently available for VOD rental or purchase.

DIRECTED BY: Aaron Schimberg
FEATURING: Sebastian Stan, Renate Reinsve, Adam Pearson
PLOT: Edward, an aspiring actor who suffers from disfiguring facial tumors, is cured by an experimental treatment and starts a new life; he then seeks to be cast in a play about his previous life, but becomes jealous when the charismatic, disfigured Oswald—a better actor and a better fit for the part—enters the scene.

COMMENTS: In one of the wickedly funny moments of A Different Man, Edward is passed over by an agent specializing in casting actors with “unusual physiognomies” in favor of a crazed, but relatively normal looking, subway provocateur. Edward’s neurofibromitosis has disfigured his character even more than his face: he prefers to slink into the background, he’s understandably paranoid, and he’s jumpy from constantly being on alert to incoming social threats. And yet, he harbors a vanity: to be an actor, despite the fact that he can barely remember his lines and has no sense of the appropriate register for the one job he does land, playing a disabled employee in a corporate inclusivity training video. The only bright spot in his life is his crush on Ingrid, a cute aspiring playwright living in the next apartment, but even she instinctively recoils from his touch (while remaining unfailingly friendly). So miserable Edward can hardly be blamed for volunteering for an experimental therapy that might reduce his tumors: “the risk may be worth the reward.” And when the treatment works miraculously well, not merely reducing his blemishes but completely healing them and turning him into a handsome man, he can hardly be blamed for indulging in unselfconscious socializing and casual sex—although some of his post-cure decisions will prove questionable.
But when dashing Oswald, another man with neurofibromitosis who has all the talent and social capital Edwards craves, but without having cheated through surgery, bursts onto the scene, Edward (now called Guy) is chastened and again filled with self-doubt. A Different Man is not a literal doppelgänger film—-Oswald not quite a literal double, but an independent individual who simply happens to share a rare characteristic with Edward—-but he serves the same symbolic story function as William Wilson or James Simon. It is a fittingly twisted take on the trope of the double. The weirdest thing about the film is Oswald’s sudden omnipresence—he pops up at rehearsals, at the bar, in Ingrid’s apartment—as if he’s being summoned by Edward’s guilty conscience. And Oswald’s appearance ignites the film’s central irony: Ingrid writes an off-Broadway play with the role Edward was born to play, but because of his successful surgery, he’s no longer right for the part.
A Different Man posits what appears to be a simple moral: changing your surface appearance will not change your essential nature. And yet this simple fable plays out in anything but a simple fashion, because the characters of Edward/Guy and Ingrid are so complex. (Oswald is not complex: although Pearson’s performance is unimpeachable, he’s a one-note symbol here.) Edward does some bad things, but we are predisposed to forgive him because we know where he came from and how he suffered in the first act. Our empathy for him shifts with the plot twists. Ingrid, too, is not the angel she first seems, but just another flawed specimen of humanity. The screenplay pulls the viewer in so many different directions that, as you watch the film, the seemingly simple message plays as psychologically complex. While mostly a comedy, it begins by generating a deep empathy for Edward’s condition. When he goes through the painful experimental treatment and literally rips ribbons flesh off of his face, it briefly becomes a horror film. When Oswald mysteriously pops in, it toys with becoming a psychological thriller. As Edward’s jealousy grows, it angles towards satire. And all the while the film doesn’t shy away from self-reflection: discussing the play within the film, Ingrid wonders out loud whether it is wrong to cast someone because of their disfigurement, rather than in spite of it. Schimberg keeps the viewer off balance, disguising the simplicity of the scenario in a way that seems to fully explore the story’s implications and yet leave something mysterious unsaid.
Writer/director Aaron Schimberg clearly created the movie as a showcase for Adam Pearson, who impressed him on the set of Chained for Life, and whom he described as “one of the biggest extroverts I’ve ever met: very much the life of the party, everybody loves him. He could be a cult leader if he wanted to.” Pearson obviously doesn’t get many feature film roles written for him, so the existence of two Schimberg/Pearson movies is a great bit of cinematic history trvia. If Schimberg comes up with a third unique role for Pearson, their collaboration may become legendary, in the Sergio Leone/Clint Eastwood vein.
WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:
CAPSULE: THE PLATFORM 2 (2024)
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El hoyo 2
DIRECTED BY: Galder Gaztelu-Urrutia
FEATURING: Milena Smit, Hovik Keuchkerian, Natalia Tena, Óscar Jaenada, Bastien Ughetto, Ken Appledorn
PLOT: A messiah reigns supreme over a cadre of “loyalists” in the pit, whose merciless enforcement of the law both maintains and threatens the lives of those volunteering to survive the platform.

COMMENTS: Galder Gaztelu-Urrutia might have done better just sticking to this franchise as a platform for various character studies. The kinds of people who “volunteer” for probable death by starvation are bound to be interesting: life’s losers casting the die for one last chance, be it for success, salvation, or something else. Gaztelu-Urrutia’s opening salvo in the original Platform allowed for dissection of society (rich at the top—literally, at least, food-wise—doomed at the bottom) and how individuals fit in to the whole mess. In his second outing, we meet some interesting people, and witness how zealotry in the name of the masses typically leads to a whole new flavor of injustice.
The platform’s new recruit, Perempuán, begins as a cipher, and despite staggered reveals pretty much remains so. She is the audience’s new window into this purgatorial nightmare, kept company for a time by an ogre of a fellow who may or may not be a mathematician, but is certainly a screw-up. But her pot-bellied cellmate is never a problem; indeed, he’s a sensitive soul with no aspirations to harm anyone other than himself. Harming others is left not just to the platform’s overseers in this outing, but also to a group of fanatics who have taken it upon themselves to enforce “the Law,” which was hinted at in the first film. Eat only your share. Do not eat the food of the dead—’cause it’s unfair. Disobey the Law, and you will be strictly disciplined.
With every thesis (the platform), there is antithesis (the cult of Law), morphing eventually into synthesis. Synthesis, in this case, is a rebellion against the rebellion. The prisoner’s law, as interpreted solely by an impressively mobile messiah—how he travels around the 333-level deep complex never quite clicks—raises some interesting questions: when does enforcement for the greater good become mere barbarism? Is pure equity something to pursue even when it means bringing everyone down to the same level of misery? At one point the messiah’s methods are questioned; he rejoins that they kill now so that they needn’t kill in the future. I’ve heard that before: tyranny thwarted by a rebellion, which turns into a horrible new tyranny. Gaztelu-Urrutia seems to suggest there’s a third, middle-way.
That sensibility usually gets lost in the fervor—and particularly so in the case of The Platform 2. There is much to enjoy this time around: the inmates are fleshed-out people pushed to desperate extremes; the vagaries of populist autocracy are dissected; and spiritual undertones manifest in a semi-elegant allegory. But as other viewers and critics have observed, a muddle (a frenzied, violent muddle) develops. Though the film gnaws at interesting themes, there are a few too many, and the climax feels like an under-chewed story to gulp down as the credits roll.
WHAT THE CRITICS SAY: