Father Malone's Weekly Roundup - Michael Keaton, House Party (2023)

Welcome back midnight viewers to a mental episode of Father Malone's weekly round Up. I'm follow Malone. The pug is Ripley Jane. I know when or when will it be warm again? And by warm, I mean one hundred and ten in the shade.

Baby. I've been a desert dweller for twenty five years now. My blood is heroin, chic thin like Superman. I need the golden rays of the sun. I do not understand this precipitation East.

Hilariously, it's rained here in the past six months about as much as any random week in Boston. But you'd think it was an ever blossoming spring here from the greenery on display. Desert flora is fucking tenacious. Man. Here's the lowdown on everything I've been watching.

It's really one thing. I did not realize there was a new House Party movie. I had heard there was one in development some time ago, though I was still waiting. Fucking movie came out three years ago. This system is broken, everybody.

I saw that first House Party flick one million times because I was an usher at the Low's Assembly Square in Somerville, Massachusetts. I can, but I will not. For I am merciful. I can wrap the entirety of that song house Party. It played over the end credits, and that theater was always packed, so it was a lot of cleaning.

Remember that minecraft phenomenon we had where kids were just going fucking wild with the popcorn typical Friday night in nineteen ninety. Movie audiences are and always have been pigs. That was an exciting time for African American filmmakers and a pretty fucking great moment over all. In nineteen ninety, the vanguard of black cinema was Kathleen Collins and Michael Schultz Crush, Groove and Cooley, Hi, Come on Now, Robert Townshend and his sleeper hit Hollywood Shuffle, and yes, of course Shelton Lee spiked to the World You Dig Show. Enough As far as black filmmakers and their chance to have their voices and experiences given the amplification they richly deserved, although it would have happened anyway, I think a lot of the greasing of the wheels as far as embracing Black voices was thanks to Eddie Murphy.

He was a leading man, not just to a targeted audience, he was world fucking wide name above the title Everyone Wants Him Superstar. On a less explosive scale, Lee was for directors what Murphy was for actors. I'm comparing the two as a goof because they almost immediately had a beef over fucking nonsense. Back in like eighty nine, after the massive success of Do the Right Thing, Hollywood woke the fuck up, maybe not to the fact that there are new visionaries out there to discover and more holy shit, white people will go see black movies chitching. So in between nineteen eighty nine and Do the Right Thing and ninety one and the start of the fucking tsunami of the Black New Wave, a wave that, let's face it, thanks to the studios, was fueled by stories of gritty and violent street crime.

In nineteen ninety we got a joyous celebration of black youth and culture with a mainstream appeal while maintaining a narrow focus on basically an unexplored cinematic experience. It is a silly script with lots of nutty situations, but overall, man, this side of Mission College, you weren't seeing this many black faces congregating and just having a fucking good time. Even those school days, kids were fucking tortured, and if I may say something about school days quickly everyone knows that Vanilla ICE's tune Ice Ice Baby is a total joke that used the awesome under pressure sample from Bowie and Queen, but he ripped the whole fucking song off from school Days. He doesn't have a career without the men of Alpha Phi Alpha at the step competition.

Nice Baby, the Blackie Dogs. Nice Nice, Nice Baby, Blackie. Right anyway. House Party, which is in the National Registry now Library of Congress, was based on director Reginald Hudland's award winning short film and is basically the exact same plot. Two kids throw at the house party to up their social standing.

Kidden play Martin Lawrence, Robin fucking Harris, and yes, Tisha Campbell. I think I've already waxed rhapsodic over miss Campbell Obron our Little Shop of Horrors episode. The whole thing is so fucking fun. The music is awesome, the violence is cartoonish, the fashions are still questionable. It is a nice appartif before the very serious movies that started crashing against our shores.

So back in twenty twenty three, someone had the bright Eyedea to remake house party. They're remaking everything else. Come on, gets so lazy as a will Barty. That's what you you would get staying out partying all night. I'm a promoter.

I'm working. I got like eighteen thousand followers. You know who got followers? Jesus take your route ass to work? You just caurs.

What would Jesus side? Jesus would say, shut up, fuck out? This is my house. What you know about him? With its prologistics?

See you later? As usually need the cleanest place I ain't got all day? Who that couch just fucked it up? Who's priviged this man? Steve Jobs?

Steve Jobs is dead food? I mean his house does. Yeah, dude, got Miami shit, Cleveland ship, La ship, damn big the city? Bro? Oh my god, we in the Brond's house.

James, Heyo, you're a one handsome motherfucker. He got a hologram of himself just to give him compliments. You handled the decision to go to Miami perfectly. Nah, that's a cat. I need ten jeez by next week.

I gotta pay for my daughter school. Bro. They on vacation. How about were throwing a party in the King's house. We go and write all the celebrities.

We can make ten times the money. We can send this into preschool college whatever. Tonight is our last shot. It looks like me up out the house. I see you there?

How are you ship going to joke? Right? I'm Peter is lebron home. By the way, black lives matter, they do. I posted two squares on my Instagram respect.

As I said, this is all. I wouldn't do something like this unless I was desperate. She cracking, bro, I can you see how out of. Control this party is? Ship?

We done fucked up the koala? You good? What the fuck just happened? Your hairline is perfect? Anyone who says otherwise it's just jealous.

This guy, Reginald Hudland is on board as a producer, So there's that. And it's got a script by Stephen Glover and Jamal Alori, who each wrote for every season of Donald Glover's Amazing Show Atlanta. It was directed by Calmatic. Now. As a card carrying member of the Pseudonym Club, I highly encourage everyone to make up their own name.

Though his actual name is Charles Kidd with two d's. How he's not Captain Kidd is fucking Beyond Me. Calmatic kicked down a lot of doors with the Old Town Road video for Little Nasex back in twenty nineteen, followed by a gigantic career in advertising and video making, and then bam, in one year, he's making two movies, or rather remaking two movies. He not only did a house Party, he did the White Men Can't Jump remake as well. That one.

I did know about it, existence I just hate that first film, but I'll probably end up watching it at some point. This House Party eeskews stunt casting, although one of its producers is Lebron James, and he figures into the plot pretty heavily, and there are tons of cameos. But this isn't Abbot and Costello throw a banger. This is a buddy comedy with two actors in. The lead roles.

And this isn't a low key teenager flick. These are young adults struggling to get their promoting gig off the ground while fighting the usual real world problems, including the shitty cleaning jobs that lead them to the aforementioned producer's house. So this is an illegal party in order for these two dumb dums to make enough money to survive and the first act is fucking killer. This cast is fucking breezy and amiable, and the tone is just right, with characters that are genuinely funny. And then the dreaded plot kicks in.

It always does, doesn't it. Unless you're Emerald Fanel, then it's all mood. That book is too dense to adapt. Did you hear that interview Emerald Fanell gave about her adaptation of Wuthering Heights. Too dense to adapt, then don't do it?

How Smarty could have used a bit of her It's all vibe approach to its storytelling, though, because this film is so grounded in the real world that it ends up requiring real world stakes. But at the same time it wants to play around in that cartoonish violence of the first film, but then there's actual bloodshed. The movie's a mess. It's a fine mess. I think that was a Blake Edwards movie with Ted Danson and Howie Mandel.

This is way better than that film. I haven't seen it, but I know anyway. I'm not panning this film at all. I'm just saying not lower your expectations. Doesn't need that, it needs you to adjust your expectations.

This isn't nineteen ninety remake, so here to stay, so quit bitchin. And this is a valiant effort. It goes in lots of fun and unexpected directions. It's just so committed to that experiment though, that it never really settles on one tone and it kind of unravels. But it's funny.

And remember in the first film, Kid was menaced by a group of bullies, Stab and Peewee and Zilla played by full force. Those characters are a thousand times better here. In particular, Melvin Gregg as Larry no comic book villain names here, his recitation of what he wants to do to our heroes is unhinged in really goddamn hilarious. So see this one if you want, or just go back and watch the original. If you give me advanced notice, I'll come sweep up and perform the closing number for you.

Hit at HBO K, thank you, HB the number two. Mattman pet Peeve the way any two bit moron with a flashlight and a piece of cardboard can summon him at night. Who's your favorite actor? Ripley, Lauren Green? The fuck are you talking about?

Is because he sold dog food for all those years after Bonanza. Yeah, he was good in Towering Confirmed. Yeah, he was the og a damon Battlestar Galactica. You're right well mine, Yes, I did just ask you so I could talk about mine. It's my show.

My favorite actor once in forever is mister James Cagney. Yes, mister, you dirty rat. He never said that, by the way. Everyone thinks he did because of Frank Gorshon's impression of him, But he actually says, you're the rat that killed my brother. The Cagney's were an Irish family with five kids in a Jewish slum on the Lower East Side.

That locale gave young Jimmy a proficiency in Hebrew, a fact that he quietly used to his advantage during contract negotiations, when Jack Warner and his cohorts would confidently speak to each other of their true intention. Jack Warner in fact hung a nickname the Professional against her on Cagney because mister Cagney fought tooth and nail to get every perk and every penny he could and any infraction of the contract on the studio's part. Off he went back east to visit family or or somewhere tropical to vacation while he waited for the studio to cough up enough money to get him to return, not to mention all the overtime everyone on his sets tended to get when he just couldn't quite nail that line.

Let's go again, listen. I'm a mud of a human being, an American melting pot on legs. I know everyone's got a grandma who is a Cherokee princess and they're all one eighteenth native, But my grandma, Bobby Joe, was a one hundred percent Cherokee down in Tennessee via North Carolina, where she married a Scottish. Here's where the fun begins because the other wing of the family, Graham, was one hundred percent County Sligo Irish, and my granddad was German and French Prussian technically when the family left so as makepeace as I am, I never knew either. Granddad and Bobby Joe lived in Florida, giving me pretty much the total Irish identity growing up, which is easy to do in Boston, believe me.

So I tended to gravitate to any artist that bore a bit of the green in them. So it was all pogues on the radio sometimes the water Boys. I've never been a huge fan of Van Morrison. Some of the stuff when he was with that band of them is fucking incredible, and he's got some good tunes, but he's mostly jazz, and who needs jazz when there's Irish triple time beat in existence. James Cagney was just the pinnacle to me.

Good looking, tough as nails are real fucking presents, but he was also goofy and brimming with joy at all time. He above all was a dancer as weird a gait as he had. Man. You never see Cagney so at home as you do when he's moving them feet. He got the Academy Award for Yankee Doodle Dance, which was more of a Lifetime Achievement award.

People complained that he hadn't won for a gangster role like White Heat instead of song and Dance Man George M. Cohen, They're half right. He should have won for a different picture, but that movie was Footlight Parade, another musical comedy. Anyway, my point was he wasn't all flinty steel, which is what you got from most of the Warner Brothers stars, nor was he strictly a goof which the studio had in equal, if not greater measure. There's a fragility at his core that makes the ferociousness of his persona all the more real and all the more genuinely frightening.

And I didn't think we'd ever see his like again, except we've had him all along. You saw the title, we're talking about my favorite living actor, mister Michael Keaton. It's Douglas. If he didn't know, thanks to sag and that other kind of famous Michael Douglas, he became Keaton. His method for choosing Keaton literally running his finger down the page in a phone book and stopped on Keaton.

I've been a fan of his my entire life, even when I had no idea. Like every good Pennsylvanian, Keaton got his start on mister Rogers' neighborhood sketch about the Flying Zucchini Brothers. He did stand up for a long while. There was a period during the seventies and eighties where a whole bunch of people got up on stage that had ended up having careers so far from it, you'd have no idea. Tim Thomerson, Emma Thompson Ron Pearlman.

I'm shocked his comedy career didn't work out. Thomas Wilson, you know Biff from Back to the Future. His stand up is fucking hilarious. But all the while, Keaton kept plugging away with guest spots on Maud and Mary Hartman. Mary Hartman, he co starred in his own short lived series with Jim Belushi called Working Stiffs Awful awful stuff.

And then there was night Shift Bill Blaise Jowski scenes Stealer Extraordinaire night Shift, which I really ought to cover, maybe over on the Patreon channel. Here's the thing, Let's be honest, midnight viewers. You all love the current reviews of current movies and shows. That I do. It's not even a question.

The downloads go bananas. If I put out a review of a movie the weekend that it debuted, So are one off episodes like this, I'll letdown. I suppose the ones who think it is aren't listening, so I guess I'll have to ask them next Fema Mega movie is coming out anyway. Night Shift is a burned in my brain. I had seen plenty of R rated films by the time it came out.

Cable television was a revelation in that regard, but I had also seen plenty in the theater. My grandmother brought me to see Raging Bull, but I had never snuck into a movie before Night Shift, and I didn't do it alone. Nightshift came out in eighty two, so I was nine, and my best chum, Freddie Hagstrom's older brother, who in nineteen eighty two had the craziest collection of new wave and British imports that I don't think i've seen better to this day, honestly. Well, he and his buddies were talking up night Shift, and I remember it was raining out and we all decided that we would go and buy tickets to the Pirate movie. Shake your head slowly in disgust if you remember the Pirate Movie, a fucking slap dash reworking of Pirates of Penzance starring Christy McNichol and Christopher Atkins with updated lyrics like in the model of a modern major General.

They throw in this hilarious line I'm older than the Beatles, but I'm younger than the Rolling Stones. And there's a lightsaber fight at one point. Anyway, we walked on pas the Pirate movie theater and crowded into and ducked down in the back row of Night Shift, and I instantly fell in love with Michael Keaton there, and then I also fell in love with Shelley Long. I know that's weird to a lot of people, but she is a smoke show in that movie. Keaton so goddamned.

Many of his lines in this movie are burned in my brain. Jag Off, what's that the birds? It's the damn birds. And since that moment, my radar has always been up for him, though I wouldn't have to wait long. The next year, he was the lead in Mister Mom, which we'll get back to.

After that, he was off a little bigger each time, Johnny Dangerously with the lovely merrilu Henter gung Ho The Squeeze. Have you seen The Squeeze? Where he's an artist who's building this gi fucking gantic dinosaur made of television sets and there's a whole plot about rigging the New York Lottery and Meatloaf is a huge creep in it. I love that movie. But it was the next year and Beetlejuice that made him a household name.

And then just one year later everyone on the planet knew him as Batman. I'm already well on record about Batman returns. It is a masterpiece. Now, Keaton would pemper his career with big budget flicks, which more often than not he made feel like an ensemble, even if he was the clear lead like The Paper, and smaller budget fare like One Good Cop, all the while maintaining a level of anonymity that ranks off the charts using the Harrison Ford scale. Of course, I have no idea if he's married as kids, kind of like Jimmy Cagney back in the day.

If you read anything about Cagney off the lot, it's usually peppered with tales of the Irish Mafia, a precursor to the rat Pack, which, by the way, you say rat Pack and everyone thinks Sinatra and Sammy Davis Junior and Dean Martin, but you know they were more like rat Pack the next generation. Lauren Bacall and David Niven and Judy Garland in Swifty Lazaarre and Yes, Sinatra were in a group headed by Humphrey Bogart. It was Baccall who hung the name rat Pack on them. After Bogart's death in fifty seven, Sinatra appropriated the concept and turned it into the ringding ding business we're still dealing with in modern Las Vegas. Both versions of the rat Pack were peopled with rowdies, but the group known as the Irish Mafia were just a bunch of timid actors.

It was a group of fellow Finyan Thespians like Pat O'Brien and Frank McHugh and a bunch of half German folk. Cagney himself was quick to point out how ridiculous that membership was ethnically motivated. He was a quarter Norwegian, Ralph Bellamy was an Irish at all. And what did their mafia do? They had supper sometimes together, That's about it.

Cagney was a homebody. He understood the spotlight and used it to his advantage, but didn't revel in it. Same with Keaton. Since that Megaton explosion of Batman fame, Keaton has done consistently solid work with seemingly no interest in regaining that superstar crown. For a guy who started on Mister Rogers and was essentially a stand up, he matured into a fucking hell of a dramatic actor, I'd recommend desperate measures and pacific heights for him and just him.

He's terrifying in those flicks, and those performances deserved better. He played FBI agent Ray Nicolette in both Tarantino's Jackie Brown and Soderberg's Out of Sight. He was ken Way before Ryan Gosling and Toy Story three, and he was if you'll indulge me a moment, dear listeners, the star of the family fantasy heartwarming Christmas movie Jack Frost, where he dies after promising his son he'd be home by Christmas and then comes back as a snowman. You're indulging me because this is an impression that has always cracked up HP. This is Michael Keaton as Jack Frost, having just realized he's a snowman.

Why Why, oh God, Cold So Cold. Keaton had a renaissance back in twenty fourteen with the very meta single take not really because everything's digital now and single takes are meaningless. Flick Birdman, or The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance followed immediately with Spotlight about the Catholic Church pedophilia scandal, uncovered by some intrepid Boston Globe reporters and the founder fuck see the Founder. You will love him and hate him in equal measure. And yeah, he was Adrian Tombs and Spider Man, best Spider Man villain to date.

I'm except no dissenting opinions there. And he came back as a variant of Bruce Wayne in The Flash, best part of that fucking nightmare fest and last year two years ago now his triumphant return as Beetlejuice. But I want to mention two films you might not have heard of. The first has echoes of mister Mom told you how to get back to it and was overshadowed by the Ghosts with the Most that same year of release. The other is from a year earlier, which was overshadowed by The Flash.

Now, mister Mom is a favorite of mine. It was all Keaton all the time. After watching night Shift four thousand times on cable, I was stoked that this guy was now a lead. I'd say that the movie hasn't aged well, but if there's a snapshot of a particular time and place and portrait of social mores, it's mister Mom. Elder millennials will remember a time in history when the notion of a man taking care of a baby was absurd.

Mister Mom as a title is an absurd title. It's meant to make you laugh men racing children, Oh, you silly things. I took it as an alarm bell. Wake up, dummies. The generation you raised has found you lacking and you need to be more involved.

My dad was at a hockey game the night I was born. Matflick is about a man downsized from the auto industry who then must take over homemaking while his wife reignites her nascent advertising career. It's got Terry garr and Martin Mullin and Jillian oh My and Jillian as the predatory neighborhood strumpet very tempting. Like I said, the humor is ninety nine percent. Isn't it odd to see a man change a diaper?

But that's not why the movie works. It does because at its center is a fucking lunatic who goes above and beyond to bring the funny no matter what situation. If you wonder what a modern take on mister Mom might be, wonder no longer. Released in twenty twenty four, Goodrich stars Keaton as the eponymous lead character, Billy. I'm sorry, just go you go out every night.

Well, I have to go to work. Somebody has to support the generations of children who hate me. Naomi, where are you happy? What I am staying for ninety day? Wait?

What? I gotta go ninety days? You'll do great? What's up? Debt?

Naomi's in rehab seriously detected the pills and me. You don't seem really surprised. I don't know. I guess it's not like that big of a shocker. Not a shocker.

Well, mom had to go back home for a little while to see Grandma. You know, she's getting older. So I'm not the same interesting, No, she's not. No, she's not a good deal older than I am. But anyway, thanks are so hot right now at the gallery.

We can't pay our rent. You guys are in debt, Ryan de Nile, you got this? Mama? Could you watch the kids for me? I never ask you for your help too.

Might Do you really want me to answer that lately? I was just going to say lately, I was just going to say it. Why do you say your debt isn't he all of our cats? Well, I'm twenty seven years older than you, which is basically unheard of for siblings except maybe in La. I can't believe my baby's had a baby.

So you go to things like this now parent teacher conferences. I did all that stuff with you never, Oh, come on, do we not have a good relationship. Well, it's just that when I was Billy and Moses, they hardly saw you. You have no idea how stressful the circumstances are. Right now.

My wife patted, Yeah, we're separated. I know why that matter. It doesn't matter. They don't want to be bothered. Then you're always that they get a portent of you that I never had.

I know. Just don't cry because if you cry, and I'm going to cry. And in the end, there were really only three things that matter. How much you've loved, how gently you've lived, and how gracefully you let go of the things that really weren't even meant for you. I want you to channel a word that describes what you need.

We're all going to shout our words at the same time. I was gonna count a three. I'm gonna be a dad, You're gonna be a good luck with a pet. Andy Goodrich owns a struggling art gallery in Los Angeles. In the opening scene, he's awakened by a phone call from his wife announcing she's in rehab for the next ninety days, and he'll now have to take over all the housework, including the care of his fraternal twins aged nine.

This isn't a comedy, I should point out. It's very funny frequently, but it ends up being more about what I got out of mister mom than another mister Mom. Goodrich is shocked not only that his wife is suddenly in rehab, but he's oblivious to the problems of that led her there. Given how utterly clueless he is with his two current children, he's forced to enlist the aid of his grown daughter from his first marriage, played by Mila Cunis, who's excellent in this, playing the hell out of an adult child watching a mature, attentive and engaged parent when she had only absence growing up. This is the second feature from writer director Hayley Myers Shire.

The Shire in her name is Charles Shier, director of those Father of the Bride films with Steve Martin, and the Meyers is mom Nancy Myers, who wrote those Father of the Bride movies with Steve Martin, as well as writing and directing Something's got to Give and a personal favorite I've mentioned it a lot, The Holiday with Kate Winslet and Jack Black. Haley is a better filmmaker than her dad. We'll see if she hits mom's level of writing, but if her first two features are any indication, she is going to be a fucking wild talent down the line. And it was great to see Keaton just as a regular guy again and not multiple versions of a regular guy, or one so out of touch he doesn't know where to drop his kids off at school, or at least not one completely thrown by the concept.

The other flick, the one I really want to recommend, came out one year before. It's called Knox Goes Away. I've been doing this show a long time. People like to talk about the targets. Think it made him feel better?

Why don't care who the guy is? God? What it was really all about? Which was done ten minutes. They're not gonna be.

Anybody as you're okay, Macks, you have a very rare form of dementia. How much time to have? Weeks not months? I'm sorry, that's okay, Doc. Even if I hated you for telling me, I'd forget soon or not.

I'm sorry. I didn't mean to show up like. This, don't I know you? Yeah? Please Miles, what happened?

It's gonna hurt my daughter, So I kill him. I never asked you for anything in my life, but I'm desperate. Why does he hate you so much? They find out what I did for a the name, but police are all over this. You don't put it off this alost else.

It's been worse every hour. It's like a curtain. You're coming down. I'm not out of time. They finally got up to you.

There's no coming back from this one. It was you know what you turn me. That's not true that you're losing it. Something's wrong with you. John, Good luck.

I swear I'd never be like you. And here we are. This is the first decent script from Gregory Poier, and it more than makes up for Tom Katz and A Sound of Thunder and The Spy next Door. The director on this particular flick is an interesting choice. It's Michael Keaton, and in a way it's another Mister Mom variant, though this is the only one you need to watch if you remember those early nineties days of the rise of independent film.

I've spoken previously about this era, you witnessed a movement crowing about how innovative and original it was while producing ninety percent garbage. Oh sure, it was funded with credit cards and it looked like shit, and the plots in dialogue wouldn't have gotten past a studio reader. But hey man, they weren't Hollywood. That one percent of independent films were worthy of crowing about, but not in comparison to anything, certainly not the studios. Because at its heart, independent cinema is about dogged and obsessed weirdos who have to get their voices heard by any means necessary.

You dig show enough and knots goes away feel like the best of them. High on character and plot and low on set pieces and irrelevant action. It's s Nars Keaton as John Knox, a former military man and lifelong contract killer with a pension for philosophy who finds himself forced with a diagnosis of Kreutzfeld Jakob disease, an aggressive disorder that will sooner than later lead to memory loss, visual hallucinations, dementia, and potentially coma. Since this is the least opportune moment for anything to go wrong in his life, his son, played fucking phenomenally by James Marsden, comes back into his life after shunning him for twenty odd years, and he's just murdered a thirty year old predator who's been seeing his teenage daughter.

There is a dogged detective played by Susie Nakamura on both their trails. There's also a pissed off crime boss because Knox bundled a job due to his neurodegenerate affliction, accidentally killing two civilians. And there's Knox's own slowly slipping consciousness. If this isn't a movie with a clock, then no movie is. It's a fairly breathless two hours that bristle with some beautiful photography, twists every which way in a central performance by Keaton that feels like the culmination of a career.

He should have gotten an oscar at least a nomination. They'll probably wait till he releases his own Yankee Doodle Dandy. Both of these films are currently on HBO. Max Knox Goes Away and Goodrich. If you feel like a trilogy, check out his villainous turn in The Little Steen Action or The Protege.

That one stars Maggie q delivering on all the promise she showed as a supporting actor for all those years as an assassin trying to take down the men that killed her. Mentor Samuel Jackson Keaton is her antagonist, a mercenary high to keep that man safe by hunting her down. And it's a romance and it's a way more interesting and true than that, mister and missus Smith nonsense. And it's written by Richard Wank, who wrote and directed one of my favorite vampire films of the nineteen eighties, Vamp starring Grace Jones. Let's say you don't want to leave the confines of HBO and seek out the protege, Well, then stick around on HBO and go to Turner Classic Movies.

They have the Roaring Twenties and that is my favorite Warner Brothers gangster film of all time. I'll end on a piece of dialogue from that film. As a matter of fact, is everyone fully keating to? Now? How about Cagney?

Well that'll be another show, I guess. Check us out on Monday. It's the latest and hammer House of Horror Action with our co host Mike White. If you want to support the show, please head over to patreon dot com, slash Father Alone, or if you're feeling the pinch, you can just like the show on the podcatcher of choice. Maybe give us a good review or share it on social media.

Don't make me, come on you, come on, come on for ripley geane. I'm Father Alone until next time. Try to enjoy the daylight. Oh lawyer, huh? Can you think of anything?

Get us out of this. Hole, wouldn't it be? Could beat one of them guys that kids allowed us back home? And I want to get over here and then go and get the tough day fold up. Shuah, I'm talking again.

I'm talking to you. I don't like heroes out big mouths. We're all scared. Why shouldn't we be? What do you think we're using this wall?

Water pistols? All right, kid, I like guys who answered themselves. Stay that way. Come on, it looks like it's quiet And