Little Judy Garland wins friends and kills witches dead in her vain attempts to just find a way back to Kansas. I compare the movie extensively to the original novel. I explain the concept of a frame story and the minor inconsistencies in the plot, like the troublesome character of Professor Marvel. I use the word brilliant too much. I ponder the possibility that the Wicked Witch is ethnically a Winkie and wonder why the Good Witch isn’t ethnically a Munchkin.

I bust a few myths, like the one about the hanged stage hand and the one about the “Oh-ee-oh” song. I suggest that Playboy, if it had been around in 1939, might have done a pictorial of the “Girls of the Emerald City Wash & Brush Up Co.” I compare the Wicked Witch to Jaws. I suggest that the movie should have been remade in 1985 with Arnold Schwarzenegger. And I beg children not the follow the film’s advice of not looking for a better life beyond your own back yard.

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Secret Service agent Michael Douglas squares off against Kiefer Sutherland while Eva Longoria looks on. I compare the film to In the Line of Fire, the main point being that, here, the hero is “secretly serving” the first lady and not his partner. I explain my Kiefer Sutherland Rule of Cinema. I wonder how a guy like Walter Xavier even keeps up on the sports scores, let alone gets information about an assassination plot.

I also explain every detail of the White House interiors, given my intimate familiarity, including where the director and producer are wrong in their commentary and how the Secret Service offices seem to be as big as the entire rest of the West Wing. I offer choice tidbits of presidential history and the origin of Camp David. And I contemplate the possibility that the Canadian mounties fingerprinted Paul Bunyan in 1875.

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It’s Arnold and Arnold in an action adventure that probes the delicate social issues of the day and shoots them with lasers! I compare the film to Total Recall, Minority Report, James Bond, Frankenstein, and others. I mix up my Michaels. I get totally creeped out by the Simpal Cindy doll. I point out how Schwarzenegger’s character is simultaneously a technophobe and a technophile, depending on which tech you present him with. I ponder the fever for the flavor of a nacho banana. I raise the delicate question of why Judi Dench is never cast in this kind of film. I point out plot holes such as “why does any of this happen?”

I boldly postulate that the bad guys are not nearly as bad as some of the good guys. I also boldly postulate that Michael Rappaport is not a cat person, but I may still have him mixed up with Michael Rooker or possibly Michael Ironside. I make the mistake of saying that Adam 1 got a RePet instead of a Simpal Cindy, when both Adam 1 and Adam 2 got Simpals. Plus: free advice to young filmmakers and mad industrialists!

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Join me for what is not my favorite movie but nevertheless a classic part of the Schwarzenegger oeuvre. I compare it to The 6th Day and other films and explain where it goes off the rails regardless of which story you believe: the dream story, the reality story, or the alternate reality story, or even the alternate-alternate reality story.

I pity the poor rats. I try to find the point the movie may stray from reality. I say “If this is reality…” too many times and get distracted by Sharon Stone. And I get carried away with saying that Paul Verhoeven got carried away with the head games. I don’t bother much with the “science”, but I do make fun of Cohaagen’s henchmen being the worst secret agents ever. And, at some point, I believe I may have suffered a schizoid embolism.

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Join me for a great romantic comedy/thriller from 1978 starring Goldie Hawn and Chevy Chase. Hawn fends off the world with a yellow umbrella. Chase embraces the world clumsily. Dudley Moore tries to screw the world unsuccessfully. The pope thinks The Mikado is supposed to end with dead guys hanging from the mast of a ship from another production. Maybe he just thinks it’s “far out.” I compare the film to other romantic comedies and other thrillers as well as to Far Out Space Nuts.

I don’t talk quite as much in this one, but I think the observations are a little richer insights into theme, character, and plotting, and not narrating the scenes so much. I forget to mention that the title is a play on words, since the assassination attempt occurs during a stage performance—a comic opera, actually, but Foul Opera would sound silly. I did slip in a mention in editing that the setup is borrowed from The Man Who Knew Too Much.

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Ooh la la! An attempt at doing a commentary on a film I’ve never seen before. I watch this Fellini classic for the very first time, recording my amusement, confusion, frustration, and eventual disappointment. If you already know and love the film, laugh at my provincial attitude. If you hate it, laugh with me while I try desperately to enjoy it. I mention how the word paparazzi comes from the character of Paparazzo. I consider how much I like Marcello Mastroianni in principle. I mock how ridiculous “Casanova Xavier” is as a name for an American rock-and-roller. I misidentify Bach’s “Toccata and Fugue in D Minor” as “…G Minor” (but what are a few letters between friends?) I’m moved by the tragedy that develops, but ultimately feel that it is squandered, which may have been Fellini’s point, for all I know.

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