This week on The Rotten Horror Picture Show Podcast, Clay and Amanda are celebrating a major milestone in horror history: the 100th anniversary of the 1925 silent film classic The Phantom of the Opera. Starring the legendary Lon Chaney in one of the most iconic monster performances ever put on film, this adaptation helped define cinematic horror, gothic atmosphere, and studio-era spectacle. Clay and Amanda dig into the film’s legacy, its influence on everything from Universal’s monster cycle to modern horror aesthetics, and why Chaney’s Phantom remains haunting a full century later. It’s a birthday worth celebrating — even if I’m still trying to wrap my head around the basic concept.

Because I have a question. A very serious one. Why — why — would you make a silent movie** about the opera? Opera is music! It’s singing! It’s loud! It’s dramatic people hitting notes so high it feels like glass might shatter. And yet here we are, watching a movie where everyone is passionately gesturing at each other in total silence while title cards politely explain that someone is singing their heart out. I keep expecting the Phantom to burst into song, only for a piano to gently tinkle in the background like, “Trust us, it’s happening.”

Still, despite my confusion, there’s no denying the magic. The sets are enormous, the shadows are gorgeous, and Lon Chaney’s transformation into the Phantom is pure movie sorcery. Clay and Amanda walk through how the film used visuals to replace sound, turning music into movement and emotion into imagery. They talk about the famous unmasking, the tragedy of Erik the Phantom, and how the film somehow makes opera feel loud even when you can’t hear a note.

So join them in honoring 100 years of The Phantom of the Opera. I may not hear the music, but apparently… that’s the point.

And don't forget to head over to patreon.com/thepenskyfile to follow Clay and Amanda down the muddy path of remakes and reboots too!

This week on The Rotten Horror Picture Show, Clay and Amanda turn their attention to one of the freshest cult sensations of the decade: Late Night With the Devil — the stylish, sinister, ‘70s-soaked horror throwback that asks, “What if Johnny Carson accidentally unleashed a demon on live television?” Directed by Cameron and Colin Cairnes, the film recreates the world of late-night TV with uncanny detail, following a desperate talk-show host whose Halloween special goes catastrophically, supernaturally wrong. Clay and Amanda dive into its practical effects, its pitch-perfect retro aesthetic, its creeping dread, and its weaponization of the sleazy charm of vintage broadcast entertainment. It’s a tour de force of atmosphere, performance, and good old-fashioned demonic chaos.

Now, that’s all very impressive — truly, I’m thrilled for everyone involved — but can someone please explain why I keep getting bumped for the devil? I’ve been backstage for three nights. Three. Nights. I’ve got stories prepped, I’ve got my best blazer steamed, I’ve got anecdotes about my childhood goldfish that kill in front of an audience. And yet, every time the stage manager pokes his head into my dressing room, it’s the same thing:

“Hey buddy, really sorry, but… the devil’s here again.”

Again!

Look, I get it. He’s a big draw. Lots of fire, lots of screaming, lots of the whole “endless abyss of torment” routine. Very flashy. Very ratings-friendly. But I’m starting to take it a little personally. I didn’t realize my segment titled “Fun Facts About Squirrels” was so easily overshadowed by Beelzebub himself.

So while Clay and Amanda explore the tension, terror, and uncanny authenticity of Late Night With the Devil, just know I’ll be sitting here, crossing my legs politely, holding my mug of lukewarm coffee, waiting for my moment that will never come.

But sure — fine — let the devil have the spotlight again. I hope he at least promotes the podcast.

And don't forget to head over to patreon.com/thepenskyfile to follow Clay and Amanda down the muddy path of remakes and reboots too!"

Thanks!

This week on The Rotten Horror Picture Show Podcast, Clay and Amanda are diving deep into one of the most haunting, beautifully crafted horror films of the 2000s: A Tale of Two Sisters (2003), the South Korean psychological masterpiece from director Kim Jee-woon. It’s a chilling, twisty story about two sisters returning home after time away in a mental institution — only to find their house filled with secrets, ghosts, and a deeply unsettling stepmother. Clay and Amanda explore its stunning cinematography, emotional depth, and how its story of grief and trauma slowly unravels into something much darker. It’s elegant, tragic, and terrifying all at once — a cornerstone of early-2000s Asian horror.

Now, that all sounds great and everything… but I gotta be honest with you — I grew up with brothers. Three of ‘em. Loud, smelly, cereal-devouring, video game-hoarding brothers. So, when I hear “a tale of two sisters,” I can’t help but feel like I’m watching some kind of mysterious alien ritual. Sisters whispering secrets? Dressing each other’s wounds? Comforting each other through unimaginable trauma? My brothers used to communicate exclusively in punches and burps. The only haunting in our house was the lingering smell of socks.

I’m sitting there watching this movie thinking, “Okay, they’re clearly bonded by something powerful and emotional… but where’s the scene where they fight over who gets the last slice of pizza?” Still, even if I can’t relate, I’ve gotta admit — the film’s atmosphere got under my skin. Clay and Amanda dig into what makes it so effective, from its slow-burn pacing to its gut-punch finale that flips everything you thought you knew upside down.

So, yeah. I might not get sisters — but I get a good ghost story. And this one? It’ll haunt you, no matter how many brothers you’ve got.

And don't forget to head over to patreon.com/thepenskyfile to follow Clay and Amanda down the muddy path of remakes and reboots too!