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!

Gee whiz, folks, it’s time for a brand-new episode of The Rotten Horror Picture Show Podcast, and this week Clay and Amanda are talking about one of the all-time greats of old-school creature features — The Blob from 1958! You know the one — that big ol’ red goo from outer space that slurps its way through small-town America, eating everything (and everyone) in its path. It’s the movie that made a young Steve McQueen a star and gave teenagers everywhere another reason not to trust meteorites. Clay and Amanda dig into the film’s low-budget charm, its clever special effects, and why it’s still such a perfect slice of drive-in-era horror. A monster that’s literally just a blob shouldn’t be scary — and yet somehow, it’s terrifying.

Now, I gotta be honest with you — as I am a teenager from the year 1958, this whole “podcast” thing? It gives me the willies. I mean, what is it, exactly? They say you listen to it on “the internet,” but I don’t even know where that is. I looked behind my radio — nothing. Tried turning the TV knobs real slow — still nothing. Apparently, it’s just floating around in the air, like… invisible radio waves, but for computers? And people are out there “streaming” it? Buddy, the only thing I want streaming near me is a nice cold root beer down at the soda fountain.

But I’ll tell ya, Clay and Amanda sure know their monster movies. They’ve got that hep-cat way of breaking down the scares, the science fiction, and the cultural panic of the atomic age. If you can figure out how to “download” it — whatever that means — you’re in for a swell time. Just, uh… maybe keep an eye on your record player. I heard The Blob likes to start small.

And be sure to catch our coverage of the remake over at Patreon.com/thepenskyfile!

his week on The Rotten Horror Picture Show Podcast, Clay and Amanda dive into one of the wildest, weirdest experiments in modern cinema: 2007’s Grindhouse, the double-feature mashup from Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino. On one side you’ve got Rodriguez’s gooey, gonzo Planet Terror, a zombie-action extravaganza filled with melting bodies, exploding heads, and a machine gun leg. On the other, Tarantino’s Death Proof, a talky, tense, and brutal slasher on wheels starring Kurt Russell as a stuntman with murderous intentions. Throw in some fake trailers from the likes of Edgar Wright, Rob Zombie, and Eli Roth, and what you’ve got is a love letter to trash cinema that’s messy, ambitious, and unlike anything else that’s come out of Hollywood in the last twenty years. Clay and Amanda unpack what worked, what didn’t, and why the whole package still holds a strange place in horror fans’ hearts.

Now, that’s all well and good, but I have to admit something: when I heard they were covering Grindhouse, my brain went in a totally different direction. Because to me, “Grind” means one thing — MTV’s The Grind, the sweaty, neon-soaked, mid-’90s dance party beamed into homes across America every afternoon. You know the one — crop tops, Jock Jams, people doing the Macarena under pulsating strobe lights. Honestly, I thought Clay and Amanda were about to drop the definitive podcast documentary on Eric Nies’ greatest cultural contribution. Imagine my disappointment when it turned out to be about exploding pustules and creepy stuntmen instead of body glitter and choreographed hip thrusts.

Still, horror fans are in for a treat, even if my dance nostalgia remains tragically unmet. Join Clay and Amanda as they revisit Grindhouse—just, you know, the blood-soaked one, not the bass-thumping one.

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 Podcast, Clay and Amanda are tackling a film that might just be the most confusing sequel in horror history: Mike Flanagan’s Doctor Sleep (2019). Now, don’t get me wrong — it’s a solid, spooky ride with Ewan McGregor as an older Danny Torrance, still haunted by the Overlook and trying to cope with his powers. But here’s the thing: is this a sequel to *The Shining* the book? Or *The Shining* the movie? Or some strange in-between hybrid stitched together with ghostly typewriters and whiskey breath? Because I swear, every time I try to explain it to someone, I feel like I need a chalkboard, some red string, and a shot of bourbon.

On the one hand, Doctor Sleep is based on Stephen King’s novel of the same name, which itself was written as a direct sequel to his original Shining book. That means we’re supposed to be following King’s continuity — the one where the Overlook Hotel burned to the ground at the end. But on the other hand, Flanagan clearly loves Kubrick’s *film*, and he goes out of his way to make *Doctor Sleep* visually and tonally connect to that version. Which means the Overlook is still standing, the carpet patterns are back, and suddenly it feels like we’re living in a cinematic multiverse before Marvel made it cool.

Clay and Amanda dive into all this messy, fascinating crossover territory — breaking down how Flanagan managed to honor both King and Kubrick, while still creating something that stands on its own. They’ll also talk about Rebecca Ferguson’s terrifyingly charismatic performance as Rose the Hat, creepy steam-slurping cults, and what happens when childhood trauma grows up with you.

Me? I’m still stuck asking: so wait… which Shining is this shining shining from?

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 Podcast, things are going to sound a little different. Amanda’s not here, which means Clay is flying solo — and that alone has me feeling… well, a little nervous. Don’t get me wrong, Clay knows his horror inside and out. He’s got the knowledge, the wit, and the enthusiasm to carry a show, no doubt about it. But Amanda’s the one who keeps things balanced. She’s the counterpoint, the voice of reason, the one who’ll call Clay out when he gets too deep into some cinematic rabbit hole about killer dolls or obscure slashers from the ‘70s. Without her? I just don’t know how this is going to feel. Like eating peanut butter without jelly. Or watching Jaws without the shark.

That said, Clay’s not just rambling into the void. He’s using this opportunity to do something special: take listener questions and give a quick rundown of some horror movies he’s been watching lately. That means you’re going to get Clay’s raw, unfiltered opinions on a whole stack of films — the good, the bad, and the so-bizarre-it ’s-worth-watching-anyway. He’ll dig into what’s been keeping him up at night, what deserves a spot on your watchlist, and maybe even what deserves to be avoided at all costs. Listener questions give him a chance to dive into topics that don’t always make it into regular episodes, which is pretty fun.

Still, I can’t help but feel like Amanda’s absence is looming large. Her takes, her insights, her way of steering the conversation in unexpected directions — that’s what makes the show click. So while Clay’s holding it down this week, I’ll just be sitting here, missing Amanda’s voice, waiting for the dynamic duo to reunite next time.

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!

Clay and Amanda are back with a brand-new episode of The Rotten Horror Picture Show Podcast, and this time they’re diving into Candyman (2021), the haunting remake-slash-sequel directed by Nia DaCosta. This isn’t just a rehash of the original 1992 horror classic — it’s a smart, visually stunning continuation that weaves in the legend of Candyman with new layers of social commentary about art, trauma, race, and gentrification. Featuring Yahya Abdul-Mateen II in a chilling lead performance, some inventive shadow-puppet storytelling, and a tone that’s equal parts eerie and poetic, it’s a film that honors its roots while creating something wholly its own. Of course, it also brings back one other key ingredient from the original: bees. Lots and lots of bees.

And that’s where things get… complicated for me. See, I’ve got a bit of a history with bees — one bee in particular. His name was Barry. And Barry the Bee? He ran away with my wife. I know, I know, it sounds ridiculous. But it happened. One day she’s talking about how “cute” and “funny” he is, and the next, she’s gone. Off to some flower-filled meadow in the countryside, I assume. Ever since, I can’t look at bees without feeling a mix of fear, rage, and heartbreak. So when this movie started throwing bees at me left and right, all I could think was, “Here we go again. First my wife, now my peace of mind.”

Still, Clay and Amanda make it worth pushing through my insect-related PTSD. Their discussion breaks down how the film connects to the original, why its horror feels so timely, and how Nia DaCosta’s direction elevates the material. I just wish they’d warn me when the next bee movie is coming. Barry’s still out there. I can feel it.

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!