This week, Adam and Brian bring you a family-friendly double feature, Late Fee Files heads back to the ’90s for two comedies about reluctant father figures, messy road trips, and the awkward journey of bonding. First up is Dutch (1991), the John Hughes–penned tale of a well-meaning working-class guy who tries to connect with his girlfriend’s snobbish son on a disastrous cross-country trip.
Then we switch coasts for Man of the House (1995), where Chevy Chase battles mobsters, tribal rites, and a suspicious preteen in a lighthearted stepdad-in-training story. We compare the laughs, sentiment, performances, and why these movies resonate differently today. Dust off the VHS and join us as we revisit a pair of ’90s comedies that prove fatherhood can be both ugly and hilarious!
Adam and Brian plop down on the couch and crack open a double-feature of John Ritter deep cuts, two movies that couldn’t be more different on paper yet somehow feel spiritually linked in their strange, scrappy, late-night-cable energy. First up is Stay Tuned, the warped TV-hell satire where Ritter and Pam Dawber literally battle for their souls through a gauntlet of twisted channel parodies. We dig into the film’s cartoonish visual inventiveness, its ahead-of-its-time media cynicism, and why Ritter’s everyman charm still anchors the madness.
Then we jump over to Real Men, the offbeat buddy sci-fi spy comedy that pairs Ritter with Jim Belushi for a genre-smashing adventure full of deadpan absurdity, alien negotiations, and oddly sincere self-help vibes. We explore its cult appeal, its chaotic tonal mash-ups, and how the film manages to be both incredibly 80s and completely unlike anything else from that era.
Hand over the remote, grab your chips, and get ready for a wild adventure through space, time, and television.
This week on Late Fee Files, we dive into two sides of John Carpenter’s cinematic evil: the cold, creeping apocalypse of Prince of Darkness and the sunburned savagery of John Carpenter’s Vampires. From the claustrophobic church basement where science meets the supernatural to the brutal desert battlegrounds of vampire hunters and sinners, we trace Carpenter’s shifting vision of faith, corruption, and survival. We’ll unpack Prince of Darkness’ cosmic nihilism, Vampires’ grimy Western attitude, and how both films reflect a director wrestling with belief in a godless world. It’s holy water meets quantum physics, and Carpenter’s darkness reigns in both
It's Halloween season, so Adam and Brian venture into the shadowy tunnels of 1990s creature features .
First up: The Relic (1997) — Peter Hyams’ Field Museum nightmare based on the Preston & Child novel — where a chimeric creature stalks the halls and the hosts unpack its practical effects, museum-set atmosphere, and how the film balances spectacle with a grim, pulpy heart.
Then they dig into Guillermo del Toro’s Mimic (1997) — a grimy, gothic insect tale born from studio friction and a singular directorial vision. Brian and Adam compare del Toro’s early visual language to the creature cinema of the era, explore the film’s production backstory, and talk about how both movies reflect different shades of 90s genre filmmaking.
Whether you’re here for practical monsters, behind-the-scenes lore, or the weird ways genre films age, this episode pairs two underrated ’90s creature features and asks: what survives when the labs close and the lights go down?
This week on Late Fee Files, we’re checking out two very different shades of L.A. crime noir. First up, Steven Soderbergh’s The Limey (1999), where Terence Stamp shows up in California looking for some sweet revenge. Then we go back in time to Devil in a Blue Dress (1995), where Denzel Washington plays Easy Rawlins, a man just trying to pay the mortgage who gets drawn into political scandals and encounters more than one racist POS.
It’s stylish revenge, moody noir, and enough tough-guy one-liners to keep you rewinding the tape to make sure you heard them right. And if you don’t return this one on time, don’t worry—Terence Stamp will personally come knocking.
Alright, this week’s double feature is a trip straight to the “yeah, we’ll rent it, why not” section of the store: If Looks Could Kill (1991) and National Lampoon’s Senior Trip (1995). First up, Richard Grieco—fresh off 21 Jump Street and apparently allergic to subtlety—plays a high schooler who accidentally becomes a spy in a Euro-thriller so overcooked it feels like Bond fan fiction written in detention.
Then we’ve got Senior Trip, a stoner road comedy that’s basically every “what if my friends ran the government” daydream you had scribbled in your high school notebook. It’s got Jeremy Renner before he was Hawkeye, Tommy Chong being very much Tommy Chong. The kind of movie that smells like spilled Mountain Dew and VHS plastic.
So grab your rewinder, because this week’s rentals are bargain-bin Bond and a bus ride to nowhere—and yes, you’re already late, so the fee’s on us.
Some movies feel like they got left behind on the rental shelf, even though they had plenty to say. This week we’re talking about two of them: Angus (1995) and Better Off Dead (1985).
Angus is one of those rare ‘90s teen movies that actually takes its main character seriously — smart, funny, painfully awkward, just trying to make it through high school without getting crushed. It’s heartfelt in ways you don’t usually see in a studio teen comedy, and it’s still as sharp today as it was when you first stumbled across it on cable.
Then there’s Better Off Dead, which feels like somebody handed John Cusack a teen rom-com and said, “Let’s make it weird.” Claymation hamburgers, a ski slope duel, and a relentless paperboy demanding two bucks — it’s absurd, but underneath the chaos, it’s still about heartbreak, moving on, and figuring yourself out.
Together, these films paint two very different pictures of teen life, but both capture that mix of humor and heartbreak that makes coming-of-age stories stick with you. We’ll break down what makes them memorable, why they never quite got the spotlight they deserved, and why they’re still worth pressing play on.
And hey — if you don’t listen, we’re sending the paperboy to collect.
In this episode of Late Fee Files, we rewind to the early ’90s and late ’80s for two cult classics that mix action, attitude, and unexpected heart. First up is Kuffs (1992), where Christian Slater breaks the fourth wall as a wisecracking drifter who inherits a private police district and gets in way over his head. Then, we dive into Gleaming the Cube (1989), the skateboarding mystery-thriller that cemented Slater’s status as the king of cool, complete with high-speed board stunts and a surprisingly dark conspiracy. We break down the wild plots, memorable moments, and the way both films embody their era’s blend of rebellion and charm—plus, we dig into why they’ve held onto their cult status decades later.
So grab your board and get ready to drop in with us!
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This week on Late Fee Files, Brian and Adam dial into two '90s hostage thrillers packed with tension, attitude, and A-list charisma: The Negotiator (1998) and Metro (1997).
They break down Samuel L. Jackson’s masterclass in controlled chaos in The Negotiator, and Eddie Murphy’s underrated turn as a street-smart hostage negotiator in Metro — a rare dramatic outing that still packs laughs and firepower.
From over-the-top negotiation tactics to explosive finales, the guys dive into what made this subgenre peak in the late '90s, why these two films deserve a second look, and how both leads brought their own signature style to the crisis movie formula.
Negotiations are over. Press play.
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Kicking down the doors of forgotten cinema, Adam and Brian launch Late Fee Files with a double feature of ‘90s adrenaline and chaos: Judgment Night (1993) and Trespass (1992).
They dive into the grime-soaked tension, rooftop standoffs, and criminal underworlds of two cult thrillers that defined an era of urban warfare on VHS. From the genre-blending brilliance of Judgment Night’s rap-rock soundtrack to the moral murkiness of Trespass, the hosts unpack why these films deserve a second life—and a second look.
If you’ve ever rented something based on the cover art alone, this episode’s for you. Welcome to Late Fee Files. Pop the tab, press play, and don’t get caught after dark.
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