A weekly podcast discussing the weekly Game of Thrones prequel, House of the Dragon

When the House of Mouse scooped up Lucasfilm and the whole shimmering STAR WARS galaxy, fans practically twirled their lightsabers in delight. At long last, the Skywalker saga would get its final trio of tales, and the universe would stretch outward like a hyperspace jump with no end in sight. Then The Mandalorian swaggered onto the scene, and suddenly everyone had a new space-cowboy obsession—plus a tiny green heart‑stealer soon christened Grogu, who promptly became the galaxy’s smallest cultural supernova. But after The Book of Boba Fett and a wobblier third season of The Mandalorian, the shine began to dull, and even the Skywalker finale left many feeling like they’d stepped on a LEGO brick in the dark.

Still, a question hovered in the air like a hologram: did Grogu—and to a slightly lesser degree his helmeted dad—still hold enough goodwill to charm audiences back into theaters? 2026 was set to answer that cosmic riddle with the first STAR WARS film to hit the big screen in seven years: The Mandalorian and Grogu. IMDB summed it up with a wink of simplicity: once a solitary bounty hunter, Din Djarin now ventures into a fresh adventure with his pint‑sized apprentice, ready to stir up trouble, wonder, and probably a few merchandising opportunities.

Jon Favreau directed the film from a script he crafted alongside Dave Filoni and Noah Kloor, assembling a cast that reunited Pedro Pascal while adding Jeremy Allen White and Sigourney Weaver to the mix. Critics offered everything from polite nods to warm applause, while audiences tended to beam a bit brighter—yet the film still struggled to recoup its hefty budget, falling short of the blockbuster hopes Disney had pinned to it. Now your co‑hosts dive into this star‑studded space romp, sharing their thoughts on whether this latest chapter rekindles the magic or simply drifts among the cosmic dust.

A weekly podcast discussing the weekly Game of Thrones prequel, House of the Dragon

Charlize Theron has never been one to shy away from genre mayhem, and by 2026 she’s practically the patron saint of stylish cinematic chaos. From The Devil’s Advocate to Prometheus to Mad Max: Fury Road, she’s battled demons, aliens, and post‑apocalyptic warlords — so naturally her next move was to wander into the Australian wilderness for Netflix’s APEX. Released on April 24th, 2026, it’s the kind of film where you can practically feel the sunburn and existential dread radiating through the screen, and your cohosts have bravely volunteered to trek through it.

Rotten Tomatoes keeps things succinct: “A grieving woman testing her limits in the Australian wilderness is suddenly ensnared in a deadly game with a ruthless predator.” Which is a polite way of saying, “Charlize Theron goes camping and immediately regrets it.” The setup promises equal parts emotional turmoil and tooth‑and‑claw terror — the cinematic equivalent of a nature retreat brochure that forgets to mention the part where something might try to eat you.

Directed by Baltasar Kormákur and written by Jeremy Robbins, APEX also features Taron Egerton, who apparently decided to steal every scene not nailed down. With a budget floating somewhere between $60–$80M USD, critics have been shrugging in polite confusion while audiences shrug a little harder. Joined by actor Dan Lench of MaXXXine fame, your cohosts dive into this survival‑horror outing and share their thoughts — hopefully without getting metaphorically mauled in the process.

Sometimes a movie comes along that refuses to sit neatly in any one box, and COBWEB (2023) is exactly that kid at the genre lunch table — the one stirring their mashed potatoes while whispering, “I’m totally a horror film… probably.” Is it supernatural? Is it psychological? Is it just your imagination tapping politely on the wall at 3 a.m.? No one seems to know, and your co‑hosts certainly don’t pretend to. They’re just along for the ride, clutching their popcorn and questioning their life choices.

Rotten Tomatoes offers a synopsis that is equal parts spooky and “should we call someone?”: eight‑year‑old Peter keeps hearing a mysterious tap, tap from inside his bedroom wall, which his parents insist is nothing but his imagination. Naturally, as Peter’s fear grows, he begins to suspect that Mom and Dad — played by Lizzy Caplan and Antony Starr — might be hiding a terrible secret. And honestly, for a child, what’s more terrifying than realizing your parents might be the real monsters? Forget ghosts; try explaining that at show‑and‑tell.

Directed by Samuel Bodin and written by Chris Thomas Devlin (yes, the same mind behind Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2022), the film stars Lizzy Caplan, Cleopatra Coleman, Antony Starr, and young Woody Norman. Critics were split, audiences were slightly kinder, and the box office… well, the box office politely declined, with the movie earning under $8M on a $10M budget. But financial success isn’t everything — sometimes a film is just weird enough, creepy enough, and ambiguous enough to earn a cult following. Your co‑hosts dive into this odd little cinematic riddle and share their thoughts, tapping gently on the walls of the plot to see what answers fall out.

So here it is at last: the sequel, the fourth entry, the cinematic cousin twice removed — 28 YEARS LATER: THE BONE TEMPLE (2026). Whereas its predecessor strutted into theaters and made off with a tidy profit, The Bone Temple stumbled in, tripped over its own shoelaces, and spilled popcorn everywhere. Whether it was secretly brilliant or just misunderstood, the numbers don’t lie: $58.5M earned on a $63M budget. In Hollywood terms, that’s the equivalent of showing up to a potluck with an empty casserole dish and hoping no one notices. A flop it was.

IMDB offers a plot description so brief it feels like it was written on a Post‑it: “As Spike is inducted into Jimmy Crystal’s gang on the mainland, Dr. Kelson makes a discovery that could alter the world.” Short, sweet, and suspiciously vague — like the cinematic equivalent of someone whispering, “Trust me, it’ll make sense later,” while backing slowly into the shadows. But hey, sometimes mystery is part of the charm, or at least part of the marketing.

And was it actually a great film, despite audiences collectively deciding to stay home and alphabetize their spice racks instead? Well, it was directed by Nia DaCosta, working from a script by the ever‑brilliant Alex Garland, which is already a promising cocktail. Jack O’Connell throws himself into a gloriously unhinged role, only to be effortlessly overshadowed by Ralph Fiennes, who returns as the enigmatic doctor and proceeds to act like he’s in a much better movie — which, according to critics, he might have been. Your cohosts dive into this critically adored, commercially ignored entry in the franchise and share their thoughts, with all the enthusiasm of people who definitely did not skip it in theaters.

Sometimes a book-to-film adaptation tiptoes onto the big screen and politely asks for your attention — and then there’s THE HOUSEMAID, which in late 2025 kicked down the door, winked at the audience, and became a runaway hit. What began as a novel marketed squarely to women suddenly transformed into a blockbuster for, well, anyone over 18 with a taste for psychological chaos and Sydney Sweeney giving the camera that “I know something you don’t” stare. Amanda Seyfried joined the party, too, because why not make things even more deliciously unhinged.

IMDB sums it up with admirable restraint: Millie, a struggling young woman, becomes a live‑in maid for a wealthy couple, Nina and Andrew, and promptly finds herself in a mansion stuffed with secrets, manipulation, and psychological games. In other words, it’s less “dust the shelves” and more “try not to get emotionally vaporized by your employers.” The house itself practically deserves its own billing — every hallway feels like it’s whispering, “Turn back now,” but of course Millie does not.

Directed by Paul Feig — yes, the same Paul Feig who gave us Bridesmaids and apparently woke up one day and chose psychological warfare — and written for the screen by Rebecca Sonnenshine, the film also stars Brandon Sklenar as the male lead who may or may not be part of the problem (spoiler: he is). With a modest $35M budget and a swaggering $400M box‑office haul, the movie charmed critics, thrilled audiences, and probably made Freida McFadden, the author of the novel, do a very happy victory lap. Now your cohosts dive into the madness and share their thoughts, hopefully without getting pulled into any dangerous relationship dynamics themselves.

No one has ever accused Mel Gibson of being unable to play an action hero, and HUNTING SEASON (2025) seems determined to underline that point with a thick, permanent marker. This time around, he’s a quiet, off‑the‑grid dad living in a rural town where the most exciting thing should be the annual bake sale. But when his daughter stumbles upon a mysterious, half‑dead woman on their wooded property, the universe apparently decides it’s time to flip the “chaos” switch to ON.

IMDb sums it up with: “When a reclusive survivalist and his daughter rescue a mysterious, wounded woman from a river, they become entangled in a deadly web of violence and revenge, forcing them to confront a brutal criminal to survive.” In other words, it’s your classic tale of “I just wanted to be left alone, but fate delivered a plot twist to my doorstep,” complete with danger, vengeance, and the kind of criminal you definitely don’t invite to Thanksgiving.

Written by Adam Hampton and directed by RJ Collins, the film stars Gibson alongside Sofia Hublitz of OZARK fame and Shelly Hennig from UNFRIENDED. Despite a limited theatrical release, the movie has earned a warm reception from both critics and audiences—proof that sometimes all you need is a grizzled hero, a perilous forest, and a dash of revenge. Your cohosts at Dark Discussions Podcast dive into Gibson’s latest adventure and share their thoughts on this wilderness‑flavored thriller.