SOUND SESSIONS 03/31/2026 presenting the St. Patrick's Day episode

06/01/2026 reviewing OBSESSION with Sean Boelman

One of the most fascinating developments in modern filmmaking is the rise of directors whose careers began not in film school or the studio system, but on YouTube. Armed with digital cameras, editing software, and a direct connection to audiences, a new generation of filmmakers has emerged—many of whom possess remarkable technical skill. They understand pacing, editing, visual composition, and how to command attention. What remains less certain is whether those same skills translate into compelling cinematic storytelling. That brings us to Obsession. Written and directed by Alabama native Curry Barker, Obsession has become one of the surprise success stories of the year. Produced on a modest budget and propelled by enthusiastic word-of-mouth, the film has resonated with audiences looking for something original in a marketplace increasingly dominated by sequels and established franchises. And there is much to admire here. Barker demonstrates a keen eye for composition, editing, and atmosphere. He understands how to create tension. He understands how to stage a moment. And perhaps most importantly, he understands how to keep an audience engaged. But filmmaking and screenwriting are not the same discipline. For all of its visual confidence, Obsession often feels like a collection of strong ideas searching for a stronger story. The film offers memorable moments, unsettling imagery, and a clever variation on the classic Monkey's Paw concept, yet those moments frequently feel as though they were designed to punctuate a more fully developed screenplay rather than serve as the foundation for one. Today, we'll discuss where the film succeeds, where it falls short, and whether Obsession represents the arrival of a major new filmmaker—or simply a talented visual storyteller still learning the fundamentals of dramatic construction. Joining me once again is returning guest and friend of the show, film critic Sean Boelman, editor at FandomWire and member of the Critics Choice Association.

ReelTalk 05/11/2026 reviewing MORTAL KOMBAT II with Robert Yaniz

On this episode of ReelTalk, we are reviewing Mortal Kombat II. Video game movies have come a long way. For years, adaptations of beloved games struggled to capture what made their source material work in the first place. Filmmakers often seemed embarrassed by the games themselves—stripping away mythology, simplifying characters, or attempting to reinvent stories that audiences already loved. But Mortal Kombat II takes a different approach. Rather than apologizing for its origins, the film embraces them. This sequel understands that audiences don’t necessarily want realism from a Mortal Kombat movie. They want energy. They want spectacle. They want memorable characters, creative fight sequences, and just enough mythology to make the stakes feel real. And surprisingly enough, the film largely succeeds. The movie captures the spirit of the games while still functioning as an actual narrative rather than a collection of references and easter eggs. The characters feel connected to their video game roots, yet they also possess enough humanity and development to sustain a cinematic story. The settings evoke the iconic arenas longtime fans remember, but the world itself feels larger and more expansive than the games alone. Most importantly, the movie remembers something many blockbusters forget: Fun matters. This is not a film asking audiences to contemplate the meaning of existence. It is a summer popcorn movie designed to entertain—and it does so with confidence, energy, and a surprising amount of sincerity. Today, my guest and I are discussing Mortal Kombat II, why it works as both a sequel and a video game adaptation, and why embracing the identity of the source material may be the smartest thing the filmmakers could have done. Joining me for this episode is first-time guest film critic Robert Yaniz, host of the Franchise Detours Podcast.

ReelTalk 05/04/2026 reviewing THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA 2 with Sean Boelman

On this episode of ReelTalk...Twenty years after the original film became a cultural touchstone, the characters of Runway magazine return to a very different world—one defined not by glossy covers and editorial authority, but by layoffs, algorithms, and the steady erosion of traditional media. The Devil Wears Prada 2 attempts to grapple with that reality. The story places Miranda Priestly and her staff in the middle of a changing media landscape, where print magazines struggle to survive in a digital-first economy and editorial influence is increasingly dictated by advertisers and social media trends. On paper, that is compelling material. But the film’s central problem is not a lack of ideas—it is too many of them. It tries to comment on everything at once: the decline of print journalism, the tension between art and commerce, workplace culture, body image, and the ethics of the fashion industry. Each topic appears briefly, then disappears before it can be meaningfully explored. And in the process, something else disappears as well—the bite. What made the original film so memorable was its confidence, its energy, and its unapologetic sharpness. This sequel, by contrast, feels muted. The characters are recognizable, but softened—less daring, less decisive, less alive. So today, we’re going to talk about whether this sequel succeeds as a continuation of a beloved story—or whether it ultimately becomes a reflection of the very cultural decline it seeks to examine. Joining me once again is returning guest and friend of the show, film critic Sean Boelman, editor at FandomWire and member of the Critics Choice Association.

ReelTalk 04/27/2026 reviewing MICHAEL (2026)

On this episode of ReelTalk, we’re discussing a movie that arrives with enormous expectations, enormous talent, and—perhaps inevitably—enormous debate. Michael is, at its best, a spectacle. At its worst, it is a sequence of moments searching for a story to connect them. There is no question that the film delivers visually. The concert and music-video sequences are dazzling, meticulously staged recreations of performances that changed the course of popular music. And at the center of it all is Jaafar Jackson, whose portrayal of his uncle is so convincing at times that you forget you are watching an actor. Critics across the board have praised his ability to capture Michael’s look, voice, and movement—even when they found the storytelling lacking. But spectacle alone does not make a compelling biography. The film traces Michael’s journey from his childhood in Gary, Indiana, through his rise to global superstardom, yet it often feels less like a story and more like a highlight reel—moving quickly from one famous moment to the next without pausing to explore the emotional forces driving those moments. Some reviewers have noted that the movie “leaps from one event to the next without reflection or pause,” summarizing a mythology rather than examining a life. And that distinction matters—because a biopic is not just about what happened. It is about why it happened. It is about the human being behind the headlines. So, we’re going to talk about the film’s strengths—its energy, its music, its astonishing performance—and also its limitations as a piece of storytelling. And we’ll compare it to another music biopic that remains a gold standard for the genre: What's Love Got to Do with It (1993) Because while Michael may be the more spectacular experience, What’s Love Got to Do with It is, in many ways, the more compelling motion picture.

ReelTalk 04/06/2026 THE THING FROM ANOTHER WORLD 75th Anniversary with Sean Boelman

Seventy-five years ago, audiences walked into movie theaters expecting a monster movie—What they got instead was something far more unsettling. In 1951, The Thing from Another World arrived at a moment when the world itself felt uncertain. The Second World War had ended, the Cold War was beginning, and humanity was staring into the unknown—into the atomic age, into the skies above, and into the possibility that science might carry us farther than we were prepared to go. This was not the Gothic horror of castles and graveyards. This was modern horror. Scientific horror. Ideological horror. The monster in this film did not rise from superstition; it came from beyond our atmosphere. And that distinction mattered. Because for the first time, the threat on screen reflected a new kind of fear: not fear of the past, but fear of the future. As explored in Monsters, Madness, and Mayhem, this film sits at the crossroads of fascination and anxiety—where scientific progress collides with the primal instinct to survive. It’s a story driven not by revenge or malice, but by survival, by preservation, and by the consequences of failing to recognize danger when it stands right in front of us. And perhaps that is why the film still resonates seventy-five years later. Because beneath the Arctic ice, beneath the flying saucer, beneath the pulsing science fiction spectacle, lies a very human question: What happens when curiosity outruns caution? Today on ReelTalk, we’re celebrating the 75th anniversary of a film that helped define the modern science fiction horror movie—a film that transformed the monster from myth into metaphor, and helped usher in an era where the greatest fears were no longer supernatural…but ideological. Joining me once again is returning guest and friend of the show, film critic Sean Boelman—editor and contributor at FandomWire, member of the Critics Choice Association, and the Critics Association of Central Florida.