About
Two guys. One screen. Zero agreement.
The Reel Initiative is a podcast about the movies and board games that slipped through the cracks — titles that deserved more attention, more argument, more of an audience than they got.
Every episode, we pick one title. Michael makes his case with references you haven't heard of. Shawn pushes back with the perspective of someone who just wants to be entertained. Somewhere in the middle, something like a verdict emerges.
Think Siskel & Ebert energy, without the broadcast budget.
Let me be upfront about my credentials: other than one semester of Filmmaking at Los Angeles Valley College, I have no formal experience as a filmmaker. My expertise comes entirely from having watched — and I mean all of them. My friends have long observed that I'd be the smartest person in the world if I knew as much about the real world as I do about the fictional ones flickering across screens and splashed across comic book pages. It's been suggested that the most effective way to teach me anything is to format it as a title card and scroll it past me.
I understand that film is a visual medium — show, don't tell — but stunning lighting, inventive camera angles, and rich color grading aren't enough on their own. Neither is a great performance in isolation. My criteria is actually pretty simple. A film needs to do at least one of the following:
- Make me laugh.
- Give me genuine joy.
- Put me on the edge of my seat — through suspense, tension, or fear.
- Teach me something about the world I didn't already know — and make me care.
It all comes down to this: make me feel something. If a film can do that, it's done its job.
I am not a film snob. My tastes run mainstream, and I'm comfortable with that. What I'm not comfortable with is how low the bar has been set. I deeply miss the films of the 1970s, when a movie could delight audiences, satisfy critics, and turn a profit — all at the same time. Nobody had to choose.
For me, story is everything. I notice plot holes the way other people notice a squeaky door, and I'm particularly bothered by the ones that could have been sealed with a single line of dialogue. Structural failures pull me out of a film — unless it manages to hit one of my numbers. If it makes me laugh, or fills me with joy, I can forgive a great deal.
Case in point: I consider Raiders of the Lost Ark one of the greatest films ever made. I also believe it contains a fundamental storytelling flaw — namely, that everything Indiana Jones does is essentially pointless. His entire mission is to keep the Ark out of Nazi hands. But what if he'd never gotten involved? The Nazis retrieve the Ark, open it, and... the ending plays out exactly the same. Jones changed nothing. Most people don't notice, and most people don't care. I notice. I still love the film. That tension is kind of what this whole site is about.
Think of me as the audience surrogate — the person in the back of the room asking “but was it actually good?” while some critic spends five paragraphs unpacking the influence of German Expressionism. I come to every film fresh, bring no agenda, and represent the viewer who simply wants to know one thing: is it worth your time?
That's the question I'm here to answer.
Want to suggest a title? Argue with our verdicts? We're reachable at hello@reelinitiative.net
Note: Michael will defend his score. Shawn might change his.
