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.
Michael Bradshaw Nobody particularly steered me to my love of the movies, I sort of fell into it on my own. The creativity and the imagination needed was right up my alley. In early high school, I was not necessarily wanting to be a director or an editor--those came later. But I really wanted to be a writer. I remember being a fan of The 'Nam, a comic book series about the Vietnam War, and then in 8th grade starting to write a novel set in the time period. Looking back now, it was quite ambitious--I mean, I WAS only in 8th grade. What did I know about the Vietnam War other than my dad fought in it? Eventually, I grew out of my career aspirations of being a teacher and a business owner (of which I have ironically been both at this point) and looking at movies. I'd always been fascinated with the movies--my earliest memory of seeing a movie was Return of the Jedi at the Kachina, a single-screen theater in downtown Scottsdale, Arizona. That theater is long gone now, and my mom insists she took me to see Star Wars in 1977, but I was only 2 at the time, and who in their right mind would take a 2-year-old to the movies. Oh. Wait. What propelled my love for film started with Raiders of the Lost Ark, which was my favorite movie throughout Junior High and parts of High School. Then surprisingly enough, I found a little movie called Ben-Hur and that became my new standard bearer and the point where I started looking at films differently. But it wasn't until the summer of 1993, that movies became my passion--watching, making and writing about them. Jurassic Park came out that year and was a huge mega-success. I remember sitting in the theater in Tempe, Arizona, and seeing that first scene where we get a look at the dinosaurs and being mesmerized. Not because there were dinosaurs on screen, which was great in of itself, but because I realized just how much potential there was in the movies. College opened my eyes to the greats of cienema, not only the American greats like Bogart, D.W. Griffith and Charlie Chaplin, but foreign greats as well, including my favorite of all directors, Akira Kurosawa. I also worked as the manager of the local art house in Tucson, Arizona and was exposed to a bunch more films, some of which I probably never heard of and would never see. And now, here we are, in beautiful Los Angeles. Coming out here in 1998, I had visions of great storytelling that have not played out exactly as I've expected. I returned to school for Editing in 2004, and have been in the post-production field ever since. I have also met some great people, like Jim Rhodimer, director of a film called Gameface, which I produced and edited (as well as various other things). It was my first film. I've also met director Garrett Robinson, who I've done a few short film projects for over the past year. Then there's my partner-in-crime Felipe Avila, a great guy and lover of movies that I'm proud to have help me on this little website. We're looking forward to a great time ahead. And of course, I've met my beautiful fiancee, who keeps me on the straight and narrow day-in and day-out. But what about the writing? I hate to play the blame game, but I used to be able to write at the drop of a hat, whether it was a screenplay, short story or full-length novel. In fact, my first completed screenplay was finished when I was a sophomore in high school! But the reality is that I lost my mojo when it came to writing, mostly when the Internet became huge in the mid- to late-90s. Poor excuse, but I'm hoping my love of movies will get me back on the horse. Thanks to the stellar writing of Roger Ebert and James Berardelli, I'm ready to dive back in. I'm not the best writer in the world, but I love the opportunity for writing ABOUT movies, so off we go!
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.