In this episode Dave explores Halloween III: Season of the Witch — John Carpenter and Deborah Hill’s controversial attempt to turn the franchise into an anthology and the film’s dark fusion of Celtic myth and corporate control.

He summarizes the plot (Dr. Dan Chalice and Ellie Grimbridge uncover Silver Shamrock’s plan to use Stonehenge-embedded chips in Halloween masks), explains why audiences rejected the film in 1982, and highlights its themes of commercialization, media manipulation, and nostalgia weaponized.

Finally, Dave traces the film’s cult rediscovery on VHS and DVD and argues that Halloween III’s ambition and prescience deserve a second look.

Content Warning: This episode contains discussion of graphic body horror, sexual violence, and disturbing imagery.

In 1983, David Cronenberg released a film that seemed like pure science fiction. Today, we're living in it.

When sleazy cable TV programmer Max Renn discovers a pirate broadcast featuring real torture and murder, his investigation leads him into a world of corporate conspiracy, body horror, and the literal fusion of flesh and technology. Starring James Woods and Debbie Harry, Videodrome transformed Marshall McLuhan's media theories into visceral nightmare - and accidentally predicted our algorithmic age.

We explore Cronenberg's prophetic vision: how the film anticipated social media addiction, reality distortion, and corporate mind control; why Rick Baker's groundbreaking practical effects still disturb audiences; and how this controversial masterpiece has become more relevant each year. From personal VCR memories to Canadian media theory to the deliberate collapse of reality itself - this is Videodrome.

"Death to Videodrome! Long live the new flesh!" But are we the new flesh?

Part of our Top 20 Horror Films of the 1980s countdown. Next: Halloween III: Season of the Witch.

Listen with headphones. Question your screen time. Welcome to the Videodrome.

A deeply personal dive into "Trick or Treat" (1986) and my teenage metalhead years during the Satanic Panic. From Marc Price's heartfelt performance to Tony Fields' mesmerizing Sammi Curr, this film understood what it meant to be an outsider finding identity through heavy metal.