This week on The Rotten Horror Picture Show Podcast, Clay and Amanda hit the gas with a discussion of Duel (1971), the lean, mean thriller that marked the feature debut of a young Steven Spielberg. Originally produced as a television movie, Duel was so effective, so tightly constructed, that it was later expanded and released theatrically—launching Spielberg’s career with a simple but terrifying premise: one man, one car, and one relentless, faceless truck driver who refuses to let him go. Clay and Amanda break down how Spielberg builds unbearable tension out of open highways, sparse dialogue, and pure cinematic momentum. It’s stripped-down suspense at its finest, proof that you don’t need aliens or sharks to make an audience squirm—just a road and something chasing you down it.

Now, personally? I don’t care for driving. Not because of road rage. Not because of reckless truckers. No, my grievance is far more tragic. The windshield. That thick, cruel pane of betrayal stands between me and what could be a veritable buffet of airborne delights. Do you know how many juicy, protein-packed bugs are out there on the highway? Countless. And what happens? Splat. Wasted. Perfectly good snacks smeared uselessly against the glass instead of landing directly where nature intended—right in my open mouth.

Watching Duel is especially frustrating for me. All that speeding down lonely desert roads, all that prime insect territory just zooming by untouched. Dennis Weaver’s character is busy worrying about a murderous truck, and I’m thinking, “Sir, do you realize the missed culinary opportunity here?”

Still, Clay and Amanda make a strong case for the film’s brilliance. They explore its minimalism, its craftsmanship, and how Spielberg transforms the mundane act of driving into a primal survival story. Me? I’ll be listening carefully—preferably with the window down. You never know what might fly in.

And don't forget to visit patreon.com/thepenskyfile to help support the show, and follow Clay and Amanda down the road of horror sequels this year!

This week on The Rotten Horror Picture Show Podcast, Clay and Amanda sink their teeth into one of the most intriguing and offbeat horror releases of the year: Sinners (2025), the blues-soaked vampire film that blends supernatural horror with Southern gothic vibes and music steeped in sweat, sorrow, and soul. They’re joined by special guest Wes from The Pensky File, who helps unpack the film’s bloodsucking mythology, musical backbone, and what happens when vampires stop lurking in castles and start haunting juke joints. Together, they dig into how Sinners uses blues music not just as atmosphere, but as the very lifeblood of its story.

Now, I’ll be honest with you—I’ve always been more of a Pat Boone guy. Clean-cut. Pleasant. Polite. Give me a nice, wholesome cover of a song originally written by someone who lived a little too hard, and I’m happy. The blues? It makes me nervous. Too much feeling. Too much raw emotion. Everyone sounds like they’ve been through something, and frankly, I’d rather not hear about it. Vampires singing the blues? That’s just piling intensity on top of intensity. Where’s the reassurance? Where’s the cardigan? Where’s Pat smiling gently and telling me everything’s going to be okay?

And yet… Clay, Amanda, and Wes make a compelling case. They talk about how Sinners taps into the haunted history of the blues, the way music and monstrosity intertwine, and how the film reimagines vampirism through cultural legacy instead of capes and coffins. It’s thoughtful, eerie, and apparently very cool—which I assume is true, even if I personally would’ve preferred a little less moaning guitar and a little more polite crooning.

So tune in for a rich discussion of Sinners. I’ll be over here, spinning my Pat Boone records and pretending everything is just fine.

And don't forget to head over to patreon.com/thepenskyfile to join Clay and Amanda as they take a deep dive into horror sequels!

This week on The Rotten Horror Picture Show Podcast, Clay and Amanda are creeping back to one of the most influential horror hits of the 21st century: Paranormal Activity (2009). The low-budget found-footage phenomenon changed the genre overnight, proving you didn’t need monsters, gore, or even much movement to terrify audiences—just a quiet house, a static camera, and the creeping feeling that something is very wrong at 3:00 a.m. Clay and Amanda break down why the film worked so well, how it built tension through silence and suggestion, and how it launched an entire franchise of late-night door-slamming terror.

Now, I should clarify something: due to my sensitive bladder, I have never actually seen a Paranormal Activity movie. Not because I’m afraid it’ll scare me into peeing my pants—please, I have dignity—but because being scared makes me thirsty. And when I get scared, I drink soda. Lots of soda. And when I drink soda, my bladder—delicate little thing that it is—starts filing formal complaints. Before you know it, I’m up and down every ten minutes, shuffling to the bathroom, missing all the good parts, and trying to remember if the demon showed up or if that was just the ice maker.

Found-footage movies are especially brutal for this. You leave the room for thirty seconds and suddenly everyone’s screaming, furniture’s flying, and you’ve missed the entire escalation. Clay and Amanda can sit there, calm as can be, analyzing subtle footsteps and shadowy door movements, while I’m stuck choosing between dehydration and narrative coherence.

So while they dig into the slow-burn brilliance of Paranormal Activity, I’ll be listening safely from a place of understanding. No jump scares, no soda, no bathroom trips. Because true horror isn’t demons—it’s realizing you’ve missed the scariest scene while washing your hands.

And don't forget to head over to patreon.com/thepenskyfile to join Clay and Amanda as they take a deep dive into horror sequels!