When Matt Belinkie, Mark Lee, and Peter Fenzel planned this podcast, the intention was to visit a variety of topics related to winter. But once Matt started talking about the BookTok sensation Ice Planet Barbarians, it was clear that there wasn’t going to be time for anything else. This sci-fi romance novel, self-published by Ruby Dixon in 2015, was the beginning of a 21 book series that tells the story of a group of human women who are abducted from Earth and marooned on a desolate world (referred to in the book, to Mark’s amusement, as “Not-Hoth”). Luckily they are saved by hunky aliens who are skilled hunters and VERY generous lovers. They aren’t “barbarians” in the sense that they lack manners, but they do have a sort of rough and tumble Conan aesthetic that lends itself well to fan art.
Barbarians unites two powerful strands of escapism: first, wouldn’t it be great to escape from the crushing grip of late stage capitalism, even if it means replacing your 9-5 with a struggle of survival against the elements on a hostile planet. Secondly, wouldn’t it be nice if love and family was a matter of fate and biology, out of your hands entirely. The blue-skinned alien barbarians (and eventually the human women) have a symbiote implanted inside them that keeps them alive in the hostile environment but ALSO picks a life mate for them, giving them an instant irresistible lust for a single partner. (Speaking of lust, Matt takes mild offense to the aliens being upgrades over human men, in anatomical terms that he is too modest to specify but let’s just say there is vibration.)
Although the overthinkers are not the target demographic here, they get the appeal. There is a reason “isekai” is such a hot genre now. Modern life feels fraught and only getting more precarious. Young people are increasingly not dreaming of a better life here on earth but rather a blank slate on another world entirely (and maybe a hunky barbarian to keep you warm at night).
Matt Belinkie, Mark Lee, and Peter Fenzel power slide their way into a Child’s Garden of Video Games. Partial adoption of Mario Kart World has rattled but not shattered more than a decade of global Kart unity. A toddlers become little kids, assisted gaming experiences give way to assisted ones. As little kids grow into big kids, glorified Minecraft machines rediscover that they are gaming consoles that can explore other genres.
Matt, Mark and Pete recount their decades with Mario Kart, culminating in introducing the game to their children. They look back bemused on the history of printed and online strategy guides. They reflect on how their racers of choice have changed through their lives, what they have learned about gaming with 3 year olds, and how even kids who love Sonic still so often gravitate to Mario.
They also expand from the now-orthodox bananas and bob-ombs to describe newer shared gaming experiences with children, such as Great Wolf Lodge’s immersive live-action adventure MagiQuest with the little ones or the Japanese walking simulator Exit 8, for those a little older and more prepared for non-turtle-shell-related psychological horror.
Matt Belinkie, Peter Fenzel, and Jordan Stokes slip through a crack in reality and wind up in the Backrooms, which started out as a posting on 4Chan about “liminal spaces.” In 2022 a 16-year-old Youtuber with a freakish mastery of computer graphics produced a found footage video bringing the photo to life. And on the day the hosts recorded this podcast, indie movie studio du jour A24 debuted the first teaser for their feature-length adaptation.
This won’t be the first internet meme to get a movie; that distinction belongs to Slenderman from 2018. But the twist here is that the director is none other than that teenaged Youtuber, Kane Parsons, now given 15 million dollars to play with.
The hosts put on their screenwriting hats to wonder how you craft a narrative out of something that gets its power from its irrationality. The Backrooms fandom over the past five years has been divided into people (like Parsons) who feel that the offputting weirdness of the concept is what makes it powerful, and the people who imagine the Backrooms as a place that can be divided into levels, mapped, outsmarted, and ultimately conquered. Come to think of it, a lot of horror movies are balancing acts between something bizarre (a haunted videotape, for instance) and an explanation for where it came from and how to beat it (the life story of Samara Morgan). Audiences need SOME answers. But answer too many questions and the scary thing might not be quite as scary anymore.
Finally, we consider what made the Backrooms such a viral idea and potentially a box office hit. Perhaps serial killers and monsters are the threats of a previous generation. What’s scary to us today is the idea that our whole world might unravel, the rug pulled out from under us and replaced with yellow office carpeting. What’s scary is the idea that things might stop making sense for no clear reason, and we might not be able to find our way back.
Mark Lee, Jordan Stokes, and Peter Fenzel answer the anthem, energized by John Tesh’s live performance of “Roundball Rock” on the court at the NBA All-Star Game. They map the history of the track, from Tesh’s early days touring with Yanni, through his answering machine revelation of a song that would change the world, past the heyday of the NBA on NBC, through the valley toward the Dave Tesh SNL sketch, and back to the modern, nostalgic day.
They expand this consideration to sports jingles, sports anthems, and different musics associated with competition around the TV dial and the world. From what we know about Ancient Greece, to what we think we know about Ancient Rome (mostly due to movies), to the 19th century construction of bullfighting tradition, to the growth of rugby chants out of the traditions of the Maori and Zulu, to Hockey Night in Canada, the Wide World of Sports, and the FOX robot, the Overthinkers discuss who the music is by, who the music is for, and what it all has to do with, as Roland Barthes might put it, contest and spectacle.
ERROR WARNING: With a heavy heart, we must relay one stain of shame that perhaps no atonement might wash away: in this episode, Stokes briefly confuses Greek composer and keyboardist Yanni with the Romanian Gheorghe Zamfir, duly honored “Master of the Pan Flute.” In penance, until further notice Stokes will flagellate himself with a scented candle whilst laying down vocals for an adult contemporary electro-pop remix of Gregorian chant.
Peter Fenzel, Mark Lee, and Matthew Wrather overthink the orthogonal cultural spectacles of the 2026 Super Bowl, considering the halftime show headlined by Bad Bunny and the perennial cultural battlefield of the commercials, this year weaving narratives of authenticity amidst a sea of grifting. The halftime show is approached first through its stagecraft and camera work which create an transporting, immersive environment for TV audiences (though probably not for stadium-goes). The presence of Gaga is debated.
And what does it all tell us about America in 2026? Maybe it’s that “in a world where nostalgia is commodified, even a minion can become a cultural icon.”
Peter Fenzel, Mark Lee, Mark Lee’s slide guitar, Jordan Stokes, and Matt Wrather use the power of music to channel the ancestors, bridge the gap between the living and the dead, and also discuss the 2025 Ryan Coogler film Sinners. It’s quite possibly a masterpiece; at the least, it’s certainly the best movie musical about vampires set in the Mississippi Delta that’s ever been made.
The panelists sink their teeth into the tradition of blues music in the rural south; what it means for different cultures to appropriate music; vampire lore across the centuries; and what exactly the vampires in this movie symbolize. Are they just racist villains, or is something else more complex going on here? And what does it mean that the vampires’ music absolutely slaps?
No souls were sold to the devil at the crossroads in the making of this podcast.
Pete Fenzel and Matt Wrather convene cross-country, with snow piled in the East and sun set in the West, to clear their bottleneck of constrained podcast topics. In this storied two-hander, they dissect the perception and reality of bodies of work that strain our ability to perceive and accomplish.
The two share their subjective limits on the feet of snow that had just fallen, from the individual snow shoveler fighting a private war with the sky, to the kaleidoscopic social media snow spectator bombarded by accounts and moments from a hundred cold days while lounging in temperate comfort. These swarming pinholes alluding to some greater image beyond a veil, recall instagram stories about Taylor Swift concerts or the current state of public truth.
They further consider two masterpieces of slow and steady work done faster than seemed possible: Alex Honnold’s methodical ropeless climb of the skyscraper Taipei 101, and the Eliyahu Goldratt novel The Goal, an 80s classic about the Socratic method, narrative reinvention, communication in marriage, art’s relationship with truth, and very detailed, specific instructions on how to successfully implement lean manufacturing techniques in late 20th century bearing assembly manufacturing plants, which at this moment has a 50/50 shot of being on the waiting list at your public library.
The work continues, as we consider not how to optimize our own local maxima, but to maximize throughput – of mind, body, and soul. By which we mean duty calls on people especially in positions of authority to accept and enforce accountability for our duty to each other as humans, and also the New York Times rebooted Scrabble.
Pete Fenzel, Mark Lee, and Matt Wrather overthink Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery, the latest installment in the Benoit Blanc Cinematic Murder Universe. The panelists appreciated the rich, cinematic presentation of the movie, especially compared to most made-for-Netflix movies, but they also took issue with how the film treats Catholicism more as symbolic wallpaper than as a lived, institutional reality. Where are the baptisms? The first communions? The immigrants? Most importantly, why is everyone so concerned about finding a lost diamond when it would’ve been a lot easier to embezzle the Sunday collection money?
Those critiques aside, everyone appreciated the portrayal of Father Jud as an authentic moral center for the story and as a thematic counterbalance to Benoit Blanc’s cold rationalism. It makes for a very different Knives Out movie compared to its predecessors; whether it’s better or worse than those is largely a matter of taste and perspective. But it’s beyond argument that Daniel Craig’s accent remains sublime through them all.
Peter Fenzel and Matthew Wrather return to Downton Abbey (thrumming music and all), for what may be the last time. This show has been an exceptionally deep well for us over the years and this film is not no exception. It’s a little thin, honestly, but it knows the assignment and it has its charms, including the spectacle of Lady Mary cast out from polite society, Robert visibly flustered when he sees a showgirl, Edith finally bringing some main character energy, and Mrs. Patmore asking Mrs. Hughes-Carson about boning.
This is a film about what becomes of the children (do they get a prize at the fair?), and how we hand off our patrimony from one generation to the next; it’s only fitting that it has not one but three Fenzelian Downton Abbey Moments®. Matt and Pete go into them in detail, even though Matt is a little disappointed that the packed plot doesn’t leave enough room for each event to breathe.
If you’ve ever had a fight with a family member at a real estate viewing, you’ll be delighted by the supremely relatable Crawley family and their (now multi-generational!) foibles.
Jordan Stokes and Pete Fenzel dash and dart in playful mayhem around the 2023 version of Tom & Jerry, a reimagining of the cat and mouse duo set against the vibrant backdrop of Singapore. The series (available on HBO Max and Cartoon Network Asia’s YouTube Channel), is a painstaking work of classic animation slapstick, with zero dialogue and maximum expression, and has been a captivating surprise.
Jordan and Pete discuss the history of Tom & Jerry as MGM’s answer to Walt Disney, the birth of Hannah Barbera out of Tom & Jerry’s success, and how the practical considerations of 1940s and 1950s animation shaped the aesthetic and kinetic vocabulary of Tom & Jerry, which the 2023 show recaptures and reimagines so expertly.
The duo also parse the new show’s pacing, complexity, and delicate use of theme and symbol, and the simple patterns that it spins into densely intertwined nonverbal plots with layers of setup and payoff, from its exploration of the smell and taste of Durian to its take on how notions of creation and destruction changed with the development of modern art.
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