Con Air (1997)

This week, the dads climb aboard Con Air (1997), where Nicolas Cage’s mullet meets maximum security at 30,000 feet. From the first moment, Steve and Nic can’t decide if they’re watching an action classic or a fever dream stitched together from discarded Garth Brooks lyrics. They marvel at Cameron Poe’s mix of chivalry and chaos, debate whether that accent is a war crime, and lose it over the idea of anyone willingly sitting next to Steve Buscemi on a flight.

As the plane fills up with larger-than-life convicts, the dads track every glorious one-liner and explosion with equal parts admiration and disbelief. Nic admits he’d probably root for Cyrus the Virus in real life, while Steve argues that John Cusack looks like he wandered in from a rom-com and never found the exit. The dads go deep on the logic (or lack thereof) of the Las Vegas crash landing and how somehow, against all odds, this ridiculous movie makes them feel something by the end.

Between digressions about mid-90s soundtracks, Nic’s obsession with the stuffed bunny, and Steve’s theory that every Michael Bay wannabe was taking notes, the episode becomes a love letter to the last great age of dumb spectacle. It’s big, loud, sentimental, and just smart enough to know it’s stupid.

Con Air is the kind of movie that soars precisely because it never should have gotten off the ground.