Wall Street (1987)

Nic brings Wall Street to the table this week, and the reasoning is hard to argue with: how have the Dads spent 50-plus episodes in the '80s and '90s without Michael Douglas? Oliver Stone's 1987 ode to pinstripes and insider trading follows Bud Fox, a hungry young broker played by Charlie Sheen, as he claws his way into the orbit of corporate raider Gordon Gekko by way of Cuban cigars, 59 consecutive phone calls, and one very illegal stock tip he picked up from his dad. From there, things go exactly the way Martin Sheen's face tells you they will.

Both Dads came in familiar with the movie's fingerprints more than the movie itself. Steve knows the Boiler Room scenes quoting Wall Street better than any actual scene in Wall Street, and Nic, ever the CPA, paused the conversation to verify Bud Fox's tax math on a $50K salary across federal, state, city, and payroll. It checks out. Oliver Stone did his homework, even if subtlety was never on his syllabus. The dads clock Stone's sledgehammer approach early and never stop finding new examples, from Bud literally asking "who am I?" on his balcony to the foreshadowing so thick you could spread it on beef tartare, which, speaking of, Gekko serves Bud a portion roughly the size of a pot roast with an egg yolk on top. Nic didn't even think it was beef tartare because "the thing was so big."

The supporting cast gets plenty of attention. Martin Sheen plays Bud's father, and the Dads agree he's the only genuinely good person in the entire film. Daryl Hannah's Darian, Razzie winner for Worst Supporting Actress, redecorates Bud's apartment into what Nic calls "Caligula's playhouse" complete with Styrofoam Doric columns, and at one point announces her dream of producing "a line of high quality antiques," which Steve correctly identifies as possibly the dumbest business plan ever committed to screen. And then there's Gekko's toddler, sporting a pumpkin pie haircut so distracting that Nic says it looks like someone painted a kid on an egg.

The "greed is good" speech lands, Douglas's Oscar-winning glare lands harder, and a late-film detail where you can hear Bud's ice rattling because Charlie Sheen is subtly shaking with rage earns genuine admiration. But the financial schemes stack up and get harder to follow each time, and the third act collapses into a sprint. Both Dads leave with the same recommendation: if you want this story told better, go watch Boiler Room or binge Billions.

Greed may or may not be good, but "I create nothing, I own" hits different in 2026.