
Freaky Tales and its anthology of odd tales in Oakland in 1987 are coated in the haze of the 1980s, but not a distinct one. Sure, there are specific scenes that have some familiar staging. There’s an interconnecting alien green force that takes the form of a flying automotive, recalling similar scenes from Repo Man, but the green also turns people into vicious warriors akin to the Loknar from Heavy Metal. However, the film can never be fully pinned down to one particular type of film or even a specific kind of anthology. It’s a smattering of retro wildness that doesn’t rely too heavily on its neon nostalgic coating to keep itself compelling.
Regarding anthologies, Freaky Tales is no Twilight Zone or Tales From The Crypt, despite containing supernatural elements and exploding bodies. The bulk of the tales are more like mildly intriguing urban adventures with a bit of sci-fi peppered in for some extra flavor. Sometimes, the mysterious green force grants the protagonists the power to rap, and other times, it’s as simple as a single tear instigating revenge. Every story could easily be told without the glowing green visage, but they could probably use that fantastical signifier to explain away some of the wild displays of violence, where people are set on fire like in The Warriors or massacred like an over-the-top samurai picture. Although there is something to be said of the savoring delight the film takes in the sight of a nightclub brutalizing intrusive neo-nazi punks, where there’s little questioning why so many scenes of blood-spurting and flaming fascists is extended.
But the real treat of this film is the performances. Pedro Pascal’s wry charm is evident in his straight approach to playing a weary hitman haunted by the past and tempted by revenge. His presence alone is enticing, but the surprise of Tom Hanks popping in for a brief role as a video store clerk was an even bigger surprise, even if his few lines of dialogue play more like the geeky scratchings of a geeky Tarantino-inspired filmmaker. Ben Mendelsohn plays a nameless cop who is so cartoonishly sinister in how his evilness ranges from making bigoted comments in public to refusing to buy an ice cream cone for his partner. Normani and Dominique Thorne make a solid duo that raps their way into greatness amid the scuminess of the city. Jay Ellis is also a delight for how he dominates the final act as a master of violence, dicing up his aggressors with swords and projectiles.
There’s an uneven nature to this film that teeters between maddeningly lost and refreshingly experimental. The first segment, for example, is filmed in the old 4:3 aspect ratio (complete with cigarette burns to signal reel changes), only to be intentionally blown up to 16:9 by cartoon versions of the characters for the following story. The music sometimes has the 80s sound, but will drop the act for modern music when it feels right for an action scene. There’s a sensation of rebelliousness in how the film sets up its retro style and tries to break those barriers as much as it plays within the dated borders. There are some amusing moments in bits and pieces for how the film dabbles in a little bit of everything. But much like sampling every flavor at Baskin-Robbins, it rarely feels like this film is a complete meal of a movie, more nibbling at camp than munching as much as Mendelsohn chewing the scenery.
Freaky Tales finds a few fresh and bold notes amid the rickety retro road it winds across. It never feels like the film is pinned under any specific movie or hallmark of nostalgia, but it also never finds much of its voice in the smear of its B-movie attributes. The result is a more admirable film for its willingness to search around in its filmic vision of 1980s California than rest on a servicable movie that reminds the viewer of the era with punk and VHS. For how little the film finds beyond some campy nuggets of brutality and stylish staging, there’s a smile to be had in a film that wants to feature Tom Hanks listing underdog movies, even if there’s not much more to his scene than that.