Freaky Tales

A Blood-Soaked, Genre-Busting Punk Opera

At first, Freaky Tales lulls you into a sun-drenched 1980s Americana fever dream—smiling families, stadium lights, and a Reagan-era sheen that feels almost too clean. 

Don’t settle in yet. Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck hit you with a sledgehammer about three minutes in, it drops the mask and drags you into something far messier and meaner—in the best way. 

Suddenly, you’re lost in this batshit punk nightmare, equal parts gory rebellion and mind bending chaos. 

You might think you’ve seen a genre blend before, but this feels like someone put a VHS tape and a zine in a blender and just hoped for the best. 

Honestly? The result is wild. “Freaky Tales” shows up, wrecks the place, and makes everything else feel safe and boring for a hot second. Anyway, this isn’t just some random collage. 

You’ve got four stories all butting into each other, set smack in 1987 Oakland (and man, you feel it: gritty, loud, chasing that last gasp of analog madness). 

Martial arts? Check. Horror? Yup. Revenge flick energy, neon nostalgia, black comedy—it’s all baked into the same feverish pie, topped with the attitude of a Xeroxed fanzine. 

It is a mess. But that’s the point. Some threads feel undercooked, and the chaotic pacing might alienate viewers who prefer cohesion over collision—but that’s precisely the kind of filmmaking this dares to champion.

Pedro Pascal pops in and basically owns the joint. Angus Cloud is in there too (RIP, king), flanked by Ben Mendelsohn, Jay Ellis, Dominique Thorne, Ji-young Yoo, Jack Champion, and Normani (who, weirdly, struts into her movie debut like she’s done this for years). 

The whole cast? They’re obviously having a blast. Characters bounce off the walls, Neo-Nazis get pummeled, punks go feral, and everyone’s swinging for the fences like this is their last shot. 

The acting style is not “Oscar clip” territory but more like “lean in and enjoy the ride.” Some moments get campy, others are weirdly sincere. That mix is what makes it work. 

Some folks might get thrown by the structure—it jumps around, chase scenes one minute, wacko comedy the next. But honestly, the raw energy just drags you along. 

Action scenes are rough and tumble, bright red blood splashing everywhere like the world’s angriest arcade game. Don’t even get me started on the weird head explosions. You know those would’ve ruled in a midnight movie crowd. And the music? 

So many bangers—dirty punk riffs, scratchy hip-hop, thumping funk, all that beautiful warped-cassette noise you only get from an ‘80s tape deck left in the sun. 

The backdrop is Oakland, when the city was basically a fuse about to go off. Political chaos, cultural clashes, and real-world fury on every corner. 

But “Freaky Tales” doesn’t preach at you. It just cranks the amps, piles on visual grit, and lets you feel what it was like to be alive then. 

The city’s not just scenery, it’s the main character—scrappy, unpredictable, never quite finished. It’s wild to see Boden and Fleck—a team that did “Half Nelson” and even “Captain Marvel”—completely lose their minds in the best way. 

This movie doesn’t care about polish. It cares about vibes: fast, loud, a little bit out of control. The whole thing plays like a love letter to pizza-stained copies of Fangoria and those video stores with the sketchy back room. 

If you grew up on “Natural Born Killers” and anything that looked too weird for Blockbuster, you’re gonna eat this up. Seriously, it’s popcorn and punk rock rolled in confusion. Is it getting the attention it deserves? Absolutely not. 

Probably too weird, too hard to label, too happy being on the fringes. But if you’re out here chasing thrills and jonesing for some hot-blooded retro chaos, you need to catch this film while it’s still lurking in the shadows. 

“Freaky Tales” is a sneaky masterpiece. Go in knowing nothing. 

Let it smack you in the jaw and remind you why movies should sometimes be messy, loud, and a bit dangerous. Personally, I’m still grinning.