There’s a pulse beneath the pavement in Freaky Tales, a throb of resistance and rage, of grief and neon hope. Directed by Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck, this horror-tinged anthology unfolds across four interwoven tales set in 1987 Oakland, each steeped in real locations and historical echoes. The film is a fever dream of punk fists, rap verses, blood debts, and supernatural reckonings. Pedro Pascal leads the cast with a haunted gravity, but the ensemble shines brightest when the stories let their strangeness breathe. Freaky Tales is messy, uneven, and often glorious—a mixtape of fury and magic that doesn’t always land, but never stops swinging.
Strength in Numbers: The Gilman Strikes Back” opens the film with a riotous burst of punk defiance. Ji-young Yoo and Jack Champion bring tenderness to Tina and Lucid, whose romance blooms amid Nazi violence and Gilman Street’s anarchic energy. The story leans into cartoonish spectacle, with magical bracelets and glowing vengeance, but its heart is in the community’s refusal to be silenced. The fight choreography is clunky, and the tone veers wildly, but the emotional payoff—punks singing “Rise Above” in the wreckage—is earned. Grade: B+
“Don’t Fight the Feeling” shifts the lens to Barbie and Entice, played with raw charisma by Dominique Thorne and Normani. The film’s most lyrical arc is their journey from ice cream shop humiliation to rap stage triumph. The misogyny they face is rendered with uncomfortable realism, and Too Short’s presence adds a layer of meta-commentary that’s both biting and celebratory. The magical green light returns, this time illuminating a microphone, and the women’s verses cut through the noise with righteous clarity. The story falters slightly in pacing, but its final performance is electric. Grade: A-
“Born to Mack” is the film’s darkest tale, anchored by Pedro Pascal’s aching portrayal of Clint. His grief is quiet, his rage contained, and his refusal to name his wife’s killer is a moral stand that deepens the film’s themes of resistance. The criminal underworld plot is familiar, and the basketball heist subplot feels undercooked, but Pascal’s performance elevates the material. The revelation that his child survived adds a flicker of hope, though the story ends unresolved. Grade: B
“The Legend of Sleepy Floyd” is the most surreal and uneven of the quartet. Jay Ellis plays Floyd with stoic intensity, and his psychic martial arts vengeance is absurd and strangely moving. The convergence of all characters—punks, rappers, Clint, and Floyd—feels rushed, but the showdown delivers a cathartic justice explosion. Ben Mendelsohn’s villainous “Guy” is cartoonishly evil, and his demise is a pure horror spectacle. The meditation class epilogue is bizarre, but oddly fitting. Grade: B+.
The four stories form a jagged mosaic of Oakland’s haunted past. The film works best as an anthology, each tale a standalone act of resistance. The connective tissue—magical green light, Nazi antagonists, shared characters—feels more symbolic than narrative. As a coherent film, Freaky Tales strains under its ambition, but it thrives as a series of freakish fables.
The film is hit and miss, often within the same scene. Its tonal shifts—from horror to comedy to melodrama—can be jarring, but they also reflect the chaos of the era it depicts. When it hits, it hits hard: Barbie and Entice’s rap battle, Clint’s silent grief, Floyd’s psychic vengeance. When it misses, it’s usually in overexplained plot turns or underdeveloped side characters.
The cast, especially Pascal, Thorne, Normani, and Ellis, is used effectively. Supporting roles like Ben Mendelsohn’s “Guy” and Angus Cloud’s Travis veer into caricature, but they serve the film’s heightened tone. As a video store owner, Tom Hanks is a strange cameo, more distracting than enriching.
The plot succeeds in moments, mainly when it centers emotional truth over spectacle. The themes—resistance, grief, community—are well-presented, though not always cohesively told. The direction by Boden and Fleck is bold, if uneven, with flashes of brilliance in musical sequences and character close-ups.
Compared to other anthology horror films like Tales from the Hood or V/H/S, Freaky Tales is more lyrical, politically charged, and emotionally ambitious. It doesn’t always match their genre precision, but it offers something rarer: a horror film that mourns, sings, and fights back.
Grade: B+. Streaming on HBO Max.
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