Freaky Tales

Nostalgia can be a poison, we know that much. We reminisce, we romanticise, and we try hard to convince ourselves that "yes, things were probably better in the past". But fortunately, that's not true, and the 80s are certainly no exception. Wildly popular, sure, but the hyper-stylised slice of the decade we're often served up is nothing more than a damn lie, albeit a fantastically tasty one.

Freaky Tales is no exception, directors Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck's uncompromising tribute to the golden years of Ronald Reagan where we're treated to equal parts rappers, skinheads, dirty cops, and all kinds of madness. Four wild stories that are punky and blood-soaked without any interest in subtlety or logic. Freaky Tales is a chaotic love letter to the time that was, where anything could happen and often did. It's loud, it's messy, and it's just as damn vivid as a film like this deserves to be.

In simple terms, the script is divided into four loosely connected stories with plenty of wiggle room. It's clear that Boden and Fleck have not tried to write a tight anthology film. If anything, Freaky Tales can be likened to a pop-culture pie-throwing exercise where you simply let loose with every pastry you can find in the shop to see what eventually sticks to the wall.

Freaky Tales opens hard with Strength in Numbers, where a bunch of punky teenagers beat up skinheads in a colourful extravaganza, which clearly reflects both The Warriors and Scott Pilgrim and leads us straight into Don't Fight the Feeling. This is a pure piece of hip-hop romance where words fly like machine gun bullets when the icon Too $hort is challenged to a microphone battle, which is just as wonderfully energetic as it sounds.

In Born to Mack, Pedro Pascal steps in as Clint, a worn-out debt collector, who is very grumpy and with a dream of just hanging up his guns and retiring. But what is supposed to be his last job goes horribly wrong and instead he is reluctantly drawn into a spiral of violence painted in the reddest of colours. In short, the blood splatters and so does the entertainment value, which completely explodes. Pascal is brilliant here - playing a tired man carrying as much guilt as he does ammunition, something he is simply terribly good at.

Last but not least we have The Legend of Sleepy Floyd. This is about the most gruesome chapter possible where Jay Ellis plays the titular basketball star who, in the best Shogun Assassin style, deals with problems with a sword. It's bloody, over-the-top, and absolutely wonderful, although it's also here that the film's last shred of realism and self-awareness takes an extended holiday and sets sail for the Caribbean. But honestly, who cares, when it's this entertaining.

So, with your hand on your heart, how well does all this work? There's no denying that Freaky Tales is, for the most part, a complete mess. The connections between the stories are paper-thin to say the least, and they mostly feel like a collection of half-baked, cool ideas that Boden and Fleck hatched during a session of hard bending while listening to 80s hits. Freaky Tales is clearly more of a mixtape than a traditional film.

But honestly, I wasn't expecting much more either, and this fast-paced tribute to the world's greatest decade isn't made to be dissected like some stolid, dry film school analysis. Freaky Tales is made to entertain, to make you laugh, roar, jump up and down on the sofa like a mad gorilla, pumping your fist wildly in the air. It's a declaration of love for rebels and dreamers, those who refused to take shit - and it does so with such wonderful energy that you can't help but be infected by it.

Does Freaky Tales have problems? Oh yes, lots of them. But it's also a very self-aware creation that's loud and ugly with loads of heart and complete with a wonderfully bizarre Tom Hanks cameo that had me squealing with delight. Boden and Fleck haven't achieved anything important or beautiful, instead they have delivered an experience that dares to be different, celebrating 80s subcultures, B-movies, and their stylised hyper-violence. A charming and marvellous time capsule with a lot of substance within that is well worth seeing.