Nostalgia for the 1980s has been in vogue since the release of Stranger Things in 2016. The Netflix show brought about a renaissance of interest in the popular culture of the time firmly rooted in nostalgia – video game arcades, the role-playing game Dungeons and Dragons, horror films and a reverie for the horror of the VHS and video-nasty era.
Don’t get me wrong, I am a big fan of this form of nostalgia – if it’s done right. Freaky Tales, an anthology film that deals with 80s’ California punk, anti-fascism, hip-hop and VHS culture, could have been a great addition to this sort of nostalgia bait. Sadly, it is a mess, which, for most of its run time, feels like a film about the 80s generated by AI.
To go on TikTok is to be confronted by a gen-Z army cosplaying a neon-drenched and romanticised version of the 80s. Filters are used to replicate the low-fi aesthetics of VHS tape, super 8 and cinefilm, while the content creators dress in the styles of the decade and espouse a wishful nostalgia for an era they are at least three decades too young to have experienced firsthand. Freaky Tales seems aimed at this market.
But this is how the nostalgia industry (or nostalgia capitalism) works. Contemporary digital media facilitates and creates nostalgia in a way that gives the appearance of authenticity but is mostly all surface. Nostalgia is passed on, remediated and sanitised.
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It’s worth also noting that it’s always the Hollywood synthy, US version of 80s pop culture that dominates. Few young people have developed a fabricated sense of nostalgia for the dreariness of Thatcher’s Britain, for instance. A period that history academic Lucy Robinson writes was full of “pop culture and politics … that shaped modern Britain,” in her incisive critical assessment Now That’s What I Call A History of the 1980s.
Freaky Tales is comprised of four interlocking stories, which are bound in a way that is hard to really comprehend.
Are the stories connected through the two sets of characters – a couple of young punks and a pair of female hip-hop artists – leaving a screening of The Lost Boys who reappear in different stories? Is it the strange alien green glow that reappears across all the stories? The marker of a solid anthology film is a tight structure and a sense of place, which the film at least has with all stories based in Oakland, California. But for the most part, Freaky Tales feels half built and uncertain of itself.
Buried somewhere though is a better film trying to get out. Take the first story “Strength in Numbers: the Gilman Strikes Back about the denizens of the Gilman punk club in Oakland, taking a violent and gory stand against a band of neo-nazis they are being harassed by.
The sequence ends in a sort of bloody 1980s’ punk version of the Gunfight at the O.K. Corral (there are also clear references to Walter Hill’s 1979 cult classic The Warriors). Here there was an opportunity to look deeper into the emergence of California punk culture of the era, the Gilman is a place of real cultural significance where the scene fermented and bands like Rancid, The Offspring, Green Day and the East Bay punk scene in the 1990s got a start.
Dead Kennedy’s track Nazi Punks Fuck Off became a rallying cry of 80s anti-fascist punk as did Black Flag’s Rise Above (this is at least included on the film’s soundtrack). So why not look at least a little deeper into the antifascist movement within the US punk movement during the era? It can be done and I’d recommend Jeremy Saulnier’s harrowing 2015 film Green Room, which examines the subject from a more contemporary perspective.
Instead, the film adopts a rather more facile approach. This is most evident in its choice to use animated “bangs” and “thwocks” like a Batman comic during the big fight sequence. By and large this section (by far the worst of the four) feels like content devoid of substance.
Lionsgate
In story two, “Don’t fight The Feeling”, the action centres around a pair of aspiring female hip-hop performers who enter into a rap battle with the performer Too Short (the real life Too Short appears in a cameo as a cop later in the film) and tackles misogyny and hip-hop culture. There are shades of seminal black indie director Spike Lee (Do The Right Thing, 1989) here in its foregrounding of black culture and subjects (although, it must be said, Ryan Fleck and Anna Boden are both white).
It could have potentially complemented the punk story if it dealt with the cultural impact of 80s’ hip-hop and the struggles of female performers. But again, it feels half formed – part of the problem being that the film is trying perhaps to do too much.
There are things to enjoy, however, in the film. It is pleasingly gory and has some clever moments. Man of the moment Pedro Pascal takes the lead in the third section (the best of the four), “Born to Mack”, as an enforcer trying to go straight and Ben Mendelsohn puts in an enjoyably sleazy turn as a corrupt cop. The success of the film rest’s chiefly on their shoulders.
Born to Mack clearly has shades of the king of pop culture nostalgia Quentin Tarantino, especially in its clever and surprising cameo from 80s’ icon Tom Hanks who plays a mysterious video store owner. Tarantino’s films (not least 1994’s Pulp Fiction – the blueprint for this type of anthologised nostalgia cinema) were at the forefront 1990s’ indie cinema, and were framed by his obsessions with 60s, 70s and 80s pop culture.
Freaky Tales has the potential to offer a more nuanced engagement with the era and its cultural references points while still maintaining a sense of Trashy exploitation fun. Sadly it falls short of the mark.
Freaky Tales is in selected cinemas from April 18 and on digital platforms from April 28.
