Frankie Freako (Fantastic Fest 2024)

What ever happened to freaky little guys? For many of our childhoods, they were scuttling around everywhere – from Gremlins to Ghoulies, the rubbery wee nightmares were wreaking havoc in fictional suburban homes, instilling fear in children who really ought not to be watching such traumatic whimsy. Many of those kids are now adults. A select few of those have also internalised their early years of off-kilter film-watching and are now regurgitating it for a whole new generation to mentally mutilate. Leading the charge is Steven Kostanski, the Canadian genre enthusiast behind Carpenterian bloodbath The Void and the surprisingly heartwarming Psycho Goreman, who is now heralding his appearance on the comedy-horror scene with the also marvellously-named Frankie Freako.

Conor Sweeney’s Conor is a bland square, despite his protests that he totally isn’t. A yuppie barely hanging onto his sanity in a vaguely-defined office job, the promises of promotion are as nebulous as his understanding of bedroom etiquette at home. His wife Kristina (a game Kristy Wordsworth) leaves him home alone for the weekend with her ‘priceless’ artwork, which is bad news considering a tempting advert for a party-hard hotline hosted by the enigmatic and eponymous Frankie Freako keeps doing the rounds on their TV. Before Conor can say ‘shabbadoo’, Frankie and his fellow freako co. have made themselves at home, scribbling obscene graffiti on the walls (highlight: ‘BUTT’) and leaving crushed cans of Fart Classic (containing…*gulp*…caffeine) over every square foot of the carpet. Antics, hijinks and japery ensues. 

Canada really is leading the way with slapstick on the world stage right now. Anyone fortunate enough to watch Hundreds of Beavers with a crowd will know the hysterical glory of consequence-free brutality and its healing qualities, and Kostanski achieves a similar majesty in many of the set-pieces here. Seeing Sweeney launched like a torpedo into the reinforced glass of a CRT television is just one of numerous demented sights Frankie Freako has up its sleeve, and a brisk 82 minute runtime is just the ticket for this particular brand of loony entertainment. Sharply assembled in the cutting room by Kostanski himself, the breezy delights of Conor vs. the Freakos never outstay their welcome, sustained at a high pitch that proves to be a tightrope walk of tonal control that recalls the best of Tim and Eric and the dry surrealism of Quentin Dupieux. 

Better still is Kostanski’s book of visual references he’s gleefully drawing from here. The Freakos are pure Charles Band, recalling the grotesqueries of Head of the Family or Puppet Master’s legion of diminutive monsters, and their diverse range of abilities and appearances fuelling the grievous bodily harm screams Joe Dante’s Small Soldiers. One late-in-the-game trip to the distant planet of Freakworld also recalls (for better or worse) the ill-fated Super Mario Bros. and its topsy-turvy urban nightmarescape, and its inhabitants halfway between the argh-god-what-the-hell-is-that Koopas and Battlestar Galactica’s Cylons. There’s a great pleasure in finding out what was in Kostanski’s VHS collection as a kid, and he clearly has the same good taste nowadays in the way he weaves together the references into something more than just a list of recommendations. His masterstroke is a sly music cue that becomes a running gag in itself; Frankie’s hotline is scored by a sensuous synth track that recalls Pino Donaggio’s indelible ‘Telescope’ theme from Body Double, being used in increasingly absurd and sexually bizarre ways as the action escalates. Kostanski knows the context, meaning and comedic power of his references, and that’s a rare skill behind the camera when so many other films turn their inspirations into derivative copies, rather than using them as a jumping-off point and building something of their own. 

Perhaps even more delightful is a perfectly-pitched lead performance from Conor Sweeney, crafting a weedy sap of a hero that never sacrifices his lack of backbone or earnestness, striking a fine balance between sympathetic and just plain pathetic. He embodies the nervy energy of an 80s archetype with geekish aplomb, and forms a great double-act with Adam Brooks as Conor’s low-level scumbag boss Mr Buechler, who in turn redefines the word ‘nonchalant’ as the encounters with the diminutive mischief-makers grow more and more violent. Yet it’s still the freakos themselves that end up stealing the show, amusingly voiced and brought to leathery life by Michael W. Hamilton and his SFX team. The film doesn’t skimp on the mayhem-loving homunculi, and judging from how good company they are and how flexible their lore appears to be, a sequel following more of their escapades wouldn’t be unwelcome.

Frankie Freako may be nothing more than a silly lark made in tribute to other silly larks, but sometimes that’s more than what the doctor ordered. Kostanski is a helmsman with an eye for detail and an ear for tone that extends to multiple sub-genres of horror, and any trip to the fringes like this is a junky pleasure. Watch with a crowd, beer, hotdogs and Funions, and have a fun and freaky time.

Simon’s Archive – Frankie Freako (2024)