FRANKIE FREAKO (2024)

Studio:   Shout Studios
Director: Steven Kostanski
Writer:   Steven Kostanski
Producer: Steven Kostanski, Melanie Murray, Pasha Patriki
Stars:    Conor Sweeney, Adam Brooks, Kristy Wordsworth

Review Score:

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Summary:

An ordinary man has his boring life turned upside down after calling a party hotline that summons mischievous gremlins who destroy his home.

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Synopsis:     Show/Hide Spoilers

With his boss Mr. Buechler calling his office presentation "bland" and his artist wife Kristina agreeing he is a "square," nebbish Conor Sweeney questions if his life is too boring. While watching his favorite antiques TV show, Conor sees a commercial for a 1-900 party line promising an outrageous time with otherworldly gremlin Frankie Freako, which leads to Conor having several visions of the mischievous creature.

After Kristina leaves him home alone for the weekend, Conor decides to "bust out of his boredom box" by calling the 900 number. When he confirms he is ready to party with "the freako show," the phone erupts in lightning blasts that magically teleport Frankie Freako and his two irreverent companions, mechanical-minded Boink Bardo and gunslinger Dottie Dunko, into Conor's house.

Conor wakes the next morning to discover the three freakos trashed his home, including Kristina's sculptures. Confused, Conor tries kicking them out, but they show him Polaroids proving he partied hard with them the previous evening. In the ensuing commotion, Dottie shoots Conor in his neck, Boink plays a prank where he makes Conor think he beat Boink to death, and the three freakos continue damaging the house.

Conor tries banishing Frankie like a vampire by brandishing a cross. The sight of the cross causes Frankie to suddenly take on a demonic form as the cross bursts into flames and a fiery blast launches Conor into the TV, knocking him unconscious.

When he recovers, Conor gets a phone call from Mr. Buechler reminding him he was supposed to come to work on a Saturday to shred incriminating files on camera. Fearful of losing out on a promised promotion, Conor cleans up and rushes to the office.

Before Conor can begin shredding papers for Buechler, the office is besieged by the three freakos using the phones and computers to taunt Conor. After Conor explains what is happening, Buechler asks to go back to Conor's house to investigate the gremlins firsthand.

While Conor and Buechler search the basement for the freakos, Conor discovers his wife's gun collection is missing. Dottie tricks Buechler into stepping in a bear trap. Although he sees the cellar rigged with booby traps, Conor still accidentally triggers a gun whose bullet pierces a barrel of glue above Buechler. Buechler ends up helplessly glued to the floor.

After capturing him with a noose, Frankie forces Conor to watch a tutorial video titled "Freakos & You: An Educational Journey." The video explains that for centuries, the party-loving freakos lived in peace on their home planet of Freakworld. That tranquility ended when a ruthless freako named Munch appointed himself freaklord president and overtook the planet using an army of mechanical freako killers. Munch then enslaved the freakos by forcing them to operate a vast network of phone hotlines. Frankie, Boink, and Dottie revolted and invented a way to use the phone lines to teleport between Freakworld and Earth so they could once again party like freakos should.

Although he later hints there is something he hasn't revealed, Frankie promises Conor they have just one night of partying left before the freakos will be on their way. Conor agrees to join their destructive festivities, but he becomes concerned when Kristina calls to mention she'll need her destroyed sculptures for an upcoming art show. To help Conor, the freakos try piecing the sculptures back together.

The phone rings with a mysterious sound. Conor answers the call, which turns out to be Freaklord President Munch using the line to teleport laser-firing freako killers into Conor's home. The freako killers capture Conor, Frankie, Boink, and Dottie and teleport everyone back to Freakworld.

While Dottie is taken elsewhere, Conor, Frankie, and Boink are taken to see Munch, who takes an interest in making Conor his concubine. Munch calls for the Dial of Doom, a contraption built by his loyal lackey Crunch that creates a punishment based on someone's level of freakiness. Munch forces Crush to demonstrate the device, and it gruesomely melts Crunch's face.

Conor is forced to use the device next, but nothing happens because he is too bland. With Munch flying into a fit of frustration, freako killers begin shooting up Munch's office, allowing Conor, Frankie, and Boink an opportunity to flee.

Conor, Frankie, and Boink run into a brainwashed Dottie, but they inspire her to remember who she really is. Dottie returns to normal and rescues the others from the freako killers pursuing them. Meanwhile, Munch morphs into a massive monster.

Crunch helps Conor, Frankie, Boink, and Dottie escape in a minecart that teleports them back to Conor's house. Wielding a chainsaw, a mutated Munch follows everyone. Using his unlikely sex appeal, Conor lures Munch into a basement booby trap that blows off Munch's face, but Munch survives. Boink rescues Conor by making a cross out of two metal rods, triggering Frankie's demon mode, which in turn disintegrates Munch.

Kristina calls to say she'll be returning home in an hour, prompting Conor and the freakos to hurriedly put the house back together as best as they can. As Kristina surveys the damage, Conor apologizes for failing her. Assuring Conor everything is fine, Kristina pulls out a picture revealing she and Dottie went to gun college together. Kristina further explains that Dottie introduced her to Frankie, who helped give Kristina direction in life. Hoping Frankie could do the same for Conor, Kristina arranged to put Conor and the freakos together.

With Conor happy about his reenergized life and Kristina inspired that her broken sculptures now look like disruptive art, the couple invites Frankie, Boink, and Dottie to spend Christmas with them. Meanwhile, Mr. Buechler remains glued to the basement floor.

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Review:

Picture a person with the harmlessly milquetoast personality of Ned Flanders, except he looks like a former frat guy who became a slick car salesman, even though he doesn't exhibit any of those associated traits. That's Conor Sweeney, the character, not the same-named actor playing a presumably fictionalized version of himself. He doesn't drink caffeine. His favorite TV show is an "Antiques Roadshow" clone where every piece ends up being worthless. It isn't even clear if he knows what sex is, since he gets exhausted from holding hands in bed while his lingerie-clad wife Kristina rolls her eyes in bemused frustration.

With his boss Mr. Buechler, a fitting homage to FX icon John Carl Buechler, calling his office presentation "bland" and Kristina calling him a "square," Conor could use a jolt of excitement to break out of his boring box. Despite his wife reminding him what happened when he did something similar with a Freddy Krueger phone number, Conor seeks out some much-needed life spice by calling a 1-900 hotline for Frankie Freako, a Garbage Pail Kid-like gremlin who promises a wild night with the ultimate party animal.

Conor gets a whole lot more than he bargained for when Frankie teleports through the phone along with two mini-monster companions, gunslinging cowgirl Dottie Dunko and Boink Bardo, a Madballs-style cyborg who says "sha-ba-doo" the way Groot says "groot." More than mere mischief makers, these three freakos not only trash Conor's home, they destroy Kristina's sculptures, shoot Conor in his neck, and booby trap the basement. All that comes before choking Conor with a noose while he's forced to watch a video revealing how Frankie, Boink, and Dottie come from a planet where a ruthless overlord stopped their species from rightfully partying by enslaving everyone using laser-firing little Terminators.

Potential viewers need to know two things about "Frankie Freako." The first is that the film was created by writer/director Steven Kostanski. Part of the defunct Astron-6 collective that also included Conor Sweeney, Kostanski may be best known for horror-comedies like "The Editor" (review here) and "Psycho Goreman" (review here), which are very much in the same '80s-inspired vein as "Frankie Freako." If you're familiar with his sense of humor and retro style that replicates video store vibes from forty-year-old films, expect similarly irreverent fun from goofy visual gags and snark-laced lines like, "You look like a movie star? Which movie star? Gary Busey."

If none of the above means anything to you, know this instead. For monster kids of a certain age, "Frankie Freako" is the "Ghoulies" spinoff we never got, a Full Moon feature like Charles Band used to produce before he zeroed out his credit and credibility, and a charming chunk of cheddar that taps into the warm, fuzzy, and fugly feelings that make many of us nostalgic for the crude creature features of our youth.

Only three actors have title cards since much of the movie only involves Sweeney interacting with the three primary puppets, all of whom are amateurishly animated, intentionally and amusingly. Even though I was enjoying what amounts to a series of "Home Alone" setups where madcap mishaps explode into cartoonish chaos, I had a sneaking suspicion "Frankie Freako's" deliberate B-movie cheesiness would remain economical with just a couple of menacing muppets trashing Conor's suburban home for an hour. Then the film pulls a surprise out of its sleeve by teleporting everyone to the freakos' colorfully grim home world for an even wilder romp where stop-motion miniatures pile on more outrageously absurd adventures.

By this point, you should have a reasonable idea if "Frankie Freako" sounds like something ready to roll its bonkers ball up your alley. It certainly isn't intended for anyone who doesn't have an affinity for midnight movie mayhem from a time when it was par for the course for low-budget, humorous horror to be rough around the edges, and rough in the middle for that matter. "Frankie Freako" is entertainingly silly in a "smart" way, if you catch my drift. If you're not prone to laughing at larks like a faux ending that winks with the failed catchphrase, "I guess you could say things got a little freako," then this might not be your preferred type of party.

Review Score: 75

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