Just like any other sub-genre of horror, anthology horror flicks can flop. Scary Tales never flops. It flips. See, what takes place here is that some really dark hooded figure reads these weird "scary tales" to these children that are just hungry to hear about some guy turning into a devil because of a satanic necklace, a guy that goes on a murderous rampage because he discovers his wife is cheating on him, and some selfish jackass that won't play catch with his tub-of-butter son because he's so obsessed with getting to level 21 on some PC game that looks eerily like Might and Magic: Swords of Xeen; that he actually gets sucked into the game for real and he has to fight ninjas and get kicked in the shin by some asshole gnome-dwarf guy. The main reason Scary Tales flips instead of flops is because it had me glued with anticipation to see what kind of unearthed shenanigans I was going to get myself into this time. If watching some fat redneck guy listening to music on a cassette walkman, swigging beer and yelling for his wife-"Hey Bernice, get me another Beer!" doesn't get you the slightest bit interested, then this film isn't for you. Oh, this dude also gets his head crushed in by a man's two bare hands, his eyes literally pop out of their sockets, and the camera zooms in on his belly button to transition to the next scene. Scary Tales has got class. And a bit of good taste.
Satan's necklace? What jewelry store is that sold at?
Geraldo as a bartender? Some fat loser in a green shirt drinking beer? A shitty garage punk/metal band noise-ing it up in the background? SOV madness!
"I deal with more assholes than a proctologist."
Dirt, rocks, and a yoohoo bottle cap.
The devil is in you, bro.
Mullets, turtle necks, mini skirts-this film is loaded!
"What does a blonde and a computer have in common? You don't appreciate them until they go down on you!"
Damn Satan, you've got some horrible dragon's breath. Go to the powder room and swish around some Listerine, yeah?
Usually women bitch about not spending time with their other half. Not the men. Grow a sack, sir.
The dashboard in John's car kicks ass. Especially since we have to be in his backseat staring at it through the camera for an eternity.
This isn't even close to being the greatest anthology horror flick I've ever watched. Nor does it have to be. All it has to do is make me smile and keep me guessing what kind of hilarious and ridiculous acts are going to take place before the show is over. Scary Tales delivers, and I honestly don't even give a shit that there is no wrap around to go along with it. The only thing close to that that's presented here is that hooded figure that might be death in physical form. There is no explanation. No reason. No back story. Just some evil looking shadow with a hood and two large red, glowing eyes that reads the three tales to the kids. That's all there is, and that's all you'll ever need. I extend my fleshy hand in thanks to Bleeding Skull! and Mondo for putting this film into print. Sorry to cut this short, but I have to find my mix tape from the 80's with Olivia Newton John, The Eurythmics and A-HA. Yeah I know. I don't care. I want to get physical. Bite me.
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