Some movies don’t just entertain, they sneak into your life and set up shop in your memories, becoming part of the folklore of your youth. Freaked (1993) is one of those films. Directed by Tom Stern and Alex Winter (yes, that Alex Winter, the “Bill” half of Bill & Ted), it’s a carnival of grotesques, a live-action cartoon of corporate evil, celebrity rot, and mutant rebellion. It’s also one of the funniest, most spectacularly weird comedies ever buried by a studio.
My connection to Freaked began the way so many cult-movie obsessions do, with a rented VHS tape. A friend spotted the bizarre cover art at Video Update, took a chance, and brought it to what we generously called a “party” (really just a few comedy nerds eating chips and watching weird movies). We put it on that night and were instantly hooked. From then on, Freaked became a fixture in our little circle. Whenever someone new joined the group, we’d run through the essential films on our mental list, and if they hadn’t seen Freaked, that situation got corrected fast. Those tapes were sacred; we’d rewind them, quote lines until everyone was sick of us, and debate which scene was funniest. For years, I assumed the movie had been at least a modest hit; everyone I knew loved it. Only later did I learn the truth: Freaked had bombed spectacularly, barely released and almost entirely forgotten outside of pockets like ours.
Watching it now, that still feels impossible. How could something this wild and funny have failed so completely?
The story of Freaked is, fittingly, one about transformation. Alex Winter stars as Ricky Coogan, a spoiled former child star who agrees to shill for a toxic chemical called Zygrot 24, produced by the nefarious E.E.S. corporation, “Everything Except Shoes.” He travels to South America to promote it, dragging along his friend (Michael Stoyanov) and an activist (Megan Ward), only to stumble into the sideshow lair of Elijah C. Skuggs, a backwoods scientist–carnival barker played by Randy Quaid in full manic bloom. Skuggs uses Zygrot 24 to turn people into monstrous “freaks”, and soon Coogan and company find themselves mutated into a dog-boy, a worm, a bearded lady (played by Mr. T!), and a gallery of brilliantly grotesque misfits.
From there, the movie descends into a kaleidoscopic nightmare of latex, one-liners, and rebellion. The freaks revolt. The corporate villains close in. Chaos reigns. And every frame bursts with handmade, hallucinatory detail.
Visually, Freaked is astonishing. The creature effects, designed by the legendary Screaming Mad George, are tactile and over-the-top, an explosion of foam rubber and creativity. In an age before CGI, everything feels alive: the flesh folds, the goggle eyes, the rubber tentacles. There’s something joyful about how physical it all is, how every grotesque costume is also a work of art. The sheer amount of labor in those prosthetics is staggering, especially for a movie that was supposedly a “comedy.”
But the film’s real genius lies in its tone. Freaked manages to be silly and savage at the same time. Beneath the rubber and slapstick beats a genuinely subversive heart. It skewers corporate greed, toxic celebrity culture, and the moral vacuum of early-’90s media with a wit that still feels sharp. Ricky Coogan’s fall from self-absorbed actor to literal freak is more than just a physical transformation; it’s a grotesque parody of Hollywood itself, a place where everyone sells out and everyone eventually mutates.
The film’s humor is gleefully anarchic. It feels like a live-action cartoon spliced with a punk zine. Gags fly at machine-gun speed: sight jokes, meta-jokes, nonsense jokes. Some hit, some miss, but the cumulative effect is exhilarating, like watching a sketch show that’s been possessed by mad scientists. It makes sense when you realize that Stern and Winter came straight from The Idiot Box, their short-lived MTV series that channeled the same deranged energy.
And then there’s Randy Quaid’s Skuggs, a performance that sits somewhere between Tex Avery and Dr. Strangelove. Quaid chews the scenery like it owes him money, giving the film its manic heartbeat. Mr. T, meanwhile, plays the Bearded Lady with complete sincerity, finding warmth and dignity in the absurd. Even a young Keanu Reeves shows up in heavy makeup as Ortiz the Dog Boy, completely unrecognizable and clearly having the time of his life.
It’s easy to forget how ambitious Freaked was for a comedy. Fox reportedly gave the filmmakers around $12 million, a shocking sum for something this bizarre, before a regime change at the studio doomed it. Executives hated the movie, shelved it, and gave it a token theatrical run in just a handful of cities. The marketing campaign was nonexistent; most people never knew it came out. For a film about mutants being hidden away from the world, it’s almost poetic.
Still, Freaked refused to die. It found its people through VHS, cable airings, and later, DVD reissues. Fans championed it online, celebrated it at midnight screenings, and spread its gospel the way my friends and I did, by sharing that one tape, dubbing copies, passing it along like contraband. It’s the perfect cult film in that sense: you don’t find Freaked so much as it finds you.
Revisiting it today, I’m struck by how well it holds up. Sure, the humor is dated in spots, and the pace is pure early ’90s chaos, but the spirit is still electric. There’s a genuine handmade quality, an affection for the weird that modern comedies rarely attempt. In a media landscape dominated by corporate precision, Freaked still feels dangerous, unpolished, and alive.
And maybe that’s why my friends and I clung to it so fiercely. The movie’s celebration of outsiders mirrored our own little world, a group of strange kids trading weird movies and music, quoting lines, stumbling through a handful of chords, and laughing at the absurdity of it all. When I learned years later that Freaked had been a commercial disaster, it almost felt like a badge of honor. Of course it flopped. Of course, no one got it. That was part of its charm.
Like the freaks in Skuggs’ carnival, the movie made its own family out of those who embraced it. Watching it now feels like a reunion, a reminder that being strange, loud, or misunderstood isn’t a curse. It’s what keeps art alive.
Umbrella Entertainment’s Freaked Collector’s Edition isn’t just a reissue; it’s a full-blown sideshow in a box, a deliriously overstuffed celebration of one of the strangest cult comedies ever made. Available exclusively from the Umbrella website, this limited, numbered release restores Freaked in glorious 4K Dolby Vision and wraps it in a carnival of extras that perfectly suit its gleeful weirdness.
The packaging alone is a collector’s dream: a rigid case and slipcase featuring custom artwork by Thomas Nicolette, an A3 canvas poster, and even a set of custom stickers. The “SO YOU’RE A HIDEOUS MUTANT FREAK, NOW WHAT?” pamphlet is a brilliant touch, part parody, part collectible artifact. Inside, you’ll find a bumper 100+ page book packed with behind-the-scenes material, essays from Justin Beahm, Witney Seibold, and Mike Saunders, and fan art that captures the film’s manic spirit. A separate script book (with artwork by Nicholas Baltra) and the Freaked comic book round out a tactile, wildly creative presentation.
The new 4K restoration is accompanied by a dizzying suite of extras: multiple audio commentaries, two alternate cuts (the rehearsal and workprint versions), and a host of new interviews with Alex Winter, Tom Stern, Tim Burns, and key crew members like Catherine Hardwicke and Tony Gardner. Add in unseen behind-the-scenes footage, deleted scenes, trailers, makeup tests, and archival shorts, and you have the definitive edition, a mutant masterpiece reborn for collectors and freaks alike.
Freaked may have been buried by its studio, but in the suburban underground of VHS rentals and midnight screenings, it thrived. It’s not just a cult comedy, it’s a survivor.If you’ve never seen it, find it however you can. And if you were one of us who passed that tape around all those years ago, rewind it one more time. The freaks are still waiting.
Freaked (1993) 4K & 2 Blu-ray Collector's Edition will be available directly from Umbrella's website on November 5th. You can pre-order your copy today!
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