Since I reviewed “Marvel Zombies” on Disney+ last week, I thought I’d continue reviewing seasonally appropriate TV shows and movies for the month of Halloween.

In spite of its title, “Freaky Tales” is by no means a scary movie, but it’s bloody, brutally righteous and has a touch of the supernatural.

To paraphrase R. Lee Ermey in “Full Metal Jacket,” it’s got guts, and guts is enough.

“Freaky Tales” distinguishes itself from the wave of Eighties nostalgia media that’s followed the success of “Stranger Things,” by grounding its street-level action in the uniquely specific setting of Oakland, California, in 1987.

Before he passed away a while back, my uncle Allan lived for years in El Cerrito, and when I visited him, I was exposed to micro-doses of the local culture that makes Oakland its own distinctly wild animal.

Especially given the focus that Eighties nostalgia media so often reserves for more fashionable California hotspots such as Los Angeles, “Freaky Tales” achieves a refreshing novelty by capturing Oakland’s brawling, disadvantaged underdog spirit with such small-scale authenticity, even as its flashes of seemingly magical green light serve as a deus ex machina in key scenes.

“Freaky Tales” is technically an anthology of four intertwined episodes, all roughly orbiting around the insanely improbable real-life “Sleepy Floyd Game” of May 10, 1987, during which Golden State Warriors guard Eric “Sleepy” Floyd scored a record-setting 29 points against the L.A. Lakers, leading the Warriors to a 129-121 victory over the Lakers that still ranks among the greatest feats of NBA playoff history.

Jay Ellis plays Floyd here, just as Demaria Symba Jackson plays West Coast hip-hop pioneer Too $hort, who got his start in Oakland.

The actual Floyd and $hort put in cameo appearances, essentially approving of their fictionalized portrayals, just as Seattle Seahawks alum Marshawn Lynch pops up as a bus driver, but much like the even bigger Hollywood name-brand actor who makes a hilarious surprise appearance, “Freaky Tales” isn’t actually about any of them.

While Floyd is elevated to a literally mythic status, and $hort has the humility to allow his fictional alter ego to get taken down a peg, they’re not the protagonists of those tales, but merely the catalysts for the action that ensues.

Because the real heroes of “Freaky Tales” are the scrappy, misfit punk kids and the street-toughened yet still starry-eyed aspiring artists, who yearn for the limited, filthy world they all share to become something broader and better, where they might finally not have to fight for the right to simply exist, un-messed-with.

Anyone who’s been bullied should feel a surge of adrenaline when our picked-on and written-off protagonists band together, in united fronts, to turn the tables, and the tide, against those who carelessly assumed they could just steamroll over others, simply because their would-be victims seemed to possess less strength or fame.

Veteran nerd franchise actors Pedro Pascal and Ben Mendelsohn turn in performances that get the job done, but don’t really stand out that much, as (a) the reformed mercenary who feels remorse over his former ruthlessness, and (b) the arch-villain who’s a petty jerk, respectively.

More memorable is the sadly departed real-life Oakland native Angus Cloud, who’s effortlessly entertaining, in spite of having almost no material to work with, as Mendelsohn’s possibly autistic henchman, as well as Ji-young Yoo and Jack Champion, as a couple of defiant rebels and loyal friends, who dance around their deeper feelings for each other.

Fans of the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) will also spot Dominique Thorne as one half of a rap battle duo, who demonstrates a fire in this role that I wish her MCU casting as Riri “Ironheart” Williams had managed to capture.

I enjoyed the transitional animated sequences for their raw, sketchy quality, which felt well-suited to this anthology’s overall atmosphere.