Wild Tales ★★★★☆
Let’s face it: there’s something oddly satisfying about watching people snap. Whether it’s someone finally letting loose after too much bad customer service or a long-suffering spouse having the last laugh at a wedding gone terribly wrong, Wild Tales taps into that primal thrill of losing control—yet does it with such dark humor, you’ll feel only mildly guilty for laughing.
Directed by Damián Szifron, Wild Tales is an anthology of six stories, all tied together by themes of revenge, vengeance, and the disintegration of civility. Each standalone segment pulls ordinary people into extraordinary situations where their restraint crumbles, and they let their worst impulses reign supreme. Whether it’s an ex-lover seeking revenge via airplane catastrophe or a demolition expert taking down a corrupt city towing office with literal explosives, these characters are pushed to the brink—and sometimes over it.
The unifying thread through Wild Tales is the “pleasure of losing control,” as Szifron so gleefully puts it. The film explores the thin veneer of societal politeness, revealing how easily it crumbles when confronted by injustice, bureaucratic madness, or personal betrayal. With each tale, the protagonists abandon reason and succumb to their most extreme impulses. This isn’t just about individual rage, though; it’s a biting commentary on modern-day frustrations—the kind of anger that bubbles just below the surface of our daily routines, ready to explode at the slightest provocation.
Szifron’s direction is both chaotic and tightly controlled—much like the protagonists themselves. The film embraces a frenetic, restless style with a pace that matches the characters’ mental unraveling. Visually, Wild Tales feels alive, constantly in motion, yet Szifron knows when to linger, drawing out tension in scenes like a master chef letting the suspense simmer before serving up a perfectly timed punchline. From desolate highways to sterile urban bureaucracies, the film’s aesthetic reflects the varied emotional landscapes of its vignettes.
The performances are uniformly stellar, with each actor bringing a raw, sometimes manic energy to their role. Ricardo Darín as the demolition expert in “Bombita” stands out, embodying a slow-burn collapse into chaos that is as tragic as it is hilarious. Julieta Zylberberg and Rita Cortese’s interplay in “The Rats” is another highlight, particularly Cortese’s darkly funny portrayal of a cook who has absolutely no qualms about murder. The film’s ensemble cast expertly navigates Szifron’s tonal shifts, from the absurd to the deeply disturbing, without missing a beat.
The beauty of Wild Tales is that it’s an anthology, so even if one story doesn’t completely land (I’m looking at you, “The Proposal”), another will sweep you up in its madness soon enough. The stories are balanced well, alternating between lighter, more farcical tones and darker, more intense explorations of human nature. However, not every segment hits the same level of brilliance; a few, like the hit-and-run saga “The Proposal,” take a more somber turn and slightly stall the film’s otherwise brisk momentum.
Watching Wild Tales feels like therapy for anyone who’s ever dreamed of going full “Bombita” on a towing company or fantasized about getting revenge on a condescending boss. It speaks to our collective frustrations in a world where rules and bureaucracy often feel stacked against us. Who hasn’t secretly wished for a moment of sweet, vengeful release in the face of daily injustices?
For fans of dark comedy and those who enjoy seeing the worst of humanity play out in gleefully absurd scenarios, Wild Tales is an absolute treat. Its blend of sharp social commentary, pitch-black humor, and moments of shocking violence make it a wild ride—just don’t expect to leave with your faith in humanity fully intact. If you’re looking for catharsis through chaos, this one’s for you.
