LEPRECHAUN
A review in the public domain
by The Phantom
(sbb@panix.com)
Certain bad films -- most often the very worst -- announce themselves and their intentions to a critic well before the theater lights dim, much as a "Bridge Out" sign on a dark and stormy night lets a motorist know that he or she must detour quickly or risk driving into an abyss. The Phantom felt just the sort of feeling of dread that such a motorist might feel as he arrived at Times Square's premiere palace of cinematic sleaze, the Criterion theater (now completely made over by United Artists in an attempt to make it seem more of a mainstream theater than its red-light roots will ever warrant) for a late- afternoon showing of LEPRECHAUN. Before entering the theater, he happened to glance upward at the Criterion's marquee; however much his spirits may have been buoyed by his ability to sneak out of work a tad early on Friday, they quickly slipped off the edge of his critical ravine when he read the film's tag line: "Your luck has just run out."
Such tag lines rarely lie. Consider the early Eighties bomb STAYING ALIVE, poorly directed by Sylvester Stallone, with terrible music by his brother Frank and equally appalling acting by John Travolta, still apparently not mindful of the various "Bridge Out" signs he had passed thus far on the highway of his career (including MOMENT BY MOMENT, a film unforgettable in its badness by the very few people who have seen it). In this ill-conceived sequel to SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER, Travolta plays an aspiring dancer who wants to land a part in a new Broadway show called "Satan's Alley." This Broadway show is billed in the film as "a musical trip through Hell," and as the audience finds out during the film's closing scenes, no description could be more accurate. That the film itself is redeemed only by the sheer comic awfulness of this Broadway show doesn't diminish the uncanny accuracy of such descriptions: when you hear that you are about to take a musical trip through Hell, chances are the film you are watching will go straight there with all due speed, in or out of a hand-basket.
As did the subject of this review, the so-called horror film LEPRECHAUN. The Phantom says "so-called" since it's not entirely clear what the filmmakers had in mind here; while there are elements of horror in the film, much of it is played out as a kind of sick comedy ("sick" here meaning "not well" or "not good," as opposed to "dark" or "sinister"). What is even less clear is why this film ever saw the bright lights of theatrical exhibition; such amateurish productions are generally reserved for the dank basements of direct- to-video release, where they join countless other D2V productions that usually exhibit more creativity and thoughtfulness in their cover art than they do in their screenplays or direction.
(It is a fine line indeed that separates D2V releases from their more legitimate theatrical brethren, but oftentimes that line serves as the point where talent and sufficient funding end and crass commercial- ization and quick-buck profiteering begin. The Phantom has thus far refrained from reviewing D2V releases only because of the sheer number of better funded theatrical releases that enjoy higher production values than typical D2Vs; that alone is worth something, since even if the films themselves aren't of much higher quality, most action and horror films play a lot better if their soundtracks are cranked up to ear-splitting levels and their pictures are projected on 27-foot -- rather than 27-inch -- screens.)
LEPRECHAUN is a horror film in the "revenge of the little people" mold and follows such successful entries as CHILD'S PLAY and DOLLS. But it follows them at quite a distance and at an equally great disadvantage -- while its predecessors benefited from the brilliant direction of Tom Holland and Stuart Gordon (respectively) and from clever and well-written screenplays, any chance that LEPRECHAUN might turn into an equally compelling film is wasted early on by nearly everyone involved. From director to writer, from actors to actresses, no one associated with this production appears to be very talented or even particularly interested in producing a decent horror film. The one exception is Kevin Kiner, whose effective score is the one bright spot in any otherwise nearly unbearable production.
The film's plot -- such as it is -- revolves around the title character; we discover in a prologue that his gold was stolen by Old Man O'Grady, who foolishly brings it home with him, thinking all the while that the leprechaun he tricked into giving it up would remain in Ireland and presumably file for personal bankruptcy protection. Needless to say, the little fellow does not follow Judge Wapner's instructions and take Old Man O'Grady to court; instead, he takes the law into his own hands and within just a few minutes causes the entire O'Grady family as much harm as a tiny little fellow in a cute green suit with big buckles on his shoes could conceivably cause.
Fast forward now to ten years in the future. (To be honest, at this point the Phantom would have preferred to rewind, but alas no remote control was available for rental at the snack bar, and he found himself stranded in the theater auditorium for the duration.) Arrives at the house an unlikely collection of stock exploitation characters, including a dopey father; his pretty and even more dopey daughter; and "three guys that paint": one an imbecile; one a lame-brained hunk; and one the most obnoxious child actor since ANNIE graced the silver screen. As the film drags along we find the dopey daughter and the lame-brained hunk strike up what passes for a cute flirtation in this kind of film, and she joins the three guys that paint in doing what is perhaps the saddest, least adequate job of housepainting since Mr. Blandings built his dream house. (As the film progressed, the Phantom got the feeling that these were three guys who also write horror film screenplays, which would certainly explain a lot.)
While the screen is filled to near overflowing with this torrent of action, the leprechaun pops in every so often and, well, pesters everyone. To say that this leprechaun is no Jason or Freddy is to understate the situation rather dramatically; although the Phantom tries mightily never to do anything to spoil a film for his phans, he will note that the film's body count just barely breaks into single digits. A cinematic "truth in advertising" law would have required a change in title to "LEPRECHAUN: PORTRAIT OF A NON-SERIAL KILLER."
In fact, although this Darth Vader of the Keebler elf set is no serial killer, there *is* a cereal sight gag in the film wherein the little fellow comes across a box of Lucky Charms (ho ho!) in one of a never-ending series of blatant product placements. The producers deserve some credit for actually thanking the two dozen or so different companies for their financial support of the film in return for an equal number of rather obvious product placements; but why any legitimate company would want to become involved in this production is a mystery, though one that the Phantom has been pondering ever since he discovered that Frito-Lay products Q especially Doritos Q and Jolt cola are the official snack foods of Duane, Belial, and the other unique individuals in Frank Henenlotter's wonderful BASKET CASE films. Another of the Phantom's favorite product placements involves the use of the "Reebok-cam" and the closely related "L.A. Gear-cam" -- two modifications of the ground-breaking Steadi-Cam that focus unerringly on people's feet. Walking, running, getting into cars, getting out of cars: if someone's wearing a pair of nationally-advertised athletic shoes, you'll get a long, lingering look at them.
As the action in the film heats up to a roaring simmer, we find that the writer has written us all into a corner: since Old Man O'Grady is the only one who knows how to kill the leprechaun, and since Old Man O'Grady has long since been sent to the North Dakota Home for Embarrassingly Stereotyped Irish Characters, our intrepid band of nitwits, lame-brains, and obnoxious child actors are forced to seek him out and discover for themselves how to end the film. (Sadly they, unlike the audience, cannot just up and walk out.) So Tory (the dopey daughter) goes to the Home to find O'Grady and ask him how he would go about killing a leprechaun, no doubt apologizing first for dragging him back into a film he'd successfully escaped nearly 80 minutes before.
But surprise! Old Man O'Grady isn't at the home after all; instead, we are treated to a very poor retread of the famous "attic" scene in PSYCHO, and Tory runs screaming back to the elevator. (This is in fact one of the only moderately scary scenes in the film, and by revealing it here the Phantom hopes he can dissuade his phans from seeing LEPRECHAUN's 91 other minutes.)
Then our luck really does run out. Apparently noticing that our band of merry morons *still* has no way to kill the pesty dwarf (or at least get him to stop screaming "I need me gold!" every five minutes like some strung-out Popeye gone terribly awry), the writer does something that still amazes the Phantom as he thinks back on the film's sorry plot: he has Old Man O'Grady *fall through the elevator's ceiling*, and tell Tory with his dying breath what she needs to do to end the film. For the first time in his reviewing career the Phantom was left speechless as he stared, slack-jawed in amazement, at the screen. Welcome to plot convenience playhouse, ladies and gentlemen! Please be sure to check your respect for the audience at the door and step lively to the film's closing scenes!
Which, in fact, come right on the heels of this elevonic scene of great convenience and least effort, a sort of Deus Ex Otis that will remain with the Phantom for a long time to come. Certainly he will think twice before yelling "and how likely is that?" at the screen while watching an improbable plot development in some future bad film. "O'Grady In The Elevator" might even make it into the Phantom's lexicon of film criticism, right after "Jasonized" and just before "Spring-Loaded Cat." (In a way, it's kind of a shame that so few people will ever see this film; the Phantom could never use a term casually that only a handful of his phans would understand.)
It goes without saying at this point that LEPRECHAUN is a complete waste of time and money. It is a film that in a better world never would have been made, and we can only hope that the independent production company responsible will go the way of Vestron and so many other over-extended and now bankrupt indies who thought it was as easy to make movies as it is to distribute videos. LEPRECHAUN is Trimark Pictures' very first theatrical release; in honor of the occasion, they spent the majority of the film's low budget on a barrage of television advertising in order to rake in as much money as possible in two weeks, pull up theatrical stakes, and get the film released into the even more lucrative video market in a couple months time. So let's all do what we can to see that this cynical strategy fails: avoid LEPRECHAUN like the plague, now while it's still in theaters and this spring when it hits your local Blockbusters. Although it is not (incredibly!) the worst film the Phantom has ever seen, it comes much too close for comfort.
: The Phantom : sbb@panix.com
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