Story time! Leprechaun came out when I was in 4th Grade. A friend of mine was just as much of a monster head as I was, and when I first saw the TV spot for this charmed cult classic, we talked about it the next day at school. As a point of fact, we talked it up for weeks. "Will this be the new Freddy?" "It looks pretty scary." "I wonder how big it is." A note on the last question - we were stoopid. I knew what a leprechaun was, but the dimensions of a movie leprechaun had yet to be furnished in my hampered head. Hey, I was nine at the oldest! Anyway, it mattered none, as Mom wasn't going to let me rent an R-rated horror film. My friend didn't have this obstacle in his path, so he helped devise a scheme that would gull Mommy Dearest into bringing Leprechaun home for me to watch.
Basically, I told her about this kiddie flick called Leprechaun. I flimflammed a plot involving a little boy who befriends the malachite gnome (I'm sure that I used the exact same loquacity), and together, they go on a shopping spree using a pot o' gold. Not bad, eh? "But didn't you feel guilty?" Well, no. But only because I didn't think for a solitary second that she would fall for it. One look at the back of the box and there goes my jovial, G-rated rainbow adventure. You might be able to see where this is going...while out running errands, she rented Leprechaun for yours truly! She didn't look at the back of the box! Believe it or not, I wasn't defrocked. I wasn't even incarcerated. She actually let me watch the tape, and some would say that was punishment enough.
Obviously, I have viewed Leprechaun a few times since 1993. I'll be scrupulous and acknowledge the fetters of nostalgia connecting my ankles to this b-clover. It's funny; the sequels are infamously heave-worthy, yet the original tries to be a "good" feature presentation. There was money behind this. Granted, it wasn't an extravagant chunk of change, but compared to Leprechaun 4: In Space, it was Guardians of the Galaxy. The special effects are quite reasonable. At the end of the film (spoilz oh no), Lep is reduced to melting framework, seeping grue in a very old school way. You know what I'm talkin' 'bout. Ain't talkin' 'bout love! My love is rotten to the core. Ain't talkin' 'bout love! Just like I told you before. BEFORE! BEFORE! AWWWWWAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
For the life of me, I can't figure out why Jennifer Aniston is so embarrassed by Leprechaun. Okay, I guess I can, but it's not that bad. She has since appeared in much more reprehensible offal. Besides, if it weren't for this puppy, she wouldn't have landed the role of crack-addicted board game tycoon Latisha Dickwell in Friends. Apart from Warwick Davis, Aniston gives the best performance of the lot by a country mile. Mark Holton is beyond inconsistent as Ozzie, the developmentally delayed fellow who accidentally swallows a fucking coin. I swear to Ross, there are moments where Holton simply decides to stop acting. As if he didn't hear the call to action. It would be too difficult to cite specifics, but it's noticeable. Honestly, I just want to move on.
The kid is annoying. The "hunk" doesn't really exist. And those are your supporting players, give or take a meager quantity of dead cops. The pace is swift. If I were a writer, I'd say that Leprechaun rolls along effortlessly like the tiny modes of transportation that Lep uses throughout. See, it's that type of shit. How am I supposed to deplore a motion picture in which an evil leprechaun chases Jennifer Aniston in a rest home while seated in a wheelchair? I can't! Writer/director Mark Jones does his damndest to keep things visually interesting with sharp lighting and weird camera angles. After all these eons, I still appreciate his labor. The whole package has an enterprising spirit that twists my arm. You win, Mr. Jones. I enjoy your movie, despite the spongy script.
In terms of plot holes, Leprechaun is a horn of Amalthea. You were waiting for the Amalthea reference, weren't you? Well, there it is! End. This. Review.
Posted by Dom Coccaro at 6:53 PM