Editorials
What Does It Take to Make a Good ‘Leprechaun’ Movie?
We dig into the many films of the ‘Leprechaun’ series, examining what makes them work and what the next film should avoid in order to strike gold!
“No one takes a Leprechaun’s gold!”
Every St. Patrick’s Day it should be a mandatory tradition for all horror fans to indulge in the Leprechaun franchise in some way, even if it’s just for one film. Since 1993, these absurd horror films starring Warwick Davis as the titular Leprechaun somehow have spanned into a franchise that’s seen the release of seven films. While the quality of the Leprechaun films is certainly up for debate, there’s an absolute horror charm and personality to them that explains their longevity and why they’re still worth a watch. This series contains horror set pieces that you simply cannot find elsewhere, as this surreal series involves fantastical magic and a warped sense of humor to power its carnage in bizarre ways. These movies may not be good, but you won’t be able to take your eyes off of them. Accordingly, we thought we would dig into what makes this franchise work, piecing together the more successful decisions the series has made through its films, exploring the right ingredients necessary to make a “good” Leprechaun film.
What’s first important to recognize here is if a Leprechaun film should even be scary. The original film and Leprechaun 2 carry a very fable-like, urban legend sort of mystical quality to them. The second film even opens with a bizarre, flowery, “Ireland…Once upon a time” title card to kick things off. When this series began, it was a little hard to put your finger down on what sort of atmosphere it was trying to emulate. Tonally, the earlier films feel the most similar to A Nightmare on Elm Street almost, or maybe even more like Critters (to invite an obvious size comparison) with a tongue-in-cheek, magical vibe to it all. There’s a lot of pangs of Sam Raimi present, too in the camera work and practical effects. Honestly, the first film seems more like a Goonies type fantasy story involving Ozzie and Alex, than really focusing on the terror of this Leprechaun. In this case it’s not only until the final forty minutes that things really shift into horror mode. Certain moments that are supposed to evoke terror, like the Leprechaun chasing people in a tiny car or roller blades, just fall flat.
While horror might not be a dominant element of thee films, it should still certainly be present, and the best films from the series (see: Leprechaun 3) know how to play with the extremes of the franchise, nearly giving you whiplash in the process. The wisecracking Leprechaun is injecting humor into the horror right from the very first film (lest we forget the pogo stick death that he pulls off there), but it’s not until Leprechaun 3 that the scales seem to heavily shift towards a more humor-focused goal (with In the Hood and Back 2 Tha Hood nearly skewing the slant to more comedy than horror). It’s at this point that the films really just give into any passing whim they get, seeing the Leprechaun hang out with Elvis impersonators and letting his powers go off the rails entirely. Stuff in this film straight-up makes no sense, like the Leprechaun’s ability to make a woman come out of a man’s television screen, have sex with him, only to turn out to be a robot, electrocuting him. This is a series after all that has often ended with the Leprechaun exploding—not because it makes any sense, but just because it just looks fucking cool. That’s the mindset present here. Some might view these ridiculous decisions as being damaging to the franchise, but it’s because of the craziness that’s established here that things like the next installment being set in outer space, or subsequent ones making a meal out of “hood life” being possible in the first place.
This humor is also a necessary component of making a “good” Leprechaun movie because when you look at the latest product, Leprechaun: Origins that tries to bypass it entirely and focus on just being a horror film, it’s by far the worst and least effective of the bunch (but that might also have something to do with the fact that WWE Films is behind it). Turning something like Leprechaun into the next Descent where backpackers in Ireland become prey by a vicious monster isn’t what people want here. They want bad limericks and one-liners after someone has been bludgeoned to death by a shillelagh. Basically each of these films contain some sort of murder fueled by something that’d be borderline racist if “Leprechaun” were considered a race. Leprechaun 2 involves a a moment where beating the Leprechaun in a drinking contest is a heavy plot point. Leprechaun in the Hood sees a scene where rappers try to lace the Leprechaun’s weed with a four-leafed clover as a means of taking him down.
The mix that ends up working best here is to have the film’s horror banking off of its absurdity. Sure, humor might deflate the severity of what you’re watching, but there’s actually a turning point where things can be twisted so greatly that they turn back to being scaring. The “enlargement” death scene in Leprechaun 3 doesn’t make any sense at all, and at first glance looks really stupid. The more the scene plays out though, it manages to become increasingly disturbing. You can’t believe what you’re witnessing. In the series’ fourth entry, Leprechaun: In Space, a derivative take on Cronenberg’s The Fly sees Dr. Mittenhand (yeah, I know…) transforming into a terrible spider monster that’s also trying to kill the crew (in addition to the Leprechaun being giant-sized at this point…it’s a crazy movie). It’s completely unnecessary and heaping more on an already busy film, but you can’t help but love the hell out of what they’re going for. This is the same film where the Leprechaun gets onto the ship in the first place because a marine pisses on his corpse, and as a result ends up transferring into the marine’s urethra, only to later explode out of his erect penis once on the ship.
This isn’t a series about logic. It’s a series about visuals, and as long as you can deliver them, I think you’re doing good work with the series. There’s a scene in Leprechaun 2 where Cody sees a skeleton in the Leprechaun’s cave, remarks, “What a cliché!” only for the skeleton to then grab him with the Leprechaun bringing it to life, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Leprechaun: In Space features a death scene where the Leprechaun throws a plate at a man’s head, and for some reason it has a horrifying muppet-esque effect on the man. All of this is to say nothing of the zombie fly girls from the Hood installments, too.
On the other end of the spectrum, Leprechaun 2’s murders actually hold a pretty vicious tone to them (the film as a whole is also really rape-y, and the zenith of the Leprechaun’s usual lecherous tendencies). One death involves a bully going to make out with the blades of a lawnmower, with the Leprechaun’s magic making him think it’s an attractive girl. In the second half of the film a man gets his face completely steamed off, until he dies. Even Morty’s distended belly full of gold death is more disturbing than it is silly. These are images that really stick with you. Here the Leprechaun’s one-liners don’t take away from the fear factor, they augment your disgust. It’d be like witnessing a brutal car crash and then someone swooping in with a joke.
Another crucial aspect of constructing a worthy Leprechaun film falls into the category of the rules that this certain iteration of the Leprechaun is governed by. It’s never made clear if this is the same Leprechaun across the films (which span thousands of years both before, and after, the initial film), but there’s a terribly different ruleset accompanying him in each of his appearances. At times four-leafed clovers are his Kryptonite, others it is wrought iron, and sometimes his defeat is brought on by the destruction of his pot of gold. Can he grant wishes, or is he all about a magical flute? The machinations behind the Leprechaun aren’t necessarily important (Leprechaun 2’s whole getting a bride by making her sneeze three times doesn’t make any sense), just that they’re there. Leprechaun in the Hood and Back 2 Tha Hood largely turn their back on the gold and bride mythology, and their absence leads to them feeling like weaker entries accordingly.
Ultimately the best way to service up this franchise is by managing to pay respect to all of these touches, incorporating the perverse “Monkey’s Paw” justice that suits this fodder so well. Even containing overly cliché characters and reductive tropes isn’t suicide for something like this (and let’s be honest, horror in general) as long as it has the necessary self-awareness. This is such an unusual, atypical horror series that actually thrives on its batshit insanity, rather than it being a detriment. There’s no limit to what can be done here, and it’s why in one scene in the first film the Leprechaun’s hand can get severed off in a door, crawl back to him, and reattach himself, and then in Leprechaun 3 getting bit by the Leprechaun causes you to turn into some sort of were-Leprechaun beast. It’s almost like with Friday the 13th all you need is a hockey mask and a machete. Here are your tools, have at it.
I truly don’t think we’ve hit the end of this franchise, and with new installments in the Child’s Play and Hellraiser series happening sooner than later, there’s absolutely no reason that someone shouldn’t be given another chance to let this series—and Warwick Davis—shine once again. In the right campy hands, Leprechaun 8 could truly be the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.
Hopefully it won’t be too long until we hear someone melodramatically shouting, “Fuck you, Lucky Charms,” once again.
Auteur Filmmaking is a term that gets thrown around a lot these days in reference to big name directors like Quentin Tarantino and even Wes Anderson, but the truth is that film is a collective medium, and no one person can be responsible for every single aspect of a particular production. However, the smaller a film’s budget, the bigger the individual impact of every creative decision behind it – and the easier it becomes to identify a genuine auteur.
This isn’t necessarily a judgement of value, as blockbuster filmmaking comes with its own challenges and a good movie remains a miracle regardless of how big the crew is, but I’ve always been more interested in soulful b-movies produced by handfuls of passionate artists than blockbusters backed by creative armies.
That’s why I love exploring low-budget franchises that never left the hands of their original creators, as you really get to know the artists involved with these flicks and can accompany their evolution over a period of time. With that in mind, I’d like to invite readers to join me in this multi-part series as we look into a vampire saga helmed by one of the most fascinating auteurs of the 1990s. Naturally, I’m referring to Ted Nicolaou’s criminally underrated Subspecies!
The Birth of an Unlikely Horror Franchise
A proud graduate of the University of Texas’ Film program, Nicolaou got his start in the industry as a sound technician working on Tobe Hooper’s original Texas Chain Saw Massacre. From there, the filmmaker would go on to work for notorious indie producer Charles Band, the founder of both Empire Pictures and Full Moon Productions. According to Nicolaou, Band would usually contact him with an offer to direct a feature after more prominent filmmakers, such as the late, great Stuart Gordon, had already refused, meaning that his projects tended to have lower budgets and more inexperienced crew members.
The plans for Subspecies began almost immediately after the fall of Romanian dictator Nicolae Ceaușescu, with screenwriter David Pabian turning in an initial draft of the film after a Romanian producer contacted Band and explained that Romanian tax incentives could cover the cost of film production there so long as Full Moon took care of the post-production process. Since Stuart Gordon was unwilling to travel to Romania, Ted Nicolaou ended up taking over the picture.
However, while the financial incentives meant that this Romanian-American co-production could look and feel much more expensive than it really was, with Nicolaou scouting for locations in advance and selecting real castle ruins to be featured in the movie, the director was soon faced with an incredibly difficult shooting process. In interviews, Nicolaou would later describe the experience as something of a nightmare, with language barriers and the generalized distrust of capitalist outsiders sabotaging many of the team’s plans for the film.
In fact, the script, which had already been altered by Band, ultimately had portions of it rewritten by both Jack Canson and Nicolaou himself in an attempt to adapt the story to their unique limitations.
Radu Is One of Horror’s Greatest Underrated Villains
In the finished film, which was released directly to video in 1991, we follow a pair of American anthropology students, Michelle (Laura Mae Tate) and Lillian (Michelle McBride), as they reunite with their Romanian colleague Mara (Irina Movila) in her native land. The group intends to study the folklore surrounding the secluded town of Prejmer, but their research is cut short by the return of Radu Vladislas (Anders Hove) – the evil son of a vampire king (Angus Scrimm) who had previously established a truce with the region’s human residents. It’s now up to Radu’s human-loving half-brother Stefan (Michael Watson) to protect the girls from a fate worse than death as the power-hungry vampire seeks to control a magical artifact known as the Bloodstone.
Right off the bat, you may have noticed that the film’s premise sounds decidedly old-fashioned when compared to other vampire movies from around the same time. While the 1990s saw the rise of cool-looking bloodsuckers with badass elements borrowed from Westerns, as well as the sexy aristocrats of Anne Rice’s stories, Subspecies has a lot more in common with Nosferatu and the Hammer Horror series than any of its contemporaries.
This is both a blessing and a curse, as the film falls victim to overly familiar genre tropes while also standing out as a rare example of a ’90s vampire flick that isn’t afraid to flex its muscles as a Creature Feature. In fact, I’d argue that the presence of age-old clichés is a small price to pay when confronted with one of the most compelling vampire antagonists in all of cinema.
Named after Vlad the Impaler’s real-life brother, Anders Hove’s Radu is such a fascinating character and the main reason why Subspecies is still worth watching 35 years later. From his animalistic mannerisms to the joy he feels in simply existing as a chaotic creature of the night, and that’s not even mentioning the iconic makeup that almost certainly inspired the undead from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Radu is a hypnotic presence harkening back to a time when audiences didn’t mind purely evil villains that couldn’t be redeemed through tragic backstories or sex appeal.
Gothic Atmosphere on an Indie Budget
Of course, the film’s Romanian setting and authentic art direction do a lot of the heavy lifting whenever Radu isn’t around. From the masked festivals of the village to the visually interesting selection of local extras, Subspecies’ multicultural elements help it to stand out when compared to similar flicks from the ’90s.
That being said, Nicolaou’s unique eye for special effects and exciting action sequences – as well as Vlad Paunescu’s excellent cinematography – make the movie a delight for fans of expressionist cinema and old-timey gothic horror. While the crew is obviously dealing with limited resources, many of the flick’s blemishes (such as the odd stop-motion demons that serve Radu) end up feeling more like charming idiosyncrasies than actual flaws.
I’d argue that the only real issue here is pacing, as there are long stretches of film where the protagonists are simply bumbling around without realizing what’s really going on around them. Thankfully, the gorgeous visuals and surprisingly effective soundtrack usually make up for this. Besides, how can you dislike a movie where shotgun shells are loaded with rosary beads and our lead vampires duke it out in a dramatic swordfight that would feel out of place during the golden age of Hollywood?
Your overall enjoyment of Subspecies will mostly depend on whether or not you find low-budget corner-cutting and janky practical effects charming rather than distracting, but I know I’ll keep coming back to this Full Moon feature again and again in the future.
That being said, while this first movie is worth revisiting by its own merits as the birth of an indie horror icon, I’d like to invite you to join us as we look into the cult sequel Bloodstone: Subspecies II soon.
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