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.
After fifty years of continuous writing, Stephen King has become a genre unto himself.
The unrivaled Master of Horror made a splash in 1974 with his debut novel Carrie and has been terrifying readers ever since. Two years later, Brian De Palma brought this shocking story to the screen with an equally electrifying horror film that remains a genre classic and a prototypical example of “Good For Her” horror. This dual debut seemed to open the floodgates, unleashing endless waves of Stephen King films.
From the highs of Misery, Cujo, and The Shawshank Redemption to the schlocky fun of Cat’s Eye, Creepshow, and Children of the Corn, the last five decades have seen just about every notable horror creator take a stab at the author’s massive collection.
In recent years, this singular subgenre has begun to burst at the seams, expanding to include Stephen King-esque fare. In 2016, brothers Matt and Ross Duffer debuted Stranger Things, a sci-fi series heavily inspired by two of King’s most famous books. The Netflix series remixes Firestarter and It by following a little girl with psychic powers and an intrepid group of kids on bikes who must battle an otherworldly foe and a sinister government agency. With its clever blend of modern effects and comforting nostalgia, this gateway horror series paved the way for Andy Muschietti’s It adaptation which remains the highest grossing horror film of all time.
Four years later, Mike Flanagan would create Midnight Mass, a spiritual adaptation of King’s second novel Salem’s Lot. Published in 1975, the book sees a tiny New England town torn apart by a centuries-old vampire. Though Flanagan’s story is perhaps more tender, both iterations of the classic horror tale follow close-knit communities shaken to their core by the presence of an ancient evil.
In addition to these recent hits, 2025 was a banner year for the Master of Horror. Audiences delighted in six mainstream adaptations, including the massively popular It: Welcome to Derry which chronicles earlier cycles of the titular clown’s reign. With this boost to King’s cultural cache, it’s no surprise that we’ve begun to see more unofficial adaptations of the author’s work and horror creators who build their own unique castles in King’s creative sandbox.
So what defines a Stephen King-esque story?
For the past fifty years, the prolific author has dipped his toes in nearly every subgenre from supernatural stories and grisly gore to western fantasy and science fiction. Including his vast catalogue of short fiction, King has tackled ghosts, demons, werewolves, zombies, aliens, mutants, and self-driving cars, not to mention bizarre monsters of his own creation. But what truly unites this vast array of horror is King’s focus on relatable characters. In his 2000 memoir/instructional text On Writing, the prolific author describes the amusement he finds in writing disparate characters, placing them in horrific scenarios, then exploring the ways they try to survive.
An unofficial Stephen King adaptation may take place in the author’s native New England — bonus points if it’s set in Maine — and reference his well-known heroes and villains. But what makes the King connection unbreakable is a character-driven story about average people who band together in the face of abject terror.
Weapons Captures Small Town Stephen King
Following his 2022 shocker Barbarian, Zach Cregger returned with Weapons, a sprawling story that begins in a doomed elementary school. On an otherwise ordinary day, Justine (Julia Garner) arrives at her desk to find that all but one of her students have disappeared. As the mystery grows increasingly violent, Justine and Archer (Josh Brolin), the father of a missing boy, find their way to the home of Alex (Cary Christopher), the class’ only surviving student. In some ways reminiscent of Salem’s Lot, Weapons swings wildly through the unfortunate town, introducing us to its flawed inhabitants as we watch their lives fall apart.
Cregger’s setup nods to a pair of King short stories. Both “Suffer the Little Children” and “Here There Be Tygers” tackle monstrous presences in elementary schools, but as Weapons reaches its final act, Constant Readers may remember another Stephen King tale. Featured in his 1985 collection Skeleton Crew, “Gramma” introduces us to George, a little boy tormented by an aging witch. On an afternoon alone with his sickly grandmother, the frightened child gradually realizes that the imposing old woman has been waiting for an opportunity to cast a spell that will extend her own life by possessing his body.
Alex finds himself similarly tortured by his aunt Gladys (Amy Madigan), a garish witch who orchestrates a desperate plot to sustain her own strength. Transforming humans into mindless weapons, Gladys has taken over Alex’s family home and lured his classmates to the basement. Holding them in a comatose state, she syphons off their energy to extend her own supernatural life.
Vastly different in many ways, both “Gramma” and Weapons hinge on a sinister witch who uses horrific magical spells to sacrifice the bodies of her vulnerable prey.
Hokum Echoes The Shining and 1408
It’s nearly impossible to watch a film about a haunted hotel without thinking of King’s third novel, The Shining. This icy story follows Jack Torrance, an angry writer struggling with his sobriety and a shameful incident haunting his past. Accompanied by his wife and young son, Jack has taken a job as the winter caretaker for the Overlook, a haunted hotel situated high in the Rocky Mountains. Snowed in, Jack finds himself tormented by dangerous ghosts who amplify his greatest fears.
Damian McCarthy’s Hokum follows a similarly troubled figure. Ohm Bauman (Adam Scott) is a surly writer who travels to the Bilberry Woods Hotel in rural Ireland to spread his parents’ ashes. Haunted by his own tragic past, Ohm finds himself trapped in the honeymoon suite, a decaying room that’s been permanently closed to protect visitors from a dangerous witch trapped within its walls. Visual nods to King’s text abound with woodcut figurines and an animated clock, mirroring ominous descriptions found in King’s text.
Another terrifying sequence sees Ohm staring with horror at a closed door, the only thing separating him from the approaching witch. As the door knob slowly turns, Constant Readers remember Jack’s narrow escape from the ghostly woman in room 217. And Ohm’s popular Conquistador books directly reference King’s long-running fantasy series The Dark Tower which follows a gunslinger named Roland Deschain tasked with protecting the nexus of the universe.
In addition to these thematic comparisons, Hokum bears striking resemblance to King’s terrifying short story “1408.” Collected in 2002’s Everything’s Eventual, the terrifying story follows Mike Enslin, a dejected writer who’s risen to fame penning essays about his adventures in haunted locations. Mike arrives at the Hotel Dolphin and bullies his way into the titular room, despite the manager’s dire warnings. McCarthy nods to this story with an ominously misplaced hotel room door, reminiscent of King’s entry to 1408, an unsuspecting portal that appears to move each time Mike looks away.
However, McCarthy’s most direct reference lies in a minicorder Ohm uses to capture notes. Trapped inside the dreaded honeymoon suite, this device offers well-timed messages while sitting next to a decomposing corpse. Mike records his time in 1408 with his own trusty minicorder. Described for the reader, his tape has captured the man’s slow descent into madness as the room prepares to swallow him whole. With conclusions that differ wildly in tone, both Ohm and Mike find their lives irrevocably changed by encounters with the supernatural realm.
Widow’s Bay Builds Its Own Version of Castle Rock
Katie Dippold’s Widow’s Bay has taken the idea of an unofficial King adaptation and turned it into an art form. The Apple TV series sees the residents of the titular island plagued by a curse that dates back centuries. Not only does the picturesque hamlet not accommodate wifi connections, those born on the island face certain death should they ever try to leave. Desperate to modernize the tiny town, Mayor Tom Loftis (Matthew Rhys) draws in waves of tourists just as a new cycle of terror begins.
Blending horror with deft comedy, Dippold makes cheeky references to King’s body of work. Tom warns that, “there’s something in the fog,” reminding readers of King’s 1980 novella The Mist. And Loftis’ own stay in the town’s haunted hotel sees him tormented by the ghost of a murderous clown. We even spy a vintage King hardback peeking out of a local book trade box.
In many ways Widow’s Bay feels like a new iteration of the author’s Little Tall Island, a tiny village off the coast of Maine. In addition to the 1992 novel Dolores Claiborne and a handful of harrowing short stories, this quaint fishing village is also the setting for King’s 1999 teleplay Storm of the Century. Premiering on ABC primetime, this tragic tale follows a terrified group of islanders who batten down the hatches for a dangerous Nor’easter only to find a more sinister threat lurking within.
Constant Readers may also be reminded of Castle Rock, the author’s favorite fictional town.
First introduced in the 1981 novel Cujo, the charming village becomes the star of Needful Things, King’s satire about consumerism. After several Castle Rock stories, we’re reintroduced to its residents as they gossip about the arrival of Leland Gaunt and the grand opening of his curio shop. Anything their hearts desire can be found in his varied inventory, so long as they’re willing to pay the price. Pitting cantankerous neighbors against each other, Gaunt ignites a wave of grisly violence by exploiting long-held resentments and feuds.
The town’s only defense against this supernatural threat is beleaguered sheriff Alan Pangborn. Still grieving the deaths of his wife and younger son, Alan struggles to connect with his older child and pick up the pieces of his shattered life. Also a widower, Loftis struggles to raise his own restless son and explain the strange details of his wife’s tragic death. Attempting to unravel the island’s dark secrets, Tom is aided by quirky residents including a surly fisherman named Wyck (Stephen Root) and Patricia (Kate O’Flynn), an earnest Town Hall employee. King’s own novels feature many of these proactive alliances with disparate characters combining their strengths to overcome insurmountable odds.
With Widow’s Bay renewed for a second season and Mike Flanagan’s Carrie series on the horizon, the future seems bright for new King adaptations, both spiritual and directly pulled from his catalogue. The prolific author also shows no signs of slowing down with two publications nearing release. His upcoming novel, Other Worlds Than These, is the long-awaited third Talisman book which teases direct ties to his Dark Tower world. Holly Forever will be a new installment of his crime series, offering a different kind of genre fare.
This embarrassment of riches spawning multiple worlds seems ripe for spiritual adaptation and will likely inspire horror creators for decades to come.
Kate O’Flynn, Stephen Root and Matthew Rhys in “Widow’s Bay,” now streaming on Apple TV.
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