Editorials
‘Rumpelstiltskin’ – Revisiting the ‘Leprechaun’ Director’s Fairy Tale Horror Movie
By the time Rumpelstiltskin was in the works, the slasher model of yesteryear was replaced with something fresh but still familiar enough. Hence the many oddball slashers where the antagonist is neither human nor ordinary. From djinns to scarecrows, the decade saw horror turning to more fantastical inspirations. Mark Jones, whose career began in writing for cartoons and television, essentially kicked off the trend with Leprechaun. And had his first movie not been so successful, his next would have likely never happened.
After striking gold with Leprechaun in the early 1990s, Mark Jones looked to another magical icon for his second horror movie. Two specific on-screen depictions of Rumpelstiltskin influenced Jones’ own unique reimagining; he drew from Shaike Ophir and Billy Barty’s performances, respectively from the vintage anthology show Shirley Temple’s Storybook and an ‘87 movie directed by David Irving. Jones remembered Ophir’s take on the Brothers Grimm character to be particularly creepy. Now, the intentions of leprechauns — depending on the source — range from a little bit mischievous to outright evil, whereas Rumpelstiltskin is well known for stalking a mother and her baby. So if any classic fairy-tale figure was on the fast track to becoming a horror villain, it was that infamous imp with a talent for turning straw into gold.
With both Dino De Laurentiis and Aaron Spelling on Jones’ side, Rumpelstiltskin had the makings of another hit. De Laurentiis funded the production — with three times the budget of Leprechaun — and Spelling’s division at Paramount, Spelling Entertainment, intended to put Rumpy’s ugly mug on over 1,200 screens. Spelling Entertainment was, unfortunately, closed before the release, and the rollout was reduced to the point where hardly anyone saw the flick in theaters. Thankfully, underperforming movies like Rumpelstiltskin could depend on the home-video market back then for not only recouping losses, but also finding an audience.
Pictured: While holding Rumpelstiltskin’s current form, a jade figurine, Shelly approaches her husband’s photo over the fireplace and makes a teary-eyed wish.
With taglines like “When the fairy tale ends, the nightmare begins” and “It’s a scream come true,” Rumpelstiltskin is enticing to anyone who enjoys these kinds of dark reimaginings of storytime staples. The actual product, however, is more in tune with Jones’ first movie than the feast of severe fairy-tale adaptations from more recent years. Rumpelstiltskin largely runs on humor once the process to bring the monster into the modern age is sorted out. After establishing Rumpelstiltskin (superbly played by Max Grodénchik) was turned into a jade figurine, as punishment for his child-endangerment crimes in some vague part of Europe circa 1400s, he is freed and set loose on present-day Los Angeles. Both maternal terror and sheer hilarity ensue as Rumpy then searches for his next pint-sized target.
The unlucky recipient of Rumpelstiltskin’s latest baby-soul fixation is Kim Johnston Ulrich’s character, Shelly Stewart (née Miller, as in a miller’s daughter). Following the jarring time-jump from the Middle Ages to contemporary L.A. — the movie switches from Charles Bernstein’s eerie score to a Kool Moe Dee rap track — Shelly’s husband, a cop named Russell (Jay Pickett), is shot and killed in the line of duty. In a scene that foreshadows Shelley’s supernatural peril, the late officer went down while protecting a baby from a dangerous stranger. Ulrich’s now widowed character, who was pregnant at the time of her husband’s death, later becomes entranced by a certain jade talisman in an antiques shop. As if the powers that be willed this moment to happen so perfectly, Shelly does everything required to break the curse on Rumpelstiltskin; she exposes her baby to the object in question, and, most importantly, makes a teary-eyed wish without realizing the consequences.
Up until Rumpelstiltskin’s return, this movie appears serious. Melodramatic, but serious. Allyce Beasley’s character, Shelly’s tragically single best friend Hildy, keeps things somewhat light after Russell’s death. In due time, though, Hildy passes the torch of comic relief to Rumpelstiltskin. All it takes is a swift kick to the villain’s groin, a broomstick down the windpipe, and a few quips to fully realize the type of movie in store. While silliness was on brand for multiple horror offerings made during this time period, Rumpelstiltskin lets the cheese flow like a fondue fountain.
Pictured: Rumpelstiltskin enters a graveyard at night to finish his soul-stealing ritual.
Shelly’s wish for her late husband to meet his son, of course, comes at a high cost. Audiences should know the drill by now. This is where the movie creates the necessary MacGuffin for keeping an otherwise threadbare story moving. Rumpelstiltskin acts like a heat-seeking missile for baby John, and he chases both mother and son across parts of Acton, California. Observant viewers will recognize the desert highway setting as a shooting location in Steven Spielberg’s Duel. Instead of a malevolent oil tanker hot on Dennis Weaver’s tail, though, Jones’ cast is subjected to a wise-ass demon behind the wheel. One who, somehow, knows how to drive motor vehicles. The movie goes with the flow, and so must the viewers.
Rumpelstiltskin acknowledging its own villain is from a widely recognized fairy tale creates a small issue for anyone who cares about story logic: Shelly very well knows how to ward off her attacker. The main character even brings up the what’s-my-name business before the movie conveniently forgets and flies into several lengthy chase sequences. Jones seems aware, though, because this potential plot cure-all is slightly altered once put in use. As it turns out, saying Rumpelstiltskin’s name once is simply not enough to defeat him. There are also these other adjustments to the original fairy tale that keep the movie less calculable. These changes include having real-life comic Tommy Blaze play Shelly’s brave (but obnoxious) knight-in-not-so-shining-armor, and making Rumpelstiltskin vulnerable to straw and chaff.
Rumpelstiltskin hails from a rather slandered era of horror: the 1990s. In what many critics deem a substantial lull (or low point) for horror cinema, the bulk of the pre-Scream output is especially scrutinized. The direct-to-video entries are dismissed — Rumpelstiltskin did, in fact, have a limited theatrical release, but most folks first saw it on home video — and their proliferation is often used as glaring evidence of the period’s decline in quality. Another bone of contention is the increased presence of deliberate comedy in ’90s horror. This movie squarely lands on the goofier side of the trend, however, its sense of humor neither comes off as smug nor self-biting. And despite his craving for whimsy, Jones still showed regard for the horror genre. With the help of cinematographer Douglas Milsome, Jones delivered considerable shots and scenes not always available in low-budget fare such as this. Parts of the third act admirably channel Universal’s classic horror movies and monsters.
Rumpelstiltskin‘s nutty execution makes it, at the very least, memorable. (How can anyone forget that “fucketh me” set-piece?) Max Grodénchik’s all-in, physically demanding performance also does not get enough kudos as horror enthusiasts reappraise the genre’s recent history. Those curious to revisit this movie but are deterred by its expensive resale prices are in luck; Rumpelstiltskin has since been remastered and restored to its original widescreen glory. So, now is as good a time as any to revisit this screwy fairy-tale adaptation.
Pictured: Max Grodénchik as Rumpelstiltskin.
Soon after the New Hollywood generation took over the entertainment industry, they started having children. And more than any filmmakers that came before—they were terrified. Rosemary’s Baby (1968), The Exorcist (1973), The Omen (1976), Eraserhead (1977), The Brood (1979), The Shining (1980), Possession (1981), and many others all deal, at least in part, with the fears of becoming or being a parent. What if my child turns out to be a monster? is corrupted by some evil force? or turns out to be the fucking Antichrist? What if I screw them up somehow, or can’t help them, or even go insane and try to kill them? Horror has always been at its best when exploring relatable fears through extreme circumstances. A prime example of this is Larry Cohen’s 1974 monster-baby movie It’s Alive, which explores the not only the rollercoaster of emotions that any parent experiences when confronted with the difficulties of raising a child, but long-standing questions of who or what is at fault when something goes horribly wrong.
Cohen begins making his underlying points early in the film as Frank Davis (John P. Ryan) discusses the state of the world with a group of expectant fathers in a hospital waiting room. They discuss the “overabundance of lead” in foods and the environment, smog, and pesticides that only serve to produce roaches that are “bigger, stronger, and harder to kill.” Frank comments that this is “quite a world to bring a kid into.” This has long been a discussion point among people when trying to decide whether to have kids or not. I’ve had many conversations with friends who have said they feel it’s irresponsible to bring children into such a violent, broken, and dangerous world, and I certainly don’t begrudge them this. My wife and I did decide to have children but that doesn’t mean that it’s been easy.
Immediately following this scene comes It’s Alive’s most famous sequence in which Frank’s wife Lenore (Sharon Farrell) is the only person left alive in her delivery room, the doctors clawed and bitten to death by her mutant baby, which has escaped. “What does my baby look like!? What’s wrong with my baby!?” she screams as nurses wheel her frantically into a recovery room. The evening that had begun with such joy and excitement at the birth of their second child turned into a nightmare. This is tough for me to write, but on some level, I can relate to this whiplash of emotion. When my second child was born, they came about five weeks early. I’ll use the pronouns “they/them” for privacy reasons when referring to my kids. Our oldest was still very young and went to stay with my parents and we sped off to the hospital where my wife was taken into an operating room for an emergency c-section. I was able to carry our newborn into the NICU (natal intensive care unit) where I was assured that this was routine for all premature births. The nurses assured me there was nothing to worry about and the baby looked big and healthy. I headed to where my wife was taken to recover to grab a few winks assuming that everything was fine. Well, when I awoke, I headed back over to the NICU to find that my child was not where I left them. The nurse found me and told me that the baby’s lungs were underdeveloped, and they had to put them in a special room connected to oxygen tubes and wires to monitor their vitals.
It’s difficult to express the fear that overwhelmed me in those moments. Everything turned out okay, but it took a while and I’m convinced to this day that their anxiety struggles spring from these first weeks of life. As our children grew, we learned that two of the three were on the spectrum and that anxiety, depression, ADHD, and OCD were also playing a part in their lives. Parents, at least speaking for myself, can’t help but blame themselves for the struggles their children face. The “if only” questions creep in and easily overcome the voices that assure us that it really has nothing to do with us. In the film, Lenore says, “maybe it’s all the pills I’ve been taking that brought this on.” Frank muses aloud about how he used to think that Frankenstein was the monster, but when he got older realized he was the one that made the monster. The aptly named Frank is wondering if his baby’s mutation is his fault, if he created the monster that is terrorizing Los Angeles. I have made plenty of “if only” statements about myself over the years. “If only I hadn’t had to work so much, if only I had been around more when they were little.” Mothers may ask themselves, “did I have a drink, too much coffee, or a cigarette before I knew I was pregnant? Was I too stressed out during the pregnancy?” In other words, most parents can’t help but wonder if it’s all their fault.
At one point in the film, Frank goes to the elementary school where his baby has been sighted and is escorted through the halls by police. He overhears someone comment about “screwed up genes,” which brings about age-old questions of nature vs. nurture. Despite the voices around him from doctors and detectives that say, “we know this isn’t your fault,” Frank can’t help but think it is, and that the people who try to tell him it isn’t really think it’s his fault too. There is no doubt that there is a hereditary element to the kinds of mental illness struggles that my children and I deal with. But, and it’s a bit but, good parenting goes a long way in helping children deal with these struggles. Kids need to know they’re not alone, a good parent can provide that, perhaps especially parents that can relate to the same kinds of struggles. The question of nature vs. nurture will likely never be entirely answered but I think there’s more than a good chance that “both/and” is the case. Around the midpoint of the film, Frank agrees to disown the child and sign it over for medical experimentation if caught or killed. Lenore and the older son Chris (Daniel Holzman) seek to nurture and teach the baby, feeling that it is not a monster, but a member of the family.
It’s Alive takes these ideas to an even greater degree in the fact that the Davis Baby really is a monster, a mutant with claws and fangs that murders and eats people. The late ’60s and early ’70s also saw the rise in mass murderers and serial killers which heightened the nature vs. nurture debate. Obviously, these people were not literal monsters but human beings that came from human parents, but something had gone horribly wrong. Often the upbringing of these killers clearly led in part to their antisocial behavior, but this isn’t always the case. It’s Alive asks “what if a ‘monster’ comes from a good home?” In this case is it society, environmental factors, or is it the lead, smog, and pesticides? It is almost impossible to know, but the ending of the film underscores an uncomfortable truth—even monsters have parents.
As the film enters its third act, Frank joins the hunt for his child through the Los Angeles sewers and into the L.A. River. He is armed with a rifle and ready to kill on sight, having divorced himself from any relationship to the child. Then Frank finds his baby crying in the sewers and his fatherly instincts take over. With tears in his eyes, he speaks words of comfort and wraps his son in his coat. He holds him close, pats and rocks him, and whispers that everything is going to be okay. People often wonder how the parents of those who perform heinous acts can sit in court, shed tears, and defend them. I think it’s a complex issue. I’m sure that these parents know that their child has done something evil, but that doesn’t change the fact that they are still their baby. Your child is a piece of yourself formed into a whole new human being. Disowning them would be like cutting off a limb, no matter what they may have done. It doesn’t erase an evil act, far from it, but I can understand the pain of a parent in that situation. I think It’s Alive does an exceptional job placing its audience in that situation.
Despite the serious issues and ideas being examined in the film, It’s Alive is far from a dour affair. At heart, it is still a monster movie and filled with a sense of fun and a great deal of pitch-black humor. In one of its more memorable moments, a milkman is sucked into the rear compartment of his truck as red blood mingles with the white milk from smashed bottles leaking out the back of the truck and streaming down the street. Just after Frank agrees to join the hunt for his baby, the film cuts to the back of an ice cream truck with the words “STOP CHILDREN” emblazoned on it. It’s a movie filled with great kills, a mutant baby—created by make-up effects master Rick Baker early in his career, and plenty of action—and all in a PG rated movie! I’m telling you, the ’70s were wild. It just also happens to have some thoughtful ideas behind it as well.
Which was Larry Cohen’s specialty. Cohen made all kinds of movies, but his most enduring have been his horror films and all of them tackle the social issues and fears of the time they were made. God Told Me To (1976), Q: The Winged Serpent (1982), and The Stuff (1985) are all great examples of his socially aware, low-budget, exploitation filmmaking with a brain and It’s Alive certainly fits right in with that group. Cohen would go on to write and direct two sequels, It Lives Again (aka It’s Alive 2) in 1978 and It’s Alive III: Island of the Alive in 1987 and is credited as a co-writer on the 2008 remake. All these films explore the ideas of parental responsibility in light of the various concerns of the times they were made including abortion rights and AIDS.
Fifty years after It’s Alive was initially released, it has only become more relevant in the ensuing years. Fears surrounding parenthood have been with us since the beginning of time but as the years pass the reasons for these fears only seem to become more and more profound. In today’s world the conversation of the fathers in the waiting room could be expanded to hormones and genetic modifications in food, terrorism, climate change, school and other mass shootings, and other threats that were unknown or at least less of a concern fifty years ago. Perhaps the fearmongering conspiracy theories about chemtrails and vaccines would be mentioned as well, though in a more satirical fashion, as fears some expectant parents encounter while endlessly doomscrolling Facebook or Twitter. Speaking for myself, despite the struggles, the fears, and the sadness that sometimes comes with having children, it’s been worth it. The joys ultimately outweigh all of that, but I understand the terror too. Becoming a parent is no easy choice, nor should it be. But as I look back, I can say that I’m glad we made the choice we did.
I wonder if Frank and Lenore can say the same thing.
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