Not the One With Jewish Gary Oldman

If there’s one thing the woman in me finds frightening, it’s pregnancy.

Think about it.

There’s something GROWING INSIDE YOU. EATING what you eat. INHALING what you breathe. FEELING what you feel. It’s just SITTING there like some couch surfing broke friend, giving you nothing in return for nine months but morning sickness, bodily restrictions, and, if you’re taking your prenatal vitamins, outstanding hair.

(Based on observing friends and family carrying children, my understanding is that the only benefits one reaps during pregnancy are an increased chance of getting a seat on the subway and truly outstanding hair.)

Yeah yeah yeah, I know. The horrors of stretch marks and labor pains are eradicated by the birth of your beautiful perfect baby and all that jazz. Sure. I believe you. But what if said offspring is…

Not. Quite. Right.

Quick Plot: Brooke Adams plays Virginia Marshall, a children’s book author happily married to a successful lawyer and living the white collar dream of any American in the 1980s. The only thing missing is a baby, something Virginia and hubby Brad have been trying to make for several years but have hit roadblocks with both infertility and the nagging specter of Virginia’s occasional bouts with depression.

Enter James Karen as a wait-list-worthy gynecology superstar known for his stunning success with in vitro treatment. Past beneficiaries include Virginia’s annoyingly proud pal Cindy and a young Kathy Griffin’s New Age man-hating girlfriend. Never mind the fact that Cindy’s supposedly genius toddler drowned her older brother or that Kathy Griffin’s wife has turned violent. The baby seems fine so all must be in order…right?

The Unborn comes 17 long years after the better known mutated killer baby film It’s Alive but still follows in its tiny footsteps. Both films are interested in the oddness of the childbirth process, though The Unborn focuses most of its attention on the actual period of pregnancy. Where Larry Cohen’s wonderful It’s Alive trilogy was ultimately about a reluctant man coming to terms with fatherhood, The Unborn is more a scientifically minded Rosemary’s Baby exploring a hesitant mother-to-be learning her reservations might have been more justified than common cold feet.

As Virginia, Brooke Adams is the real strength of The Unborn. She’s a hard-working professional woman with a sarcastic sense of humor, someone who has to fight the urge to roll her eyes every time fellow women speak of the glow of motherhood and wonders of their perfect children. Both the writing and performance are impressively sharp for Virginia, making her come off as an actual person that you or I could certainly know (or even, in some cases, actually be). It’s a shame then that the ending ultimately betrays her.

I’m not going to spoil The Unborn, but if you’ve seen almost any My Child Is Evil film, there’s a good chance you’ll see the final shot coming. Well, I doubt your imagination will be that specific since once we meet the baby, it’s quite a unique little work of puppetry, but still: the outcome is obvious, and yet, quite unearned.

Directed by Rodman Leprechaun 2 Flender, The Unborn is a far better film than its VHS-only reputation might lead you to believe. Because Adams and the character-based writing (by “Henry Dominic, which is apparently a pseudonym for the Catwoman team of John D. Brancato and Michael Ferris) is so good, the audience is led to believe we’re watching an ambitious thriller about parenthood, the medical industry, and what it means to carry a child. Virginia’s past with clinical depression is a fascinating story thread that goes far in establishing her fears even before the mysterious rashes and cat-killing fetus shows its true colors. Much like how It’s Alive began with parents who almost terminated their pregnancy at its first signs, The Unborn starts with a self-aware woman unsure if she has what it takes to be a good mother. Sure, the film ultimately resolves that, but it seems like there was a more interesting answer to that question.

“Dominic’s” script also flirts with some amusing satire on the general culture of pregnancy and parenthood. Virginia’s yuppie friends set the bar for having obnoxious pride in their kids, something dashed rather horribly when one of them commits fratricide. The lighter touch is Griffin and her girlfriend espousing crystal energy and placenta power to a group of dubious non-lesbians. It’s still funny 21 years later.

So what doesn’t work about The Unborn? Sadly, the actual horror movie portion. Once we meet Mini Marshall, all the carefully wrought tension evaporates into bad puppetry and a rushed conclusion. At just 80 minutes long, The Unborn could certainly have taken more time in its resolution, though any more time spent showing the actual monster would have only hurt all the work building it up.

Ah well. The baby still looks better than Bijou Philips’ monster kid in the It’s Alive remake.

As does the crayon drawing made by my cat.

High Points

With the help of a surprisingly smart (when dealing with character) script, Brooke Adams absolutely nails the role of Virginia. Like Mia Farrow’s Rosemary, Virginia is pretty much onscreen for the film’s entire running length, making it vital that Adams registers with the audience. She does.

Low Points

Blargh

Lessons Learned

A dozen or so children still read in this country

There is something called placenta recipes and they are apparently delicious

The best venue to reveal the horror of expensive fertility clinics is generally not a lightweight morning talkshow

Look! It’s…

A young dark-haired Lisa Kudrow as James Karen’s assistant

Rent/Bury/Buy

The Unborn is currently streaming on Netflix and anyone with a passing interest in pregnancy horror will certainly get something out of it. My disappointment comes from the film’s squandered potential, but thanks to Adams’ performance and the occasionally very clever script, the film is still more than worthy of a watch. Especially if, like me, you just want the world to acknowledge how weird the act of pregnancy truly is.

Darby O'Gill Babysits The Children

It’s time for that monthly switcheroo with T.L. Bugg! I love these swaps for two reasons: 

1-It gives me a chance to read one of my very favorite blogger’s takes on movies I either love or just REALLY want other people to watch (giggle giggle Nutcracker In 3D)

2-It’s my monthly reminder to mail in my rent check. 

For this Very Special Shortening Swap, I assigned Zach 2008’s The Children, one of my favorite recent horror films from a certain subgenre I dig more than grilled cheese. He went in a very different, more child-friendly (and less child-killing) direction with 1959’s Darby O’Gill & the Little People.

not the right little people

Quick Plot: After an awesome credits sequence wherein Walt Disney writes a note thanking leprechauns, we meet the titular Darby, an eccentric Irish caretaker well known at his local tavern for telling tales involving little people. 

Nostalgia alert! Before the days of trivia night, there was the crazy old man obsessed with leprechauns to keep your beer tasting better.

One day, the owner of the estate Darby works on with his daughter Katie rides into town to force him into retirement. The time has come to replace the aging leprechaun lover with Michael McBride, a strapping young man from Dublin played with strange bland gentleness by Sean Connery. Darby isn't ready to tell Katie about the change and instead spends an evening hanging out with King Brian and a whole kingdom of very small, very energetic little people who live inside a magical mountain.

Let's get this out of the way: partying with leprechauns ROCKS. Literally and figuratively, since a) they dance like mad b) they're not shy about the beverages and c) little dudes really like rhyming games. If such a colony invited me to live out my last days on their wine and tunes, I wouldn't have to eat a bowl of Lucky Charms before signing the lease.

But Darby, bless his drunken heart, is a tad reluctant when King David tells him to stay forever, using his wiles to instead trick his old pal and return home to big people alcohol. The King follows him for AN ENTIRE NIGHT OF DRINKING, rendering him useless as a magician come the morning sun. 

As I try to work through the plot threads of Darby O'Gill & the Little People, I'm struck by how much goes on. Perhaps I've had a few too many Guinnesses myself because I'm several paragraphs into a synopsis and haven't even detailed Katie's inevitable relationship with James Bond, the token bad guy angling for Darby's job, the tavern filled with villagers thirsty for more leprechaun tales, King David's mildly sinister plan to further eff with Darby and his wishes, and the death-bringing banshee who figures prominently in the final act.

Got all that? No? Here, have some more stout.

Or whiskey.

Or wine.

Or Jim Bean, J&B, Zima, Tequiza, or whatever poison you prefer. Because I say this in true: Darby O'Gill is the most joyfully alcoholic kids film I've ever seen. I wouldn't be surprised if an entire generation of Baby Boomers can look back to that sunny afternoon at the cinema as the turning point in their lives and livers. 

It's absolutely amazing.

Also, a super fun and charming fantasy! I'm a huge fan of children's entertainment that appeals--without pandering to--adult sensibilities (thus explaining my unadulterated adoration of all things Muppet), and Darby O'Gill is one of those remnants from a time past. Though the heavy Irish accents may confuse a few kids (self included), the film is colorful and cute enough to entertain the little ones while offering plenty of smart dialogue and likable relationships for their parents. It's almost the perfect family film, so long as your family isn't Mormon or dealing with alcoholism. 

And by the way, if I found a leprechaun right now, I'd use my first wish to get "It's almost the perfect film, so long as your family isn't Mormon or dealing with alcoholism" as a DVD box cover quote. A girl can dream...

High Points

I'm all for equal opportunity acting jobs for little people (Tiptoes, how you disgust/fascinate/thrill me) but as more recently seen in Elf, the forced perspective style to make the leprechauns, well, leprechaunish is genuinely charming

Apparently the film’s big singing number, “My Darling Irish Girl” was quite a hit, and not just because it maybe included the vocals of a future Highlander. As with most of the instrumental jigs, it’s a pretty darn catchy tune

Low Points

I know, I know: it was a different era in the world, but that doesn't make the threat “I'll throw you in a river and drown you like a kitten" any less disturbing

Lessons Learned

When you sup with the devil, you need a long spoon

Leprechauns have plenty of stamina, but drinking games are still an effective means of manipulating their gifts for your cause

Alcohol is great no matter how tall or short you are

The Winning Line

“Your heart’s as cold as a wet Christmas!”

Is it Albert Sharpe's delivery that makes this sound like the world's most felt insult? The unified gasp from the leprechauns when they hear it? Or really, is this just the greatest thing to ever say to anyone ever?

Rent/Bury/Buy

Darby O'Gill & the Little People is the kind of sunny and strange film I wish I knew of as a kid. It has catchy musical numbers, copious amounts of alcohol, James Bond, and leprechauns. Drunk leprechauns. Drunk leprechauns that don't want to kill you, they just want to dance! And drink. Did I mention drink? The DVD includes a few cute extras worth a gander though sadly, no alcohol. That's kind of shocking since just about every slide in the reel is soaked in stout. Did I mention there's some drinking in this movie? Sorry, I tend to repeat myself when I've had a few Guinnesses (Guinni?). What was I saying?

Right. Okay, so get wasted with Darby, then sober up with T.L. Bugg's review of a truly terrifying horror film. 

Then wash away the fear with more drinking. If you’re lucky, the leprechauns will bring the booze.

Where's M'Casino Player's Card?

I know what you’re thinking. ‘Here it is St. Patrick’s Day and all Emily could do was act as 85% of the horror blogosphere and post a review of a Leprechaun movie? Way to think inside the box.’

Thanks guys, thanks a lot. Excuse me while I crouch in a corner now and cry, drinking my sorrows away with some Guinness and soaking up my tears with Irish soda bread. All I wanted to do was be seasonal.  

Quick Plot: At a Las Vegas pawn shop, a one-legged/one-eyed man frantically accepts $20 from Gupta (the store owner who politely reminds the audience of his name by referring to himself in the third person) for a brass statue of, you guessed it, a leprechaun.

Who?

A leprechaun!

Herein lies my first (and later, second) issue with Leprechaun 3: at several points in the film, a character asks our titular villain “Who are you?” His answer always remains as thus:

“I’m a leprechaun!”

Yes, by this time in history, Wayne’s World had already cemented that line as a cultural gold coin, but the last time someone asked me who I was, you can bet your buckled shoe my response was not “I’m a human being.”

But why am I wasting time on the details when I’ve got a movie about a leprechaun turning mob goons into human slot machines? Onward!

So Gupta reawakens the unnamed leprechaun, taking one of his shillings while researching leprechaun lore via an adorably dated CD-ROM with Happy Little Elves-like animation. Meanwhile, Scott, the world’s oldest looking 18 year old, is making a Vegas pit stop on his way to college orientation when he stops to pick up Tammy, a frustrated magician’s assistant. Ten minutes later, he’s lost $25,000 at the roulette table (because he’s an idiot) and is desperately trying to pawn his watch across the street.

Naturally, Scott ends up at Gupta’s counter just as the leprechaun is putting on his final kill moves. Like a good midwest boy, Scott calls the police and picks up the missing gold coin, instantly wishing himself back at the casino for an impossible winning streak that makes dealer Caroline Williams (the lovable Slack from Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2) rather suspicious. Because leprechaun gold coins can apparently grant your wishes, Scott indeed DOES end up on an impossible winning streak while Tammy (if you still care) slaves in a leotard for a hilariously Gob-like magician named Fazio.

In terms of storyline, Leprechaun 3 feels surprisingly complicated, with Scott and Tammy’s pseudo-romance, the sleazy casino owner’s money troubles, Fazio and Caroline Williams’ heist, and the leprechaun’s rampage all crammed tightly in a brisk 90 minutes. Scott also has a mini-arc regarding a leprechaun bite that transforms him into a gingery potato eating rhymer. Sure.

Despite a cluttered storyline, the film is actually a pretty darn good time. Director Brian Trenchard-Smith (Turkey Shoot) maintains a nice spirit of lightheartedness in every frame, getting energetic performances out of every actor, from the wide-eyed leads to a random Elvis impersonator who yes, teaches a move or two to the leprechaun. Why would he not?

High Points

I love a movie that has fun with its kills, and between the plastic surgery blow-up and robot sex electrocution that seems weirdly foreshadowing that creepy Russian vodka mascot, Leprechaun 3 isn’t lacking

There’s a nice, not too forced comic vibe to some of the supporting characters, particularly with Fazio and the entertaining Williams, but also with a pair of chatty mob goons and some bored surgeons

Low Points

I have an odd pet peeve with unambitious opening credits, which just feel like a time waster rather than mood setter. Leprechaun 3 opens with a black screen and vaguely Irish music playing as we learn about the supporting cast and composers. Just start the leprechauning already

Lessons Learned

A Fazio is a mediocre magician who couldn’t pull a rabbit out of a pet store

Without his gold, a leprechaun is just a gnome

In Las Vegas, it’s perfectly normal for brass statues of mythical creatures to disappear and be replaced by pots of gold coins. No need to jump or look around for a candid camera

The definition of a Las Vegas penis: heat sinking moisture missile

As a rule, people usually can’t tell you where they’ve hidden your gold when they are dead

A check for $25,000 should cover your first year of college tuition and living expenses

Not to be obvious, but by this point, you've probably had more than your share of Irish Car Bombs, so I'll spell it out for you: be careful what you wish for

Seriously

Rent/Bury/Buy

Look, we all know that the Leprechaun series sort of epitomizes the general consensus that the ‘90s were a nadir in horror franchises, so calling this third installment the best won’t mean a whole lot. Still, Leprechaun 3 is a surprisingly enjoyable little monster flick,  one well aware of its audience and eager to give them the laughs, kills, and occasional nudity (sorry ladies, not of the leprechaun) they expect. It won’t change your life or give you anything close to a nightmare, but for 90 minutes (particularly if found on a bargain triple pack) it will make your Irish eyes smile.

2011's Honorary Golden Lifts Go To....

I have no idea what director/writer/producer Mark Jones looks like. Google image searching him (it’s a verb and I’m dealing with it) yields everything from this:

to this:

and all the way to this:

More importantly, I have absolutely no clue how tall this man may be, but based on his filmography, I have to assume he’s either under five feet or, more likely, the sole full heighter in a family of dwarfs (yes, i.e., Matthew McConaughy in Tiptoes). Because of this man, we have the following:

The Lucky Charms hating, pogo stick wielding, 4-leaf clover allergic Leprechaun

The puntastic baby eater that is Rumplestiltskin

Dummy, the wooden and weird youngest child of one messed up family of orphans in Triloquist

also, Two For the Brig, an episode of the animated series ALF

Clearly, this is a man who understands the power of Vertically Challenged Villains!, and hence, 2011’s Doll’s House Shortie of the Year Golden Lifts go to his mysterious feet. May the Leprechaun clean them with that signature smile.