Sneaking a Pre-FRIENDS Jennifer Aniston into My Parents' House (A Blog)

I once read a 9,000-word essay about the "Leprechaun" series. How anyone could devote that much time and energy to these films is beyond my understanding of the human body. I certainly won't expend those same juices writing this piece. Of course, I'm not writing about the series as a whole anyway. I'm going to focus on the first film. There are several reasons why, one of which being it's the only entry that looks like it was financed by a major studio. It could actually be considered a "film."

My relationship with "Leprechaun" dates back to the film's release in 1993. I was doodling through 4^th grade, and my best friend at the time would always leave me bewildered with the stories he would tell of the bloody fright flicks he had seen. This was a big deal. My mother did not allow me to watch horror films, unless they were of the harmless variety. I was stuck with Godzilla flicks and several variations of your average mad scientist/giant monster mash. I'm not complaining (hey, I adore the Big G), but like every other little scamp, I wanted to be scared out of my Superman underwear.

One night, I saw the TV spot for "Leprechaun." I was rapt. I had to see this movie! A giant leprechaun? How cool! Yes, I thought that Lep would be at least 8-feet tall, but I wasn't the best at judging the properties of two-dimensional objects as of yet. The next day, my friend and I yacked about the sure-to-be genre classic. We would talk about it ad infinitum. Eventually, he rented it when the film hit video shelves (God, I miss VIDEO shelves). I figured that I wouldn't be able to take in "Leprechaun" for a few years, so I begged him to dish the details. Details he dished.

That settled it. I was going to watch "Leprechaun" come Hell or Hi-C! I told my dear sweet mom about a children's film called "Leprechaun" that I desperately wanted to see. She wasn't attuned to horror happenings, so hoodwinking her into renting "Leprechaun" would be a piece of German chocolate cake. I concocted my own storyline for this faux fairy tale. A little boy finds a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. A dainty leprechaun jumps out of nowhere and befriends our hero junior. The two pals go on a series of hilarious hijinks and misadventures.

Mom bought it as if I was pitching it on cable access television. A week later, she came home with a Video World bag. Finally! My patience had paid off. She actually picked up "Leprechaun" without reading the back of the box. It's a stupid miracle, really. I couldn't help it. I came clean partly because she was going to find out sooner or later and partly because I was proud of my scheming ways. She couldn't believe it. However, she let me watch the damn thing. I'm still not sure why she caved in. I didn't care at the time, though.

I enjoyed "Leprechaun." I watch it today with a skewed sense of appreciation. It was one of the first films to introduce me to R-rated horror. Say what you will about the sequels. I know I have. But you can't deny the appeal of a young Jennifer Aniston sprinting across a clover patch to escape the clutches of a devilish leprechaun with a rifle in hand. Sure, the film contains several "ugh" moments, but what b-movie doesn't? I'm fond of this straight-to-clearance franchise. Warwick Davis has done a fine job carrying on as the pint-sized fiend.

Lion's Gate has treated Davis like homemade fecal matter. Believe it or not, they have tried to replace him. A Leprechaun film without Willow himself is downright un-American. Childhood without monster movies is just as un-American. Mom always tried to keep me at a safe distance from the expansive horror section at Video World. She tried her best, God bless her. I sit here now surrounded by close to 900 horror films stored in my bedroom. Some things are meant to be.