Leprechaun in the Hood
Evil's in the house.
Year of Release: 2000
Also Known As: Leprechaun 5
Genre: Horror/Comedy
Rated: R
Running Time: 90 minutes (1:30)
Director: Rob Spera
Cast:
Warwick Davis ... Leprechaun
Ice-T ... Mack Daddy
Anthony Montgomery ... Postmaster P.
Rashaan Nall ... Stray Bullet
Red Grant ... Butch
Dan Martin ... Jackie Dee
Lobo Sebastian ... Fontaine Rivera
Ivory Ocean ... Reverend Hanson
Jack Ong ... Chow Yung Pi
Summary:
After a long and golden dormancy, the Leprechaun is brought back to life by three bungling rap artists looking to launch their music careers.
When Butch, Postmaster P, and Stray Bullet loot the local hip-hop mogul's studio to fund their demo album, the threesome unwittingly ends up with the secret of Mack Daddy's success: a magical flute. Their gigs instantly turn golden but a blood-thirsty Leprechaun and an angry Mack Daddy are hot on their trail, leaving a wake of destruction tainted by politically incorrect limericks.
Review:
Leprechaun in the Hood, remindin' us that sometimes its the little things that keep us from livin' large.
And speakin' of gross shortcomings, you've prolly noticed all the old farts who spend five hours a day at the greasy spoon lunch counter complainin' about how nobody wants to work anymore, but if you ask me, I think the bigger issue facin' America today is that nobody knows how to have fun anymore.
I know a lot of ya've already heard about what happened to Abner Gorch Saturday night on account of the emergency meetin' the City Council held this mornin' callin' for Oscar Cobb to be publicly horsewhipped and forced to watch Riverdance until he pukes as repentance for heretical crimes committed against the Catholic Church, but I'd like to take a moment to set the record straight before we demonize the man and condemn 'im to an eternity of tendin' bar at the ole underground Inferno Club.
Normally I wouldn't get involved in public affairs like this, but I refuse to stand by and watch a man get crucified; 'specially when the Chickawalka Talka's offerin' $50 for eyewitness testimony regardin' the incident.
The whole thing really is just a big misunderstandin' anyway. What happened was, Oscar finally got a mind to get back at Abner for the 35 years of little ribs he's been pullin' - stuff like releasin' wild skunks in the men's room of Berenstain Beers durin' the night, hidin' the bar's liquor license minutes before the county inspector shows up for his annual inspection, buyin' up the entire stock in the condom machine and then scalpin' 'em for $10 a piece, and basically just bein' a first-class asshole. Unfortunately, life's a lot like football in some respects, 'cause it seems like the referees always catch the guy who retaliates and never the one who started it.
"Alright you guys it's almost 10 and Abner'll be in any minute. Let's go through it one more time," Oscar barked, 'causin' mosta the regulars to cover their ears and groan like wounded bison.
"For shit'n sakes Oscar, we get it - Abner gets bombed, the kid comes in, we pretend not to see 'im. They ain't revivin' Punk'd in your honor for this crap," Arvin Spickle growled, returning to his temporarily paused pretzel binge.
"You just know your role and don't screw it up. Matter of fact, any of you blows this and your two free beers're off the table and I call in your tabs," Oscar threatened, fully aware that doing so would functionally end the victim's participation in polite society.
Under ordinary circumstances I'd prefer to spend my money in a classier drinkin' establishment like Walleye's Topless Dancin' & Bait Shop, but I was really only there 'cause Roxanne Bigelow'd gotten the inside scoop on what was about to go down following a call she'd taken at work from an individual seeking legal representation on a disorderly conduct charge stemming from an incident involving a jar of peanut butter, a portable toilet, and a set of moon boots.
Thankfully, Abner'd gotten 'imself a head start on the day's cirrhosis contribution before he made it into the bar, and so we only hadda wait about thirty minutes before Oscar was able to put his plan into action.
"Toppa the mornin' tuh ye!" Irma Crankwright squealed, climbin' onto the bar - her face smeared with green camo makeup and her frame clad in a traditional leprechaun ensemble that woulda drawn a cease and desist order from the General Mills legal department.
"Well I'll be dipped in shit! Bit early for Saint Paddy's Day, idnit Oscar?" Abner chuckled, amused despite his initial shock.
"Doesn't stop you from drinkin' like it every day," Rick Dosch sniped from a few stools down.
"Cute kid, anyway. What's your name, little gal?" Abner asked, ignoring Rick's rude if accurate assessment of his social life datin' back to the late '80s.
"Didn't you institute a two-drink minimum on imaginary friends, Oscar?" I asked, givin' Abner a skeptical side-eye glance.
"Whaddya--" Abner started slurrin'.
"They con't sae me, sair, but me name's Patti. Patti O' Chair!" Irma giggled crazily.
"Patio-- what're you tryna pull here, Oscar? When Deputy Dahl comes in here for lunch and sees her you've had it, man," Abner declared, grabbin' his glass as Irma drew 'er leg back to punt it into his lap.
"Congratulations, Abner, on a new personal best," Oscar announced, inspecting his watch.
"I don't follow ya," Abner replied, cockin' his head sideways and watchin' Irma cartwheel down the length of the bar without drawin' so much as a look from the patrons sittin' at the counter.
"You're done. No more. And at 10:50 in the mornin'. I'd give ya the number for the A.A. office but I'm afraid dealin' with your bullshit'd get the counselors on the sauce," Oscar scowled in disgust, grabbin' Abner's glass and headin' for the kitchen.
"Thought he'd nevare laeve. Now, you and me have some business tuh discuss," Irma grinned sadistically, floppin' down onto Roxanne's lap on the adjoining stool.
"Hey! You can't just go sittin' on peep--" Abner began objecting.
"You talkin' to me?" Roxanne turned her head to face Abner, ignoring Irma's presence flawlessly.
"Yae've got somethin' o'mine, ya sae, and I've come tuh claim it," Irma continued.
"Huh?!" Abner whimpered, concern beginning to take hold.
"Aye. In yaer coat thar - a gold pocket watch. Belonged tuh me Dad, it did. Taken from him 144 yars ago tiday by yaer great, great, Granda. Now, be a good lad and hand it ovare and they'll be no trouble," Irma smirked, her little eyes darting back and forth wildly.
"How'd you know... hey! Don't I get a wish or--" Abner stalled, scanning the room for his quickest path to freedom.
"Aye - yae'll wish fer death before I'm through with ye, and yae'll get it soon enough!" Irma cackled, jumping back onto the bar as Abner bolted for the door.
Roxanne and I were the only two people who saw the entire exchange from start to finish 'cause the moment Irma went after 'im we gave chase to catch the second act (everyone else was either too hungover or indifferent to join us).
As you might guess, a chronically intoxicated sexagenarian is no match for an 11-year-old in a footrace, but from this point Irma's assignment wasn't to catch Abner but to herd him into the auditorium at Chickawalka Elementary where the 5th Grade class was preparin' for the dress rehearsal for their stage adaptation of Darby O'Gill and the Little People, and since Abner hadn't been more than a quarter-mile from Berenstain Beers since 1996 it'd be safe to assume he was unaware of the performance or the solid production design Oscar had financed in exchange for the teacher goin' along with his prank.
I won't go into the exact details of the final act 'cause even I think Abner got a bit of a raw deal, but the short version's that when Abner saw Brooke Washburn in her custom-made psychedelic space blanket Banshee costume swingin' around on a stage rope he experienced a brief loss of bowel control while frozen in place in the middle of the enchanted forest, and when he finally recovered his wits and tried to run he... may've slipped and hit his head on a log prop that knocked 'im unconscious for a time.
So, I mean, yeah - disproportionate response maybe, but it's not like Oscar personally put the guy's lights out. Far's I'm concerned, Father Flaherty's just bein' a big baby about the whole thing, and the trumped up sacrilege charge is nothin' but a small man puttin' his bully pulpit to use to score points with his boss, who I'll wager hates a suck-up just as much as the rest of us. I'll leave it up to you to decide for yourselves whether Oscar deserves to be railroaded for his little stunt, but just remember - when they come for the bartender and you say nothing, you might find yourself mighty thirsty when it's your butt bein' hauled to the gulag.
Beins we were already there Roxanne and I decided to stick around and watch the play, and I'm here to tell ya that Irma Crankwright may just muster the escape velocity necessary to get outta this town one day on the strength of her actin' talent, 'cause I really felt somethin' watchin' her performance as the king of the wee people. It mighta been that green beer Oscar brewed up the night before and I'm startin' to think it mighta been better if he hadn't been able to find the bar's liquor license that day Abner hid it in the heating duct, but either way, Irma nailed that Irish accent and does a pretty solid jig to boot.
After Irma, Brooke, and all the other little yard monsters took their bows I drove Roxanne home and stopped off at the Jiffy Mart for some heat lamp burritos to settle my digestive tract before startin' my annual Leprechaun-athon with Apollo and Shankles. Probably oughta stop sharin' those burritos with 'em given how after the third or fourth one Apollo always gets this look on his face like one of the springs on his bench seat just poked up through the upholstery and pricked his nards, but the guy needs to learn his limits and I may not always be here to guide 'im through life, ya know?
I'm not gonna get too deep in the weed pitchin' this one 'cause it's one of those flicks where the title tells ya everything ya need to know and delivers as advertised, but for the skeptics out there thinkin' about skippin' over it for bein' a D.E.I. sequel, I've picked out three valuable bits of straight talk as it concerns Irish 'Hood culture guaranteed to help you live longer, fuller lives, and they are as follows.
First, rip off a pimp and it'll be you who gets gangbanged. Second, Coolio's been spendin' most his life livin' in a gangsta's paradise, but sometimes he likes to get away and cameo in direct-to-video horror flicks for no apparent reason. And third, there's at least one snake Saint Patrick missed while drivin' 'em outta Ireland, and the bitches love it.
The movie begins in the 'Hood circa 1972 where a map and the words of the prophets lead Ice-T (Mack Daddy) and his homie, Splenda, to a chamber hidden behind the subway walls containing a stoned leprechaun and more gold than the checkpoint screening bin at McCarran Airport when Sammy Davis Jr. goes through the metal detector. There's no such thing as a free lunch though, and when Splenda starts grabbin' the ghetto booty he removes the protective medallion from around the statue's neck and accidentally emancipates the little green man who rams the guy's afro comb into his neck and swivels it till his jugular's wrapped around it like a linguine noodle at the Olive Garden. Mack tries to avenge his ride and died with an armory of weapons concealed in his 'fro, but Clover Grieveland disarms 'im and it's lookin' like the iceman's about to be reduced to a puddle until he's able to surprise the Biting Irish with a blast from a nearby steam valve and topple 'im onto a board that catapults the discarded medallion into the air where it spins around like a hand-tossed pizza crust before comin' back down to rest around his neck.
Next thing, it's thirty years later, and a young hip-hop group (Postmaster P., Stray Bullet, and Butch) are at a club auditionin' for a shot at a record contract until Butch starts screwin' with the wiring on their amp and the scene suddenly becomes lit in a manner they hadn't intended. Needless to say, this was not the kinda blaze they were hopin' to end the day with, so now they hafta go around all the neighborhood pawn shops tryna pass off a ten-year-old guitar with a sharpie scribble as havin' belonged to Jimi Hendrix and get disrespected by guys who only accept cash or dentition forged from precious metals until they're able to con Mack Daddy (who has since parlayed his ill-gotten gains into a studio empire) into givin' 'em an audition with his label. 'Course, after havin' set the world on fire back at their last audition all they have is a demo tape, but Mack agrees to rep 'em provided they're willin' to cut the Lionel Richie crap and pivot to somethin' he can market to teenagers who keep speakers the size of refrigerators in their backseats. Post is worried about what his Gramma'll say if she hears 'im on the radio singin' about hos, drive-bys, and the irresponsible consumption of 40s, and this apprehension eventually results in Mack gettin' fed up with their wack bitchassery and throwin' 'em out.
Stray is P.O.'d, so he formulates a plan to loot the Ice-Treasury while the upwardly mobile mogul's out partyin' and partakin' of the bitches, only he ends up comin' home in the middle of the job and Post accidentally shoots 'im when the explosives Butch's rigged to the leprechaun's display case detonate. They're able to get away with mosta the leprecache and a little flute that looks like the one Link uses to reveal hidden dungeons in The Legend of Zelda, but when they snatch the medallion from the neck of the statue, Darby O'Kill softens and they hafta bust numerous caps in his ass to clear a path and escape in their discreet '75 Buick Regal getaway heap. That ain't gonna get it though, 'cause it turns out Post's bullet ricocheted off a piece of personal protective bling, and needless to say Mack's royally hacked and don't care who he gotta whack to get his jack back, so he starts assemblin' his crew until Saint Splatrick finds 'im, takes a hit off Mack's joint, rips his finger off, and tells 'im he'd best be bringin' 'im his gold and more of this Acapulco stuff or else Mack's blarney stones'll be the next thing he loses.
The next day, the boys head back to the pawn shop to swap their molten hot gold for some new musical equipment, but while Stray's dickerin' with the shopkeeper Post pulls out the flute he stole offa Mack and starts playin' it until everyone gets this look on their face like they just finished smokin' a pound of Arkansas Polio Weed and need to find someplace to hibernate for the winter. Then Yucky Charms goes to get his stuff outta hock and ends up havin' to send the shopkeeper's zombie wife to collect his property after the guy questions his street cred, and while that's goin' on Mack Daddy shows up at the guys' house party and they end up havin' to dumpster dive from the roof of their apartment building when Mack tries to ghetto blast 'em but forgets he hasn't got a trigger finger no more. Regardless, Mack's got his ear to the ground and his eyes on the prize, so the guys decide to hide out with this lady-in-waiting with a face like George Foreman who's savin' up to get 'er nether regions overhauled (Fontaine), and they end up puttin' on an impromptu concert that draws the attention of the Gangrene Goblin who gets whisked away to Fontaine's bedroom where he leaves a scene so disgustin' that his Gay Panic Defense would fail even in Lubbock, Texas.
Once Die Low Low finishes riflin' Fontaine's drawers he starts rootin' through 'er cabinets for his flute until our guys realize they're about to go from 2 Live Crew to the 3 Dead variety if they don't get outta there, so Butch rigs up an electric blanket with explosive KY Jelly while Stray baits the little booger into the bathroom and they test the limits of the jelly's warming effect and fry his taters. They then seek sanctuary at church where they're wrangled into performin' gangsta rap for the congregation until their lyrical heresy durn near condemns everyone to the seventh circle of Hell and Post hasta use the flute before everyone abandons Jesus and runs screaming to the nearest mosque. Unfortunately, Mack and the Man of Green Fables converge on the church at the same time and Post manages to play 'em off each other until Mack's security detail gets his entrails derailed and Mack hasta fall back while the reverend helps the boys lock His Lowness in the church safe with the collection plate take.
Then the guys strike a new green deal with the reverend to keep WeeLo Green in lockdown in exchange for a portion of their contest winnins, only none of 'em knows about the Irish voodoo zombie background dancers in the leprechaun's employ, and while one of 'em distracts the reverend, the others post the little guy's bail and he opens up the reverend's heart to let Jesus in. Meanwhile, our guys are killin' it at the final audition and end up earnin' a spot in the competition that's set to take place in Vegas, only when they get back to their room the Lucky Shrike and his shamrock shakers show up and make Post hand over the flute and force Stray to blow his brains out in a sickening display of green on black violence. Post and Butch are powerfully bummed but they ain't licked yet, so Butch starts doin' some folkloric deep divin' until he formulates a plot to dress up like 42nd Street hookers and lace the Mean Green Brother's chronic stash with ground-up four-leaf clovers and send 'im back to the stoned age while they grab the flute. I don't wanna go too much farther'n this, but I would strongly advise you to stick with it to the end to gaze in amusement as the leprechaun gets sweet on Post and discovers his hitherto unknown Grace Jones fetish.
Alrighty, well, I realize that might seem like an odd place to stop, but just in case you were wonderin' whether the movie starts gettin' weird at any point, there's also a fine sequence where Warwick Davis raps us out to the closing credits (and he's surprisingly good if you can get past the fact that it's happening), so you may wanna temper your expectations if you were expectin' the flick to stay the course in its bid for serious Oscar contention.
There's no real question about the series having gone off the rails, though the fact that there's debate as to exactly when that happened should be enough to tell you that no matter how silly the sequels become there will be those who can't get enough of the leprechaun's antics, and I take issue with anyone who thinks *this* is the moment where things went sideways. I would suspect that, were Steve Harvey to survey 100 maniacs who've seen every entry in the series and ask when the bottom fell out, "In Space" would be the number one answer on the board by a good margin - though I am personally of the opinion, as a connoisseur of Irish folk horror, that Part 3 was the beginning of the end. Not because Part 3 is a terrible film (it's actually got the highest rating of the series on the IMDB if using the total number of ratings as a tiebreaker with Leprechaun Returns), but because that's when the comedy-to-horror ratio exceeded my personal standards of good taste.
One thing I'll give the writers (and somebody oughta give 'em somethin' since nobody's been willing to give 'em many more writing opportunities following the film's release) - they seem to have taken the time to watch the first three movies, as they offer callbacks to each with the four-leaf clover Achilles heel from the first flick, the wrought iron safe serving as a plausible method of capture as in Part 2, and setting the final round of the rap competition in Vegas, where the third film is set. Some might argue that those are simply examples of plagiarism or laziness, but I'd call it subtle fan service for those of us in the audience who take our leprechaun films (and the critiquing thereof) seriously, and it's kinda refreshing to bring two of the previously established methods of leprechaun destruction together given that all the previous writers changed the rules on us for each outing.
It is not my intention to continue with a lengthy "In Defense of Leprechaun 5" screed touting it as some misunderstood work of genius by a band of eccentric artists, but if we're willin' to give passes to the times when the little creep inflated Caroline Williams' hooters up to comical size and blew 'em up, or emerged from a man's crotch mid-aardvarkus, is the death by KY Jelly conflagration sequence really a bridge too far? Some of you guys may wanna reexamine where and why you draw those lines in the sand, 'cause it ain't often you're gonna get to witness a death by afro comb sequence. That's all I'm sayin'.
Anyway, while you people're gettin' right with the Lep (I'm not gonna name names, but you know who you are), the rest of us're gonna take a minute to examine the highs and lows of this excursion into the 'Hood, so when you're ready, grab your roach clip and come join us in the circle.
The plot (as is customary in every entry prior to Leprechaun Returns) contains no canonical connection to any other flick in the series, but does include the aforementioned callbacks and some of the established conventions from Part 3; specifically, the medallion that can turn the leprechaun to stone. It's never really clear if we're dealing with the same leprechaun or whether they're different in each sequel, and although it is a minor point, I've always been appreciative of the Friday the 13th formula where we find Jason right where we left 'im and get to observe his return to action, and I do consider it a small misgiving when considering the sequels' plot scores.
All the same, absurd as the story may be, it unfolds in an enjoyable stream-of-consciousness style where the players are besieged from all sides by rival entities who pursue them mercilessly, and the result is, if nothing else, a well-paced flick that rarely drags. It must be said that the intervening rap sets come across as padding that make the flick feel like a vehicle to gain notoriety (such as you can from a film of this caliber) for someone's musical career. One might also point out that having an outdoor concert while being pursued by entities that want you dead may not be the best way to ensure your survival, and I suppose if you wanna get real nitpicky you could bring into question the availability of clover patches in the middle of Compton, but it's never predictable or dull, and although it does lean way too far into the comedic for my liking, it does know when to pull back on the reins and reintroduce a little horror (and slow down long enough to deal with the aftermath of it).
The acting is the most consistent the series has seen since Part 2, with Rashaan Nall standing out as the fed-up Stray Bullet toeing the line between doing what's right for the sake of his straight-edge friends while simultaneously holding a certain degree of admiration for the cold-blooded Mack Daddy (he's also got a very intense and authentic stage presence during the rap performances and is credited, along with Montgomery, as having sung many of the songs). Red Grant is the most relatable and likable character as the "high int, low wis" Butch, whose plans often succeed but introduce some terrible unforeseen variable into the equation that always makes the already ridiculous situation worse.
The supporting cast is also solid, with good performances coming from Ivory Ocean as the corrupt reverend (who drops the phenomenal line "Look, you stop all that goddamn yellin' - this is the Lord's house!"), Jack Ong as the uptight pawn shop owner who wants to be in the group's music video when they make it big ("Chow get down with his baaaaaaad self"), and Lobo Sebastian as the sassy ("Ain't no scrubs up in here") barbarian in a lace bodice; though it's ultimately the two headliners that keep you from shuttin' the VCR off, with both Davis and Ice-T seeming to enjoy themselves despite the crazy goings-on and the knowledge that the movie isn't likely to improve their career prospects (though you mighta heard, they both did alright going forward). The only shaky performance is that of Anthony Montgomery in his first prominent movie role, and although he would come into his own as the under-utilized (if likable) Travis Mayweather on Star Trek: Enterprise, he comes across as a bit green and frequently uncomfortable - particularly during the climax while performing in drag. Still, on the whole - far fewer weak links than in Parts 3 and 4, even if those entries did have superior supporting performances.
Here's who matters and why (less Ice-T, Warwick Davis, and Coolio, who shows up for about six seconds for no apparent reason): Rashaan Nall (Devil's Prey), Dan Martin (Itsy Bitsy, Nightmare Cinema, Groom Lake, Crocodile 2, Earth vs. the Spider 2001, Alien Avengers, Sleepwalkers), Lobo Sebastian (Ghosts of Mars), Ivory Ocean Not of This World 1991), Jack Ong (Devil in the Flesh 2, Godzilla 2000, Mac and Me), Bebe Drake (Body Bags, Alien Nation), Daya Vaidya (April Fools), Eric Mansker (Predator 2, Timestalkers, Star Trek III, Prophecy), Steven M. Porter (Teardrop, The Poughkeepsie Tapes), Diana Terranova (Minutes to Midnight, Snake Outta Compton, Two Faced, Sharknado 3 & 4, Lizard Man, Piranhaconda, Camel Spiders, 8213: Gacy House, Necessary Evil, Sands of Oblivion, War of the Worlds 2, Out for Blood).
And the folks who hit the medium time: Anthony Montgomery (Andre Maddox on General Hospital, Ensign Travis Mayweather on Enterprise), Dan Martin (Bradley Baker on The Bold and the Beautiful, Lou Adams on Rin Tin Tin: K9 Cop), Lobo Sebastian (Lil Joker in Next Friday), Daya Vaidya (Jen Kowski on Bosch, Nina Inara on Unforgettable), Steven M. Porter (Frank Moth on Heart of Dixie), Chrystee Pharris (Simone Russell on Passions).
The special effects are decent given the budgetary restrictions inherent in direct-to-video features, and this is due in no small part to the return of series regular and original Leprechaun makeup man Gabe Bartalos, whose additional works include Spookies, Brain Damage, Basket Case 2, Frankenhooker, the Unborn II, Watchers III, and Sometimes They Come Back. Gabe and Company's contributions to the Leprechaun's fifth outing include an excellent death by afro comb sequence, solid bullet riddling and blood squibbing, cheesy post-production green lightning, one gooey zombie ex-wife lacking in decay, a pretty pitiful severed finger that appears sausage adjacent, a comically huge and disgusting bullet exit wound, a nice fire suit sequence, two unnatural severed leprechaun limbs that break off uniformly and stiffly as single pieces, a claw through the unnaturally latexy gutbucket of the reverend, a passable eyeball on a fork, and the always spectacular leprechaun makeup that, in its fifth iteration, always comes across well even as the budgets get smaller for each passing film. Gabe recently lost his home in the wave of wildfires that swept through Los Angeles and has a Gofundme set up as he and his family work to get back on their feet, so if you can help him out, please consider doing so and be sure to let him know what his work has meant you.
The shooting locations, sets, and production design, in general, are poor, and amount to the cinematic equivalent of missing an easy layup. There are a few instances where decaying exteriors project the feeling of poverty and hopelessness the characters are striving to escape, but most of the flick looks to have been shot on interior sets (along with the occasional home) that've been hastily constructed and shot tightly to mask the fact. The pawn shops are sparsely decorated and feel repurposed, the inner-city alleyway the guys drop into to escape Ice-T is tidier than you're likely to see in a suburb dotted with McMansions, and the clubs and audition spots fail to convince the viewer of their authenticity. I don't know if the crew were simply unable to secure the locations necessary to bolster the flick's credibility or whether a conscious decision was made (potentially for budgetary purposes, as filming in L.A. is notoriously expensive) to present the locations this way, but the movie literally lacks street cred and creates an extremely rare instance where a flick's shooting locations are its weakest element.
The soundtrack consists primarily of adequate if unincredible rap and hip hop tunes - six of which are credited as having been performed by co-leads Anthony Montgomery and Rashaan Nall, who do an admirable job given that they were hired primarily as actors. Ice-T contributes one track as well, with the remaining songs featuring The Boom Brothers, Slomo, Boney Bones, Panzy, KB, Big G, Iree, Tara Bryant, and... Warwick Davis performing his rendition of "Lep in the Hood," which is simultaneously impressive and unbelievably cringey. Because the bulk of the soundtrack is made up of studio-produced lyrical tracks there isn't much call for instrumental scoring, but Nicholas Rivera's opening credits score combining string instruments that typically accompany Irish folk music and hip-hop style beats and snare drum is a masterful combination of two styles that have no business coming together to produce something so catchy and atmospherically perfect. That track is easily the best piece of music produced for the series since Part 2 and does a nice job of getting the movie off on the right foot in the face of another unexpected (if decidedly more grounded) premise.
Overall, Leprechaun in the Hood improves on the crater left behind by Leprechaun 4, but like it, relies too strongly on comedy for my liking. If any stock is to be placed in IMDB ratings (and that may well not be the case), the consensus does seem to be that the more "serious" entries (with the exception of 3, which rates highest of all) are usually considered to be the best. But for those who prefer the off-the-wall approach taken by the back half of the series, you can absolutely do worse than this fifth installment, and there's still good entertainment value to be found despite the middling special effects and bargain basement sets. Fans of the series who threw up their hands after Part 4 would do well to give this entry a chance as the fun factor remains strong in the face of continued budget cuts, and, who knows - you might even go from throwing your hands up in frustration to throwin' 'em up so's to wave 'em around like you just don't care.
Rating: 56%