You can be forgiven if you forgot that World War III happened back in 1998 like Creepozoids depicts with all the conviction of a movie made for a few thousand dollars inside a single building with six people, including scream queen Linnea Quigley, guys who spend most of the film shrieking like women (Quigley must have been wondering if they were trying to steal her gimmick) and a sometimes porn star can muster. Continue reading
It’s easy to say that Spellbreaker: The Secret of the Leprechauns is like some kind of mediocre wish granted for having endured its puny predecessor, Leapin’ Leprechauns!
If you recall, that film followed an old man and his stowaway leprechaun and fairy friends as he visited his douche son and family in Denver. Douche dad was trying to scam old man into letting him build the Irelandland theme park on Fairy Hill. No one believed old man about the existence of the wee folk at first, but everyone came around eventually.
If you don’t recall any of that, don’t worry because Spellbreaker wastes its first two minutes having douche dad’s creepy son, Mikey, narrate it all, accompanied by flashbacks. This is easily the worst part of Spellbreaker. That’s not really a compliment toward Spellbreaker so much as a reminder of what a pile of pooka droppings Leapin’ Leprechauns! was. Continue reading
He heard stories that his immortal soul was bound to be hauled off by some evil cloud-monster-banshee thing to whatever hell the wee folk think up for non-believers (lots of soccer and Riverdance, but I’m just guessing), but he what did he care because these little turds weren’t real, right?
But then, like in all other major religions, these pesky pipsqueaks started giving him signs like causing food to get shoved in his face! And magic markers to fly around! And a vase full of water tipping over on his plans for the moronically named Irelandland! (I like to think King Kevin was just trying to save this dope from himself with that trick.) Continue reading