Starring Kim Johnston Ulrich, Tommy Blaze and Max Grodénchik
Directed by Mark Jones
Written by Mark Jones and Joe Ruby
Republic Pictures
“Fucketh me…”
That’s what the titular demon utters in the work art that is RUMPELSTILTSKIN, just before driving a tanker truck off a cliff. I want to be clear that I was sold on the movie well before this scene happened. Afterwards, though, I began hurriedly filling out the application for it to be placed in the Library of Congress.
I’m going to say something that will likely get me some hate. I saw Leprechaun late in life and had pretty lofty expectations based on all of the fan love for it. I had imagined a gore-filled riff on the magical creature, full of idiotic “fish-out-of-water” comedy. Frankly, it didn’t deliver on the stupidity I needed. Well, my qualms traveled back in time to Leprechaun director Mark Jones, who made sure that his RUMPELSTILTSKIN answered my prayers. Released in 1995, RUMPELSTILTSKIN flopped at the box office. Humanity has never stopped disappointing me.
Kim Johnston Ulrich of the wacked-out late ’90s NBC soap Passions stars as grieving widow Shelly Stewart, who wants just one more night with her slain police officer husband. His untimely death (lots of blood squibs) left her alone to raise their infant son, Johnny. After picking up a strange stone at a curio shop, she verbalizes that wish – and gets much more than she bargained for. It turns out the stone is the imprisoned form of the demon Rumpelstiltskin, played by Max Grodénchik, best known as the Ferengi Rom from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, who absolutely kills in this role. Rumpelstiltskin was cursed by villagers in the 15th century for, well, doing what he does in the fairy tale. Now he’s back in the ’90s and ready to do it again! You see, in exchange for Shelly getting laid, she has to give baby Johnny’s soul to this razor-toothed ghoul who looks like he’d belong in a Dio music video. Of course, she isn’t willing to do this, creating a significant conflict of interest.
RUMPELSTILTSKIN is neither a cerebral meditation on motherhood nor an examination of the impact of fairy tales on modern society. However, our boy wears sunglasses and rides a motorcycle, and there’s one scene where he’s repelled by a front-loading tractor full of flaming straw. (My guy hates chaff.) The movie moves at a clip, and everyone in the cast is game for the antics, including baby Johnny, who, rest assured, never stops crying. This film should be studied by everyone interested in the refined art of schlock.
The issue I have with the twisted fairy tale subgenre is that it often leans into either deadly seriousness or goes full camp, wimping out on the violence. Depending on the source material, there is a place for modernizing fairy tales into gothic art (see Oz Perkins’ ambient synthwave Gretel and Hansel), but often the anachronistic nature of folklore as handled by contemporary filmmakers leads to cranking the stupid knob until it snaps. Thankfully, Terror Vision Records & Video has released this delightful little abomination on 4K, Blu-ray and VHS. Whichever medium you choose, one thing is certain: You’ll be de-fucketh-lighted.
Death to False Horror,
Dr. Benny Graves
