It Came From Glocca Morra!

Although rooted in Irish folklore, the leprechaun is usually associated with sentimental or stereotypical visions of the country. Ruth Barton charts its representation on celluloid from mischievous miser to schlock slasher.

As a national symbol, the leprechaun is a dubious asset. Old, hideous, male and bestowed with an array of magic powers that he is likely to use against humanity, he might seem more like a Victorian caricature of the shifty peasant than a homegrown product. In fact, this creature, usually some kind of bad fairy, is common to a number of Celtic cultures. W. B. Yeats's description of the same, dating from 1890, pretty much holds good for today:

The best known among the solitary fairies is the Leprachaun. He is something of a dandy, and dresses in a red coat with seven rows of buttons, seven buttons on each row, and wears a cocked-hat, upon which pointed end he is wont in the north-eastern counties ... to spin like a top when the fit seizes him. His most common pursuit, as everyone knows, is cobbling. The fairies are always wearing out their shoes and setting him to mend them. At night he sometimes rides shepherds' dogs through the country, leaving them muddy and panting at the dawn. He is constantly described as peevish and ill-natured. His mischief, for all that, is much less gruesome than that of the Far Darrig or Red Man, the most unpleasant joker of all the race.

If this diminutive representative of Irish masculinity seems happiest hanging off pegs in tatty souvenir shops, he has enjoyed a comeback of a rather different order in a slew of recent films, the most consistently produced and certainly the most bizarre of which are the low-budget American horror cycle starting in 1993 with Leprechaun (dir: Mark Jones).

The full article is printed in Film Ireland 97