By the time Rumpelstiltskin was in the works, the slasher model of yesteryear was replaced with something fresh but still familiar enough. Hence the many oddball slashers where the antagonist is neither human nor ordinary. From djinns to scarecrows, the decade saw horror turning to more fantastical inspirations. Mark Jones, whose career began in writing for cartoons and television, essentially kicked off the trend with Leprechaun. And had his first movie not been so successful, his next would have likely never happened.
After striking gold with Leprechaun in the early 1990s, Mark Jones looked to another magical icon for his second horror movie. Two specific on-screen depictions of Rumpelstiltskin influenced Jones’ own unique reimagining; he drew from Shaike Ophir and Billy Barty’s performances, respectively from the vintage anthology show Shirley Temple’s Storybook and an ‘87 movie directed by David Irving. Jones remembered Ophir’s take on the Brothers Grimm character to be particularly creepy. Now, the intentions of leprechauns — depending on the source — range from a little bit mischievous to outright evil, whereas Rumpelstiltskin is well known for stalking a mother and her baby. So if any classic fairy-tale figure was on the fast track to becoming a horror villain, it was that infamous imp with a talent for turning straw into gold.
With both Dino De Laurentiis and Aaron Spelling on Jones’ side, Rumpelstiltskin had the makings of another hit. De Laurentiis funded the production — with three times the budget of Leprechaun — and Spelling’s division at Paramount, Spelling Entertainment, intended to put Rumpy’s ugly mug on over 1,200 screens. Spelling Entertainment was, unfortunately, closed before the release, and the rollout was reduced to the point where hardly anyone saw the flick in theaters. Thankfully, underperforming movies like Rumpelstiltskin could depend on the home-video market back then for not only recouping losses, but also finding an audience.
Pictured: While holding Rumpelstiltskin’s current form, a jade figurine, Shelly approaches her husband’s photo over the fireplace and makes a teary-eyed wish.
With taglines like “When the fairy tale ends, the nightmare begins” and “It’s a scream come true,” Rumpelstiltskin is enticing to anyone who enjoys these kinds of dark reimaginings of storytime staples. The actual product, however, is more in tune with Jones’ first movie than the feast of severe fairy-tale adaptations from more recent years. Rumpelstiltskin largely runs on humor once the process to bring the monster into the modern age is sorted out. After establishing Rumpelstiltskin (superbly played by Max Grodénchik) was turned into a jade figurine, as punishment for his child-endangerment crimes in some vague part of Europe circa 1400s, he is freed and set loose on present-day Los Angeles. Both maternal terror and sheer hilarity ensue as Rumpy then searches for his next pint-sized target.
The unlucky recipient of Rumpelstiltskin’s latest baby-soul fixation is Kim Johnston Ulrich’s character, Shelly Stewart (née Miller, as in a miller’s daughter). Following the jarring time-jump from the Middle Ages to contemporary L.A. — the movie switches from Charles Bernstein’s eerie score to a Kool Moe Dee rap track — Shelly’s husband, a cop named Russell (Jay Pickett), is shot and killed in the line of duty. In a scene that foreshadows Shelley’s supernatural peril, the late officer went down while protecting a baby from a dangerous stranger. Ulrich’s now widowed character, who was pregnant at the time of her husband’s death, later becomes entranced by a certain jade talisman in an antiques shop. As if the powers that be willed this moment to happen so perfectly, Shelly does everything required to break the curse on Rumpelstiltskin; she exposes her baby to the object in question, and, most importantly, makes a teary-eyed wish without realizing the consequences.
Up until Rumpelstiltskin’s return, this movie appears serious. Melodramatic, but serious. Allyce Beasley’s character, Shelly’s tragically single best friend Hildy, keeps things somewhat light after Russell’s death. In due time, though, Hildy passes the torch of comic relief to Rumpelstiltskin. All it takes is a swift kick to the villain’s groin, a broomstick down the windpipe, and a few quips to fully realize the type of movie in store. While silliness was on brand for multiple horror offerings made during this time period, Rumpelstiltskin lets the cheese flow like a fondue fountain.
Pictured: Rumpelstiltskin enters a graveyard at night to finish his soul-stealing ritual.
Shelly’s wish for her late husband to meet his son, of course, comes at a high cost. Audiences should know the drill by now. This is where the movie creates the necessary MacGuffin for keeping an otherwise threadbare story moving. Rumpelstiltskin acts like a heat-seeking missile for baby John, and he chases both mother and son across parts of Acton, California. Observant viewers will recognize the desert highway setting as a shooting location in Steven Spielberg’s Duel. Instead of a malevolent oil tanker hot on Dennis Weaver’s tail, though, Jones’ cast is subjected to a wise-ass demon behind the wheel. One who, somehow, knows how to drive motor vehicles. The movie goes with the flow, and so must the viewers.
Rumpelstiltskin acknowledging its own villain is from a widely recognized fairy tale creates a small issue for anyone who cares about story logic: Shelly very well knows how to ward off her attacker. The main character even brings up the what’s-my-name business before the movie conveniently forgets and flies into several lengthy chase sequences. Jones seems aware, though, because this potential plot cure-all is slightly altered once put in use. As it turns out, saying Rumpelstiltskin’s name once is simply not enough to defeat him. There are also these other adjustments to the original fairy tale that keep the movie less calculable. These changes include having real-life comic Tommy Blaze play Shelly’s brave (but obnoxious) knight-in-not-so-shining-armor, and making Rumpelstiltskin vulnerable to straw and chaff.
Rumpelstiltskin hails from a rather slandered era of horror: the 1990s. In what many critics deem a substantial lull (or low point) for horror cinema, the bulk of the pre-Scream output is especially scrutinized. The direct-to-video entries are dismissed — Rumpelstiltskin did, in fact, have a limited theatrical release, but most folks first saw it on home video — and their proliferation is often used as glaring evidence of the period’s decline in quality. Another bone of contention is the increased presence of deliberate comedy in ’90s horror. This movie squarely lands on the goofier side of the trend, however, its sense of humor neither comes off as smug nor self-biting. And despite his craving for whimsy, Jones still showed regard for the horror genre. With the help of cinematographer Douglas Milsome, Jones delivered considerable shots and scenes not always available in low-budget fare such as this. Parts of the third act admirably channel Universal’s classic horror movies and monsters.
Rumpelstiltskin‘s nutty execution makes it, at the very least, memorable. (How can anyone forget that “fucketh me” set-piece?) Max Grodénchik’s all-in, physically demanding performance also does not get enough kudos as horror enthusiasts reappraise the genre’s recent history. Those curious to revisit this movie but are deterred by its expensive resale prices are in luck; Rumpelstiltskin has since been remastered and restored to its original widescreen glory. So, now is as good a time as any to revisit this screwy fairy-tale adaptation.
Pictured: Max Grodénchik as Rumpelstiltskin.
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