Everybody should go to Las Vegas at least once. Whether you like it or hate it (I liked it), whether you gamble or not (I didn’t), it’s one of the essential landmarks of the American scenery.
Even the killer Leprechaun loves Vegas and you know you can trust him.
Somebody’s always fucking with his gold coins and he can’t stand that. It puts him in a mood to gouge out eyes and cut people in half with a chainsaw. One of his coins ends up in a Vegas pawn shop, so the Leprechaun arrives to get it back only to find that somebody’s already made off with it. From there, he’s chasing it all over a sleazy casino and leaves behind a trail of slashed, hacked, and electrocuted bodies. The most memorable death is the vain girl whom the Leprechaun kills off by magically making her lips, breasts, and butt expand until she explodes like an over-inflated balloon.
The jokes flow furiously here and none of them are any good, but the film does have the good taste to feature a cute and curvy heroine (one-film wonder Lee Armstrong) who spends THE WHOLE MOVIE in a skimpy little showgirl outfit. She’s got the kind of cleavage and mile-long legs that make you feel better about watching a movie about a homicidal leprechaun. Sadly, she never peels it all off and goes skyclad, which is on my Top 50 reasons why I, personally, don’t like the 90s.