Okay, fellow tape travellers, dim the lights, maybe adjust the tracking just a smidge, and let's talk about a film that defies explanation, logic, and possibly the laws of nature itself. I'm talking about the one, the only, the legendarily baffling Troll 2 (1990). Forget finding this tucked away in the 'Horror' section – stumbling upon this VHS back in the day felt more like discovering a transmission from another dimension, possibly one where green food colouring is considered a primary food group.

It wasn't just another rental; it was an experience. You'd pop it in, maybe late on a Saturday night, expecting... well, maybe trolls? Instead, you got something far stranger, a film operating on its own dream logic, delivered with a sincerity that makes it utterly captivating in its incompetence. This isn't just a movie; it's a glorious, unintentional monument to cinematic weirdness.
The setup is simple, yet instantly peculiar. Young Joshua Waits (Michael Stephenson) is warned by the ghost of his Grandpa Seth (Robert Ormsby) about evil goblins who disguise themselves as friendly country folk to trick humans into eating tainted food, turning them into... wait for it... plants, so the goblins can then eat them. Because, you see, these are vegetarian goblins. The family, led by the perpetually bewildered patriarch Michael (George Hardy), dismisses Joshua's fears and proceeds with a house-swap vacation to the quaint, remote town of Nilbog. Anyone else spot the subtle clue there?

Right from the jump, you know you're in for something special. The dialogue feels like it was translated from Italian (because much of it reportedly was, poorly), leading to lines delivered with a bizarre cadence and featuring phrasing that no native English speaker would ever construct. George Hardy, a dentist in real life who auditioned on a whim, delivers his lines with a kind of wide-eyed sincerity that becomes instantly iconic. His performance is one for the ages – not "good" in the traditional sense, but unforgettable.
Let's talk about the "horror." Troll 2 achieves a level of surreal dread not through scares, but through sheer, unadulterated strangeness. The goblins themselves, when finally revealed, are less terrifying monsters and more like small actors shuffling around in burlap sacks and rubbery, static masks that look sourced from a discount Halloween store after Halloween. The practical effects are... well, they're present. Remember the transformation scene involving popcorn? Or the infamous sequence involving a double-decker bologna sandwich? It’s less horrifying, more bafflingly hypnotic.


And the food! Oh, the food. Green slime masquerading as ice cream, milk that looks suspiciously like yogurt left out in the sun, corn on the cob oozing green goo... it’s a masterclass in unappetizing presentation. This ties into the film's core absurdity: vegetarian monsters who turn people into vegetables. Retro Fun Fact: The film's writer, Rossella Drudi, has claimed the story was partly inspired by her frustration with several friends becoming vegetarians!
Understanding Troll 2 requires peering behind the curtain. Directed by Italian schlockmeister Claudio Fragasso (credited as Drake Floyd) and written by Drudi, the film was shot in Morgan and Porterville, Utah, using a largely local, inexperienced cast alongside a few struggling actors. Another Retro Fun Fact: Fragasso and most of the Italian crew spoke very little English, communicating primarily through translators, which undoubtedly contributed to the stilted dialogue and bewildered performances. The cast often had no idea what they were saying or why.
And the title? Pure video store bait-and-switch. Troll 2 has absolutely zero connection to the original Troll (1986), which featured Sonny Bono and Julia Louis-Dreyfus. It was slapped on by distributors hoping to cash in on the name recognition. The film's original title was reportedly Goblins. Can you imagine the sheer disappointment (or perhaps bewildered delight) of renters expecting a sequel and getting... this?
No discussion of Troll 2 is complete without mentioning that scene. Deputy Arnold’s (Darren Ewing) slow-burn reaction to witnessing his friend dissolve into green goo is perhaps the most legendary moment in "so bad it's good" cinema history. It’s a symphony of over-acting, bizarre editing, and pure, unadulterated panic delivered with baffling intensity. It perfectly encapsulates the film's appeal: moments of such profound cinematic failure that they loop back around to become mesmerizingly entertaining.
The film is packed with these moments, from the Stonehenge-esque magic rock to the bizarre seduction attempt involving corn on the cob, and the unforgettable performance of Connie McFarland (credited as Connie Young) as the goblin queen Creedence Leonore Gielgud, whose hypnotic monologue about the virtues of vegetarianism is peak Troll 2.
So, how do you rate a film like Troll 2? By conventional standards – acting, writing, direction, effects – it's an unmitigated disaster. But judged by its sheer entertainment value, its unintentional comedic genius, and its enduring cult legacy (spawning the excellent documentary Best Worst Movie directed by its own child star, Michael Stephenson), it's a triumph of outsider art. It wasn't a box office hit, obviously, and critics at the time (those who even noticed it) were merciless. But time, and a passionate fanbase raised on worn-out VHS tapes, has been incredibly kind. It’s a film you watch with people, to share the disbelief and the laughter.

This rating needs context: it's a terrible film by any normal measure (hence the 3). But as a piece of baffling, hilarious, endlessly quotable cult cinema discovered on a fuzzy VHS tape? It's perfect (hence the 10). It’s a testament to the magic of finding something so uniquely wrong it becomes transcendently right.
Final Thought: Troll 2 isn't just a bad movie; it's a precious, goblin-green artifact from a time when sheer, unvarnished weirdness could sneak onto video store shelves, waiting to ambush unsuspecting viewers with its glorious ineptitude. Nilbog is Goblin spelled backwards, and watching this movie might just rewire your brain backwards, too – in the best possible way.