After watching Curtis Hanson's thrilling Eminem-inspired 8 Mile over a year-and-a-half ago, I was eager to explore other biopics based on the rise of popular hip-hop artists. I tried on the 50 Cent vehicle Get Rich or Die Tryin' for an evening, but Jim Sheridan's Lifetime Original Movie-style direction only left me with the unsettling sensation of having been completely ripped off. It was very unpleasant, to say the least. Those who've seen it know exactly what I'm talking about.

Not one to be sidelined by lackluster efforts by uninspired artists, I slowly became obsessed with the genre, renting everything from Krush Groove to Too Legit: The MC Hammer Story. Everyone around me was gravely concerned about my mental stability, not to mention my personal hygiene. It wasn't until my wife caught me watching the 1997 cult classic I'm Bout It in nothing but my skives that I discovered I'd spent way too much time in the world of low-budget ghetto cinema. Believe me when I say it cut like a knife, if I may be so bold as to quote the immortal Bryan Adams.

Old habits, I'm afraid, die hard.

The clerk at my favorite local video store informed me yesterday of a certain underground motion picture that tells the impossibly creepy story of Postmaster P and his ill-fated posse. Nobody really talks about this dark period in hip-hop history, that is, until maverick filmmaker Rob Spera (Witchcraft) and the good God-fearing folks at Trimark decided it was time to share this tale with the entire world. They broke the silence nobody wanted broken. How mind-numbingly courageous.

Leprechaun in the Hood, as it's known amongst cinephiles and obscure movie collectors, is truly an inspiring work of art. Despite having their worlds turned upside down by a sadistic former pimp and a deformed leprechaun with a penchant for dirty limericks, Postmaster P and his crew managed to get their voices heard in an industry that is known for squashing the weak and rewarding the strong. Though their unscrupulous tactics may have had a hand in their respective hardships, you have to admire their spirit, their drive, and their dedication to game.

The trouble begins when the trio decides to jack some shiny jewels from a local kingpin named Mack Daddy, portrayed with loving grace by none other than world-renowned thespian Ice-T. Their heist gets a bit hairy when one of the would-be thieves removes a shiny necklace from a seemingly harmless leprechaun statue. Big mistake. Much to their dismay, the evil leprechaun suddenly comes to life, forcing these rising stars to seek the help of a burly drag queen, a tubby preacher, and anyone else who is willing to lend a hand. Will these aspiring hip-hop gangstas make it to the big leagues, or will they suffer the consequences of their selfish actions?

Easily the most compelling aspect of Leprechaun in the Hood is its attention to detail. The mystical magic flute, which can be seen on every Postmaster P album to date, has been painstakingly reconstructed exclusively for this production. Seeing the instrument in action is simply marvelous, leaving one to ponder how these highly-trained Hollywood effects teams achieved such a stunning illusion. Trust me when I say it's probably the only thing you'll remember about the movie once it's had its naughty little way with you, cinematically speaking.