A testimony.

This week, with Lynnette here to visit, I finally succeeded in inflicting my current favorite movie ever upon the last family holdout: we made Eve watch Troll 2. I’m pleased to say that she enjoyed it much more than she expected; she was still talking about the infamous and inexplicable popcorn scene the next day. Most of the other ZDs were able to experience this steaming pile of cinema at Christmas, after Lynnette helpfully gave it to me for my birthday, a decision which she has only had occasion to regret two or three times since. Ziff and his kids saw it shortly thereafter, while Lynnette was visiting them. (I believe my sister-in-law abstained, as did Eve’s husband. I can’t fathom their sad choice to remain in cinematical darkness, but I respect their agency.) One nephew apparently asked gleefully, “Is this supposed to be scary? I’ve seen comedies that were scarier than this!” while the other got on to his mom’s Netflix account to give it zero stars.

My roommates and boyfriend first encountered this sublime catastrophe last October, one evening while I was distracted with something trivial like work or grading. Twenty minutes in, the plot took such a ridiculous turn that they felt they couldn’t keep watching until I could watch with them; truly this was the most devout marker of friendship I’ve ever known. We watched it together on Halloween, and felt the spirit (perhaps of Ed Wood?) whisper to us that this was truly, astoundingly, the worst movie ever made. I’ve never doubted it since.

I’ve seen it five times now, always with at least one new viewer: friends, neighbors, and family members have all heard the message of Troll 2 through me. Some ZDs (Kiskilili — or maybe she just liked the Amazon reviews) seem to have appreciated it more than others (Lady Amalthea, who still puts her fingers in her ears whenever it comes up). A few friends were lukewarm in their reception, while others organized a Troll 2 party to induct others. But at least I have the satisfaction of knowing I’ve done my part. It turns out I’m a much better missionary of Troll 2 than I was a missionary of the gospel. I’m not sure what to make of that, but I do know that, from the stilted, unnatural script, to the trying-way-too-hard acting, to the plot that almost makes sense some of them time, to the electrified-aerobics-workout soundtrack, to the Walmart-clearance goblin masks, I love this movie with every fiber of my being.

I encourage all of our readers to gather their families, load up Troll 2 on Netflix streaming, and just let the shock and awe wash over you. Don’t forget the popcorn.


  1. I feel blessed to hear such a heartfelt testimony. If just one person is inspired by this post, how great will be your joy with them in the kingdom of Nilbog.

  2. I’m considering making another unrelated sequel: Troll 3, Bloggernacle Edition.

    I’m thinking, as with Troll 2, we can film it in a Mormon church.

  3. I’m contemplating an analysis of Troll 2 tentatively entitled “The Epistemology of the Camp(er).”

    I’m more than a little horrified at myself for even contemplating such a thing.

  4. I can’t wait to read Eve’s analysis. I’ll follow it up with “The Goblin Hermeneutic: Green as ‘The Other’ in Troll 2.”

  5. Worst movie ever? Clearly you have never seen “Manos: The Hands of Fate”.

    Although Troll 2 is pretty close. Best part? The movie doesn’t actually involve (spoiler removed).

    This is because it was not originally a sequel to “Troll”, but the producers were so desperate, they changed the title to try to get a little boost from all those “Troll” fans out there.


  6. My husband’s friends are all obsessed with Troll 2 because it was filmed in their hometown… and before he was allowed to propose to me I had to watch it and they all gauged my reaction to see if I was worthy. Apparently I was as we are now married, but it was stressful at the time to pretend to really like such a horrid movie!


Comments are closed.