Texas Chainsaw Massacre: An Unwieldy Franchise
Let’s face it: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre has been a franchise as sluggish and lumbering as its iconic villain – and as unwieldy as his cherished weapon – for decades now. Since its first sequel (directed by series originator Tobe Hooper) in 1986, the cannibal family has been subjected to two poor first-wave sequels, a remake, and two origin stories, none of which are worth your time.
So, my reaction to news of yet another Texas Chainsaw Massacre was not enthusiastic. In all honesty, if I didn’t have Netflix streaming, I probably wouldn’t have bothered seeking it out.
But as my Twitter feed began to populate with strong opinions from folks looking to have The Most Unique Opinion of All, I decided to fill my otherwise unoccupied February 18th with this David Blue-Garcia-directed sequel.
Small-Town Attitudes
The opening minutes of Texas Chainsaw Massacre do not inspire confidence: centering on a quartet of annoying millennials (including Eighth Grade’s Elsie Fisher) who’ve invested in an abandoned Texas ghost-town named Harlow, they run afoul of a crusty shop owner (who dubs them “gentri-fuckers”) and a gun-toting truck driver. Likewise, the local police don’t seem altogether excited about their arrival.
But the moment when the film clicked for me came when one character says, completely straight-faced: “we’re a group of idealistic youth looking to make a difference.”
This risible bit of dialog made me realize Blue-Garcia (and screenwriter Chris Thomas Devlin, working from a story by Fede Alvarez and Rodo Sayagues) might have his tongue planted at least somewhat in cheek.
Antiquated small-town attitudes are skewered via an obliviously racist orphanage owner (Alice Krige – Gretel & Hansel), and the millennials are triggered by a tattered Confederate Flag hanging off a building. The gun-toting truck driver turns out to be the millennials’ contractor. And Leatherface (Mark Burnham), who’s been holing up in the orphanage since the events of 1973(?!), responds with maximum rage when his sole caregiver dies on the way to the hospital.
The Massacre is the Message
This Texas Chainsaw Massacre taps into the zeitgeist in a manner similar to the much-maligned Halloween Kills. Blue-Garcia isn’t afraid of twisting our expectations in surprising ways – from the millennials starting off as entitled invaders before garnering our sympathy, along with the stoic residents who are presented as closed-minded before springing into action to aid our twentysomething heroes.
Additionally, Leatherface returns to his 1974 roots as a purely reactive presence. Unable to morally rationalize his actions, he shows an inflexibility informed by id-driven rage. He’s not the love-struck goof of 1986’s Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2, or the doomed-from-birth kid with the tragic upbringing from Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning or Leatherface (2017).
He knows where his loyalties lie; once those are gone, watch out. This same approach also paid huge dividends in Halloween Kills, where Michael Myers returned to his origin as an enigmatic, inexplicable vessel for evil.
Here, the titular massacre is the message.
Far From Perfect
Apparently snatched up by Netflix after poor test screenings scuttled faith in a theatrical release, Texas Chainsaw Massacre is far from perfect. The interiors and exteriors of the buildings in Harlow lack the authentic grit and lived-in quality of the structures in the ’74 film. The cast is too conventionally pretty (see also: Texas Chainsaw 3D). And about a dozen supporting characters exist for no other reason than to be slaughtered during a party-bus massacre.
Perhaps most questionable is having our heroine, Lila (Fisher) be the survivor of a Columbine-esque school shooting. While a more insightful film would create a deeper corollary between Leatherface’s rampage and the all-too-real American threat of teenagers taking potshots at their classmates, Texas Chainsaw Massacre uses it as a loose bit of character shading.
What I’m saying is, we don’t need exploitative flashbacks to corpse-strewn hallways to connect the dots to what our understandably gun-shy heroine is feeling once she comes face-to-face with Mr. Skin-Mask. (That said, the film’s gun-positive attitude is one of its more interesting aspects.)
Near-Relentless Impact
Then there’s the reintroduction of Sally Hardesty (Olwen Fouere) for a confrontation with Leatherface nearly a half-century in the making. While clearly influenced by the approach of 2018’s Halloween reboot/sequel, this angle could’ve come off much worse: rendered hard-bitten by her experience in 1973, she is all too willing to spring into action when someone reports a sighting of the hulking brute. Yes, Texas Chainsaw Massacre is an insanely brief film.
Yes, perhaps there should’ve been more build to Sally’s appearance, and more done with her character overall. But I admire the filmmakers’ gall in screwing with viewer expectations and going, uhm, “hog wild” with the violence that ensues. And Fouere (Mandy) does a commendable job of capturing the character’s survivalist mentality.
The longer Texas Chainsaw Massacre went on, the more it entertained me. It hits with near-relentless impact for a lean 81 minutes, pouring on the visceral experience and grisly gore in a manner that washes away the disappointment of several decades’ worth of shitty sequels and reboots. It’s not a particularly deep film, but a nice fit for some no-expectation, Friday-night horror fun.
3 out of 5 stars
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Jonny Numb
Jonny Numb (aka Jonathan Weidler) is only unstoppable when it comes to word count. He co-hosts The Last Knock horror podcast with Billy Crash, and his writing can also be found at The Screening Space.
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(Texas Chainsaw Massacre movie still from Netflix.)