The Texas Chainsaw Massacre
July 3rd 2008 02:12
Yes, it’s about time I reviewed this seminal piece of modern horror. Along with Night of the Living Dead (1968) and The Exorcist (1973), The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) cemented the new “hardcore” style of filmmaking in the horror genre. The modern horror movie was here to stay, although this landmark wasn’t wholly recognised at the time. In fact The Texas Chainsaw Massacre suffered terribly at the hands of censors and distributors.
The movie wasn’t released uncut outside of America until 1978 where it was released in West Germany under the title Bloodright in Texas. It was banned in Australasia until 1982 and in the UK until 1999. In Japan the movie was re-titled The Devil of Punishment. Curiously producer/director Tobe Hooper hoped to receive a PG rating from the MPAA so he purposefully kept the on-screen violence to a moderate level and omitted any expletives from the dialogue. However, and rightly so, the MPAA refused to give the movie anything lower than an R.
And yes, for a film of such frightening and disturbing intensity, there is very little on-screen bloodshed, so in that respect it bears similarity to another seminal, but “restrained”, modern horror, John Carpenter’s Halloween (1978). In fact, the title itself is one of modern horror’s most deceptively effective.
Shot on 16mm and blown-up to 35mm, the movie was filmed in chronological order over a short period in the blistering Texan summer using profits the film company had made from it’s previous release, Deep Throat. The working titles were Headcheese and Leatherface, the release title was decided upon late in post-production. The narration at the beginning of the movie which states that the following events are based on real events which occurred on August 18, 1973 (which is actually false, though screenwriters Hooper and Kim Henkel did take inspiration from southern serial killer-cannibal Ed Gein) is voiced by none other than comedian John Larroquette. Strange, but true.
Sally Hardesty (Marilyn Burns), her invalid brother Franklin (Paul Partain), her boyfriend Jerry Allen Danziger), Kirk (William Vail) and his girlfriend Pam (Teri McMinn) are traveling in a van to visit the abandoned home of the Hardesty grandfather. Along the way they pick up a hitchhiker (Edwin Neal) who is mentally unhinged, to put it mildly. After he deliberately cuts himself, and then slices Franklin, he’s kicked out, but not before he makes various threats.
Later the five arrive at the decrepit homestead. Kirk and Pam venture off to the local swimming hole, only to discover it’s dried up. They spot a farmhouse and decide to arrange for some petrol. It is here that they run foul of the Sawyer family. Jerry investigates, and after dark Sally, reluctantly pushing Franklin’s wheelchair, also goes searching.
I hadn’t watched this movie in quite a while, and I’d forgotten how damn surefooted it is as a horror movie. Of course it has a cult following, and is considered by many as the Granddaddy of horror movies, but I’d always thought of it as messy and depressingly lo-fi. Watching an excellent new DVD transfer it was like re-discovering the film. I never realised how well shot the movie is; Hooper composes and edits the film brilliantly, with his cinematographer Daniel Pearl (who’d end up shooting the 2003 remake) and editors Sallye Richardson and Larry Carroll.
The spare score, by Hooper and Wayne Bell, is truly unnerving, a fantastic use of mechanical and animal sound effects grating, grinding, squealing and groaning. Two stunning uses of sound and vision are during the opening sequence where police camera flashes illuminate decomposing bodies in the darkness whilst a terrifying metallic screech accompanies each flash. The other example is when Leatherface (Gunnar Hansen) kills the first victim – also the most horrific death as it comes suddenly and brutally – with a sledgehammer and slams shut the steel sliding door.
Hooper films all the night scenes in available light, which adds a genuine sense of claustrophobia. And he draws out the perverse “domestic” action in the gas station back room to an unbearable level where Sally’s ghastly ordeal becomes a demented climax, extreme close-ups of her terrified bloodshot emerald eyes, her face contorted in utter shock and sheer abject horror, as skeletal Grandpa sucks on her cut finger (a real wound).
WARNING! CONTAINS SPOILERS!
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre was a landmark movie, and it still packs a visceral, emotional wallop. No horror movie up to that point had captured and exploited such realism (which verges on the surreal). The tone and atmosphere were authentic in their grim darkness. The images of a blood-caked Sally sobbing/laughing hysterically on the back of the pick-up truck zooming away, leaving Leatherface limping in frustrated circles, whirling his chainsaw around and around in the early morning light are some of modern horror’s most memorable.
[On a special tangential note, in 2003 influential American magazine Entertainment Weekly ran a survey for the top cult movies. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre came in at #6, the only modern horror movie in the top ten. Curiously, but not entirely surprising, the rest of the top ten were all dark in tone: The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975) at #2, Freaks (1932) at #3, Harold and Maude (1971) at #4, Pink Flamingos (1972) at #5, Repo Man (1984) at #7, Scarface (1983) at #8, Blade Runner (1982) at #9, and The Shawshank Redemption at #10. At #1? This Is Spinal Tap, one of my very favourite comedies, black of course.]
Here's the original trailer (warning: for those uninitiated, it contains spoilers):
The movie wasn’t released uncut outside of America until 1978 where it was released in West Germany under the title Bloodright in Texas. It was banned in Australasia until 1982 and in the UK until 1999. In Japan the movie was re-titled The Devil of Punishment. Curiously producer/director Tobe Hooper hoped to receive a PG rating from the MPAA so he purposefully kept the on-screen violence to a moderate level and omitted any expletives from the dialogue. However, and rightly so, the MPAA refused to give the movie anything lower than an R.
And yes, for a film of such frightening and disturbing intensity, there is very little on-screen bloodshed, so in that respect it bears similarity to another seminal, but “restrained”, modern horror, John Carpenter’s Halloween (1978). In fact, the title itself is one of modern horror’s most deceptively effective.
Shot on 16mm and blown-up to 35mm, the movie was filmed in chronological order over a short period in the blistering Texan summer using profits the film company had made from it’s previous release, Deep Throat. The working titles were Headcheese and Leatherface, the release title was decided upon late in post-production. The narration at the beginning of the movie which states that the following events are based on real events which occurred on August 18, 1973 (which is actually false, though screenwriters Hooper and Kim Henkel did take inspiration from southern serial killer-cannibal Ed Gein) is voiced by none other than comedian John Larroquette. Strange, but true.
Sally Hardesty (Marilyn Burns), her invalid brother Franklin (Paul Partain), her boyfriend Jerry Allen Danziger), Kirk (William Vail) and his girlfriend Pam (Teri McMinn) are traveling in a van to visit the abandoned home of the Hardesty grandfather. Along the way they pick up a hitchhiker (Edwin Neal) who is mentally unhinged, to put it mildly. After he deliberately cuts himself, and then slices Franklin, he’s kicked out, but not before he makes various threats.
Later the five arrive at the decrepit homestead. Kirk and Pam venture off to the local swimming hole, only to discover it’s dried up. They spot a farmhouse and decide to arrange for some petrol. It is here that they run foul of the Sawyer family. Jerry investigates, and after dark Sally, reluctantly pushing Franklin’s wheelchair, also goes searching.
I hadn’t watched this movie in quite a while, and I’d forgotten how damn surefooted it is as a horror movie. Of course it has a cult following, and is considered by many as the Granddaddy of horror movies, but I’d always thought of it as messy and depressingly lo-fi. Watching an excellent new DVD transfer it was like re-discovering the film. I never realised how well shot the movie is; Hooper composes and edits the film brilliantly, with his cinematographer Daniel Pearl (who’d end up shooting the 2003 remake) and editors Sallye Richardson and Larry Carroll.
The spare score, by Hooper and Wayne Bell, is truly unnerving, a fantastic use of mechanical and animal sound effects grating, grinding, squealing and groaning. Two stunning uses of sound and vision are during the opening sequence where police camera flashes illuminate decomposing bodies in the darkness whilst a terrifying metallic screech accompanies each flash. The other example is when Leatherface (Gunnar Hansen) kills the first victim – also the most horrific death as it comes suddenly and brutally – with a sledgehammer and slams shut the steel sliding door.
Hooper films all the night scenes in available light, which adds a genuine sense of claustrophobia. And he draws out the perverse “domestic” action in the gas station back room to an unbearable level where Sally’s ghastly ordeal becomes a demented climax, extreme close-ups of her terrified bloodshot emerald eyes, her face contorted in utter shock and sheer abject horror, as skeletal Grandpa sucks on her cut finger (a real wound).
WARNING! CONTAINS SPOILERS!
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre was a landmark movie, and it still packs a visceral, emotional wallop. No horror movie up to that point had captured and exploited such realism (which verges on the surreal). The tone and atmosphere were authentic in their grim darkness. The images of a blood-caked Sally sobbing/laughing hysterically on the back of the pick-up truck zooming away, leaving Leatherface limping in frustrated circles, whirling his chainsaw around and around in the early morning light are some of modern horror’s most memorable.
[On a special tangential note, in 2003 influential American magazine Entertainment Weekly ran a survey for the top cult movies. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre came in at #6, the only modern horror movie in the top ten. Curiously, but not entirely surprising, the rest of the top ten were all dark in tone: The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975) at #2, Freaks (1932) at #3, Harold and Maude (1971) at #4, Pink Flamingos (1972) at #5, Repo Man (1984) at #7, Scarface (1983) at #8, Blade Runner (1982) at #9, and The Shawshank Redemption at #10. At #1? This Is Spinal Tap, one of my very favourite comedies, black of course.]
Here's the original trailer (warning: for those uninitiated, it contains spoilers):
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Comment by Damo
Big man with a big mask and a big chainsaw.
Just a side note: Repo Man (1984) That film means a lot to me. I was working in a car detailers when it came out. So I can relate to all the characters.
Comment by Bryn
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I haven't seen Repo Man in years! About time I tracked a copy down ...
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If you lived in Melbourne I'd watch it with you.
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