The Texas Chainsaw Massacre

by | Dec 28, 2014 | The Horror Review News | 0 comments

Tobe Hooper’s (Poltergeist, Lifeforce, The Funhouse) directorial debut, The Texas Chain Saw Masscare (TCM), stands alongside William Friedkin’s The Exorcist as the godfather of Grand Guignol in modern horror. The irony in this is that Hooper uses suggestion to its penultimate effect because there is little gore witnessed onscreen and only one person is killed with the title weapon. This is only one example of the masterpiece’s prowess as Hooper issues a daunting account of horror, a cautionary tale regarding the progress of technology as well as a devastating criticism of American culture as a whole, while ingeniously inserting inspired moments of pitch black comedy.

Franklin Hardesty (Paul Partain) and his sister, Sally (Marilyn Burns), along with her boyfriend, Jerry (Allen Danziger), and another couple, Kirk (William Vail) and Pam (Teri McMinn), go to check on the gravesite of the siblings’ grandfather after a rash of grave desecrations have erupted throughout rural Texas. Along the way, they pick up a hostile hitchhiker (Edwin Neal, JFK) before encountering a terror unlike any other.

TCM is not only one of the greatest horror films ever made, but stands as one of the most outstanding cinematic efforts to date. Hooper, instead of allowing his restricted budget to bind and limit his vision, devised a script (along with Kim Henkel) which would compliment the dire nature of the financing. Thus, when he has Sally state, “Everything means somethin’,” the comment can be taken meta cinematically. With this in mind, each and every aspect of the film functions symbiotically as it esteems toward total effect. For example, the sparse budget is paralleled by an equally meager storyline. However, the metaphorical import of TCM is so subtle due to Hooper’s simplistic plot (and effortless depiction of the tale) that the work’s meaning becomes daunting once examined (i.e. the works of Ernest Hemingway and John Steinbeck and the films of Steven Spielberg and Stanley Kubrick). Also, by setting the production in Texas, the gritty film stock echoes the backwoods nature of the Sawyer family and its mentality (which makes the secondary cast of Deliverance look cultured). The pacing and editing further reinforce the threatening scenario as editors Larry Carroll and Sallye Richardson, ever to deviously and economically, bring the viewers to the edge of their seats once Leatherface (Gunnar Hansen) makes his appearance. Finally, Wayne Bell and Hooper wisely strip the soundtrack midway through the film as we follow Sally as she attempts to evade Leatherface. In so doing, they force us to confront and contend with the situation with minimal distraction in which to escape.

Ultimately, Hooper’s masterpiece is a scathing criticism of American capitalism. The film proper begins with the caravan traveling down the road as we listen to a news anchor report, not only of local grave robbers, but also of various crimes throughout the country. Shortly thereafter, the group of innocent kids are first met (unknowingly) by a member of the Sawyer family when they stop for gas. Jim Siedow (The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2), merely credited as “Old Man,” reports that the station is out of gas (paralleled by the Hardest pond having dried up over the years, further reflecting the economy of the period). However, once we are introduced to the entire Sawyer clan, we discover that Chop Top, whom we first meet as the hitchhiker, epitomized the family’s dilemma early in the film with his sentiment that “With the new way . . . people put out of jobs” in regards to why he believes that the traditional technique of cattle slaughter, “sledging,” is more effective then the “air bolt” method proposed by Franklin. Thus, we are given a portrait of a family history deeply rooted in butchery which has found itself devoid of purpose in the wake of technology. The Sawyers, unable to change with the times, have consequentially subsided via the only method they know: slaughter. In this respect, the film operates as a revenge flick (TCM is part of a period series of films during the 1970’s referred to as the Backwoods Brutality Cycle, which includes Wes Craven’s The Hills have Eyes and The Last House on the Left, Meir Zarchi’s I Spit on Your Grave, and John Boorman’s aforementioned Deliverance) as Hooper, who is obviously critical of modern standards and its effects, issues an offbeat cautionary tale.

What’s interesting in this regard is that the Sawyers are forced to resort to cannibalism since, however ironical, they were the victims of the dog-eat-dog world of capitalism (the metaphor of cannibalism is frequently implemented as a symbol of society feeding off of itself). A perverted sympathy is thus inflicted upon the audience as Old Man states, “I just can’t take no pleasure in killing. There’s just some things you gotta do. Don’t mean you have to like it.” Equally ironical is the fact that our pity is first evoked by Leatherface’s benevolent counterpart, Franklin, who is not only a paraplegic, but is also preyed upon by his peers due to his inquisitive nature (he ponders the willpower necessary to deliberately cut oneself after having watched Chop Top slice the palm of his hand) as Jerry tortures him by ominously reaffirming Franklin’s fears that the insane hitchhiker will come back to kill him. Later in the film, we witness Old Man as he berates and threatens Leatherface, an obviously mentally inept person whom it is doubtful whether he is aware of the moral ramifications of the family. Furthermore, there exists the parallel of the Sawyer family ties alongside blood bond between the siblings, Franklin and Sally. Lastly, the distance between the two groups is further removed in Hooper’s having Franklin eat the Sawyer’s barbeque atop the fact that Grandfather Hardesty, decades prior, provided cattle to the cannibalistic family.

The masterstroke of the film is the manner in which it is presented. I have already commented upon the technical aspects of the film. However, the film is daunting due to the combination of its writing and stylistics as we are abruptly (to put it lightly) bombarded by Leatherface’s appearance atop the chaos which follows. The insanity of the events which unfold are thrust forward by the bedlam of the characters. The mayhem involved after Chop Top and Leatherface bring Grandfather Sawyer (John Dugan) downstairs in order to display a learned killing stroke upon Sally borders on the absurd as the all-male family (Grandmother was briefly seen upstairs, the result of someone’s less-than-admirable attempt at taxidermy) has eradicated any and all semblances of civilization in the absence of a female’s humanizing presence (a common Western motif). The upshot of this is that the audience is met by, not a lone killer (which was traditional and expected during the time in horror), but a family of murders who, after being repeatedly informed of their butchering expertise, fail to execute their victim after a joint effort.

Yet, it is easy to miss the most pungent black humor of the work due to the shear weight of what is appearing onscreen. As we receive reports of grave robbing, we are given two decrepit corpses performing a languid reenactment of marital bliss in a macabre fellacio scene between the dead (compliments of Chop Top). After Franklin forces the trivia that using a sledgehammer to kill cattle is oftentimes ineffective on the first–and sometimes second–occasion, Leatherface must resort to multiple blows in order to subdue Kirk. Similarly, while Chop Top is riding with the group, he cites the fact that every part of a cow is utilized in processing and that nothing is wasted prior to our entering the Sawyer home where the family has taken the adage to heart, having constructed entire couches and lamps out of human bones and skin. It is on the top floor of the same house where we see Grandmother Sawyer that Sally upsets the family pet, long dead, yet still adored enough for one of the remaining Sawyers to grant it another, however malformed, coat of fur. Of course, this says nothing of Franklin unknowingly eating the Sawyer meat or of Chop Top’s demise after being met by the grill of cattle truck. Lastly, though I’m not quite sure if the scenario is intended to comical (I argue it might be because it seems to add to the illogical mayhem engulfing the film), is the fact that Leatherface changes masks throughout the film (I will abstain from commenting on Leatherface’s choice of white button-up and tie).

As with any film, TCM is not without problems. The characters of Pam and Kirk are underdeveloped (Sally is thinly portrayed) yet many have cited the film’s resolution as being too abrupt, such critics citing the deus ex machina appearance of not one but two trucks in order to allow Sally to escape being all too convenient. Yet, I found that the breakneck pacing of the movie works alongside this climax as the heroine (natch, survivor at best in this case as we can obviously see in Sally’s face the fact that she will never mentally recover from the nightmare) speeds away, leaving Leatherface dancing in the dawn with his trademark weapon.

My assessment of Tobe Hooper’s directorial debut is humble at best because, in concurrence with film critic Rob Vaux, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre is literally beyond analysis and comment. In many respects, it is as close to pure art as has been witnessed onscreen yet the film remains, mostly due to its notoriety (which it does not merit), an often overlooked masterpiece of cinema.

Trivia tidbit(s): 1) John Larroquette, of Night Court fame, narrated the prologue, 2) the film was shot chronologically, and 3) financing for TCM was made available via the profits from Gerard Damiano’s Deep Throat.

-Egregious Gurnow

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