"There must be a light burning brighter somewhere. There must be birds flying higher in the sky so blue…" - Jimmy Fetus
Run, run, run. Chase, chase, chase. Kill, kill, kill. Redundant, redundant, redundant. Forty minutes after seeing New Line's latest Halloween commodity, I forgot I was even there, once awash in the glow of its heaving presence. This doesn't bode well. Is Micheal Bay's reconstructed Texas Chainsaw Massacre worth our time? That seems to be the question of the day.
Well, is it?
I'm going to say "No." I didn't like it. Not one bit. It wasn't fun. It didn't reinvent the genre (as its creators have gleefully stated). This is nothing more than TCM 5. It has as much in common with the original as Next Generation did. Why isn't it being called a sequel, falling behind its predecessors in numerical order? Because 3 and 4 were washouts at the Cineplex. Not many people are going to knowingly pay for a fifth installment of that sorted crappy aptitude. 4 didn't even play theatrically, getting a home video release only after Mathew McConaughey and Renee Zellweger's sudden burst of fame. Calling this a remake is going to get people interested. It will ring their curiosity bell. Still, at the end of the day, this is just another film in the franchise; a stacked account of events that have already played out in the mind of the viewer. Let's face it, there's nowhere else to go with this material. Marcus Nispel's new try-hard copout assures us of that fact within minutes. He's resurrecting the fictional Ed Gein mythos for what? Nothing but a profit it seems. That; and to keep Leatherface's name on the marquee. New Line Cinema is nothing without its horror contingent. And I think at this point they own them all: Chucky, Freddy, Jason, Bones, and a fat guy whose last name used to be Sawyer.
This revisionist take on actual "cinematic" events is missing its main structural beat in sustenance. The series has always been about one thing: Dinner. All the films, up until this latest installment, have dealt with the trials and tribulations had by a bunch of horny, deformed Texas rednecks gathering for one sole purpose. This was to capture a beautiful co-ed, kill all her friends, and then have her over for a supper date. With her chopped-up buddies serving as the main course; this male-inclusive family of cannibals, grandpa included, would gather around their sexy female victim and vie for her wanton attention over a plate of human intestines. She never necessarily enjoyed the meal, or the conversation. How can a girl eat with a guy like Leatherface staring at her? Not to mention her hands are nailed into the armrests of her chair. Ouch! Let's face it. This has been the plot of the last four films. Simple enough. It's been done. There's not really a lot more you can do with the material. That's the second reason they couldn't make a sequel. It would disappear off the screen in fleeting bleats of gore.
The first film served it best. And this ritualistic evening meal gave Leatherface a reason to have a family. The gimmick inspired joke fodder for Dan Aykroyd's Nothing But Trouble, and became a requisite cliché with Rob Zombie's House of 1000 Corpses. Let's face it, if you get lost in the middle of Texas, Nowhere, and you come across a rampaging, chainsaw-wielding family of killers, chances are they're not going to sit you down in front of a steak plate; as colorful as they may seem. It just doesn't happen. How many movies can you make on this base idea? About four, and then you're through. You've got to reinvent yourself.
That's exactly what this new film sets out to do. They completely throw out the supper table esthetic. They reference it in a joke, but our lovely Jessica Biel is never invited to that proverbial slaughterhouse banquet. That's too bad, because its absence creates an empty chasm within this scripted blueprint. The soul purpose of the "Sawyer" tribe is killed off. We've come to accept the midpoint picnic. Without it, there's simply no reason for any of these characters, with the exception of Leatherface, to exist. It is the main point upon which the whole purpose of the story is centered. It's like painting a picture of Christ's last Supper, and not including the table or the wine.
If we're not going to have the "dinner table" scene, then why else introduce us to Leatherface's immediate family? That's the joke. They are a nuclear unit. Even though they're f*cked up, mutated, and emptying colostomy bags into the kitchen sink, they still care about each other. This has always been represented by the Sawyers (now renamed the Hewitts) nightly communal feast-filled gatherings. Just like any one family might sit down and have after saying prayer.
Here's where my problem comes in with this new redo. Back in the seventies, Tobe Hooper could metaphorically suggest unison and familial comfort within the idealistic concept of a domestic dinner table. But that was two decades ago. Today, in our current social environment, not many families gather for dinner. They don't often sit together as a group. Statistics prove this. The new film is in unison with this idea, as are the renamed Hewitts. Leatherface's family is spread out. It's the evening. Leatherface is in the basement playing with dead bodies. His older brother is out driving around, presumably doing a state-issued job. Dad's upstairs tending to his private business. Mom and sis are off living in a trailer behind the house, removed from the very core of the family itself. This is a representation of our current time in societal history. If the movie took place in 2003, then it would be a great sequel to the first TCM at level with what that film attempted to achieve. But no, it's a remake that takes place in 1973, the exact year as the original. That's where the fallacy lies. The film fails at realizing its own intended purpose. We are inundated with a Double-O sensibility. This story isn't supposed to be about today. It's about yesterday. This remake loses that susceptibility, and that's what ruins its inherent nature. The idealistic 70s perception that the first film mocked and paid homage to is missing. This new Texas Chainsaw Massacre is a showy, superfluous marketing ploy minus any social commentary. The filmmakers claimed they weren't making a slasher flick. That's too bad because that's exactly what this is. And the only metaphorical resonance rests in the slight message that "Rock Concerts and Drugs are BAD!" If you attempt to seek out and partake in those activities, this is what might happen to your diseased soul, so listen up. That these doomed kids are going to a Lynard Skynard concert is pretty amusing, considering the actual calamities that plagued that band right into the ground.
Anyone claiming an affinity for this new abomination of the original Leatherface legend has missed the point. They're either not familiar with the material, or they don't quite understand what Tobe Hooper was trying to accomplish. According to New Line's press notes, 90% of the film's intended targeted demographic haven't actually seen the original, yet they're fully aware of its status as a classic. Marcus Nispel's version is well made. It's exquisitely produced; trickster-slick and at times extremely beautiful. This is a pristine treatment of what used to be raw stock. They've gone and given a facelift to one of the ugliest pieces of cinema ever pumped out in bits of bleeding beef. This drives a hole back into the dueling decade sensibilities of its origin. This is why it doesn't work. It's "too" showy. They've given the ugliest girl in class a make-over. They've taken away her inner beauty and filled her with silicon. She's now primed to wear the prom tiara. We don't want that. The initial set-up was a roughshod, dirty, gritty, grimy piece of exploitation art. When people saw it for the first time, they thought they were looking at a snuff film. It literally chewed you with its awful atmosphere. It had a realistic documentary feel to it, as if these things were actually happening. That's all gone now, replaced by green filters better utilized by David Fincher ten years ago. At every level, this feels like an idea dreamed up by a couple of ad executives. Don't they have anything better to do than screw around with a masterpiece?
Sure, Tobe Hooper shot out his vision in crayon against a brown paper sack. Some call it art, some call it garbage. But it still is what it is: An American Original. And they have it hanging in the museum of modern art. If that's the case, they should treat it like a framed treasure. Imagine someone looking at one of Georges Seurat's painting and saying, "I like it, but not enough people have yet seen this work. I'm going to hire someone to repaint the same picture, only I'm not going to have them use little dots. I don't like little dots. I'm going to have them paint the picture in broad, blended strokes." That's a ludicrous idea, right? You know you agree with me. Well, they've basically done that exact thing here. They've hired someone to repaint a picture using completely different techniques, but they want to slap the same name on it. Talk about back-handed blasphemy. Why does it have to reclaim the original? It shouldn't be employed in such a matter, yet it is.
Leatherface is my least favorite icon in the slash genre. I've never liked him, and usually root for the protagonists when watching one of his many episodic adventures (That couldn't be less true here, though. I, like many of you, want nothing more than to see Ms. Seventh Heaven hooch-slut chopped up into tiny bits. And I haven't liked Eric Balfour since he did Joey Potter wrong those many years ago on Dawson's Creek). Parts 3 and 4 completely ruined the man behind the mask. He got turned into a real pussy. He's just not a scary guy. Looking at him, I always have to think to myself, "I could kick this douche-bag's hymen through his nose hole." He runs around like a dolt, and doesn't really know how to use a chainsaw. I mean, you wouldn't want him sitting next to you on a bus, and it would be difficult to stare at him while eating an Arby's roast beef sandwich, but Leatherface is quite harmless. He's ugly and has a really bad personality, that's for sure. In terms of cinema killers, he's the odd man out. He's the Andrew Goodemoot of Horror High School.
Here, though, they manage to bring back the awesome power that made Leatherface such a standout in his initial introduction. He's back to basics as a literal powerhouse. You don't want to mess with this f*ck. For awhile, his new persona is truly frightening. And he actually gets to swing his saw in ways we've envisioned, but up until now, have never seen realized on the big screen.
Then they go and shatter the mood by turning him into a sympathetic character. First, they give him a proper name. Big mistake. We see him for the first time without his mask on. This is where the movie lost it for me. The mystique is forever gone. Leatherface, under all that stolen human skin, looks just like Pooh-Bear from The Salton Sea. Been there, done that. No unforgiving surprise; he ain't got a nose. Later, we see Leatherface's arm cut off, and he can no longer wield his chainsaw. The scene is set-up in a way that we are actually supposed to feel kind of sorry for the little guy. This comes after a speech given by his mom about how the boy is special, and how all the kids used to pick on him. Hmm? First of all, what are women doing in the Sawyer household? Again, this is an "03" sensibility ruling out the actual decade the film takes place in. Second of all, we can't really feel empathetic towards some retard that likes to slice up and eat young teenagers.
We don't feel sorry for those kids that shot-up columbine. Yet that's exactly what this film is asking us to do. And it's done in a sneaky way. It takes its lead female and turns her into a killer as unforgiving as Leatherface himself. By this point, the audience is cheering for Jessica Biel. They applaud, even though Biel has become the hunter. It gives license to necessary violence, and makes the claim that if wrong is done to you, its okay for you to wrong others. Again, this wasn't necessarily the manifesto of the original working screenplay.
Despite a declaration by the filmmakers that this is a suspense movie and not your typical kill count fare, the end turns into nothing but one long twenty minute chase. It's pointlessly exhausting. It's the exploitation of Exploitation Art. It's a weird warping of concept over matter. I can't willingly jump aboard this remake train, no matter how many of you self-righteous asswhores claim that it works, and that it's great, and scary. Yawn!
F*ck the people that made this movie. Don't call it "THE" Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Call it Texas Chainsaw Massacre 5: New Beginnings; maybe then I'd show your film some respect. Oh, but that would lose you a pocket full of cash on opening weekend, now wouldn't it. You soul sucking vampires. I hope Ed Gein awakens from the dead and eats your kidneys while you sleep.
Hell is looking bleaker by the moment. What next? Are they going to give Freddy a manicure and replace Jason's hockey mask with a football helmet?
F*ckers! F*ck you all! Come up with something new for a change why don't you?
Comments & Responses
More Theatrical Reviews
"Fans of the series should be pleased by a well-executed retelling of their favorite story while newcomers looking for an intelligent "slasher" picture will enjoy the dimensional characters and well-conceived plot." ByDerek May
"It's a very well-made movie that is a nice homage to the original, but would've been even nicer if they had a different script or actors...except for Jessica Biel and her tank top, of course.
" ByBrian Gallagher
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