THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE

A morbid masterpiece of calculated suspense, naturalistic technique, and the human body as meat, no other film has proved as profoundly disturbing, oft-imitated, or consistently misunderstood as first-time director Tobe Hooper's debut. A bitch-slap to the failings of the 'love and peace' generation that had already drowned beneath the re-awoken cynicism and sense of betrayal so organic to the cultural atmosphere in the seventies, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre fed into -- and reflected -- the anger, paranoia, and angst of a people (primarily the young) who felt no safer than the bruised, bloody, and beaten characters of the grimmest adrenaline rush ever to hit the screens. First shocking audiences in 1974, this exorcism of cultural fear and distrust of the older generation (as well as each other!) was met with a confused mix of awe, reverence, and disgust. One thing it didn't do was bore. A massacre it promised, and a massacre it delivered, butchering audiences pre-programmed faith in humanity and the safety of civilization with the same brutal finality that Leather face -- soon to become a household name -- cut through flesh.

Securing his importance in genre history with the psychological realism and fetishistic brutality of this debut, Tope Hooper's film derives the majority of its power from suggestion and suspense rather than the gore which is often erroneously attributed to it. A low budget cinematic naturalist, Hooper crafted a shock experience that worked on both a surface and sub contextual level, attacking the subconscious as effectively with its archetypal fear of physical pain and dismemberment as its surface imagery attacked the mind's eye with jump scares, suspense, and the more profound terror inspired by the world of normal values and associations turned upside down. A well paced vivisection of the hypocrisy of American society, focusing on a simplistic story of survival as its adolescents struggled to avoid murder and cannibalism threatened by a retarded image of the 'All American' family, Texas Chainsaw is also admirable in Hooper's ability to repel the unconscious, focusing our universal fear of the unknown on the Sawyer family and all they represent.

Those that understood the film's brilliant combination of violent imagery and rougher subtext enjoyed it as much for its brutal honesty. The many critics who attacked it did so because the movie saw too deep, too far into the basic corruptness of the human spirit. Its viscous if poignant social commentary of small town life, rural degeneracy, and the all-to--relevant (especially at that time!) battle between cultures and clashing age groups is still felt today. Admirers of exploitation cinema simply enjoyed its bold, reckless attitude, technical efficiency, and uniqueness. Years later, it's easy to respect The Texas Chainsaw Massacre as both entertainment and serious art, for beneath the deceivingly simplistic if effective cat-and-mouse hysterics of its charnel house ballet, the film attempts, perhaps unconsciously, to examine the roots of insanity and the human desire to survive even the worst carnage. The original prototype for the fetishistic thrills, blood-spilling, and intensity of later 'slasher' films, Chainsaw is more important for what it accomplished through suggestion and the effective establishment of suspense than for what it showed -- perhaps a strange sounding statement given the reputation of the film, but accurate when describing the aesthetic, emotional, and intellectual power of Hooper's bloody symbolic Psycho of the seventies.

In a plot that remains effective precisely because of its initial simplicity and gradual build-up from the mundane to the terrifying, Chainsaw is a perfect example of the 'less is more' school of aesthetics, suggesting far more than it ever shows. Hooper's skill at shoving us right to the edge of violent scenes and cutting away as the actual carnage takes place fools our mind's eye into believing that we see more than what is shown. In fact, all we see of gore or physical violence, for the most part, is what our mind shows us. By giving us the context and charging our expectations, Hooper makes us active participants in the terror. The most powerful scenes of carnage and violent death in this movie occur in your own mind because Hooper craftily builds moments of such intense possibility, action, and consequence that you don't even realize until afterwards that you supplied the viscera. The movie feels so unrelenting, so horrible, because of the organic, naturalistic way that Hooper films the action. This is a film that doesn't feel like a film. Rather, it feels like a documentary or nightmarish glimpse into a backyard from hell. Characters, setting, atmosphere: everything is dramatized not by the flash of Hollywood gloss but in the sweat and blood of life.

An uneasy alliance between humor and horror, Chainsaw sports an undeniable streak of humanity against the hard-shell of its story. The resulting psychological terror, both as primal experience and as a scathing attack against culture, makes it more effective. Because these characters are people we get to know, complete with irritating habits, laughter, histories, and motivations, we care when they're jeopardized. In short, Hooper doesn't simply trot them out for dismemberment. Beginning with disturbing shots of a grotesquely displayed corpse in a cemetery, the plot then proceeds to a sweat drenched highway, lingering on a shot of road-kill (perhaps symbolizing the amorality of a universe that thinks no more of people being butchered than armadillos?). Before the end of the film, our characters will be dispatched with no more passion or concern by the murderers than most people show for this road kill. Our van-full of swinging seventies hippies, including wheel-chair bound Franklin, his sister, and two of their friends, are on the way to Franklin's ancestral property somewhere in the backwoods of Texas, we discover, as the story flows along, staring at events unemotionally and without moral comment, forcing the audience to draw its own conclusions. Establishing characters and their relationships with one another in seemingly naturalistic ways, the crew wind-up ignoring the advice of a cracked-looking gas station owner, finding the family farm . . . and a night of terror. You know the rest, or you should. If not, watch the movie, lunkhead!

As important for bringing horror out of the gothic shadows of the supernatural and onto everyday back-roads as it was for establishing a frantic new way of examining violence, Chainsaw haunted the collective psyche of a nation torn by war, politics, familial disintegration, and its own dissatisfaction. Both awed and attracted to this mean bastard of celluloid, the low budget, misanthropic message of Hooper's classic is simple: namely, that there is no message -- no saving grace or logic, no security in law or numbers or reason. This depiction of an amoral and dangerous world remains every bit as scary as its chainsaw enemas and leering titular family of deviants. Suggesting within the confines of the everyday that there are no laws, manners, or people who can be depended on, the film whipping away the 'good fabric' of reality from beneath its character's feet. Because the action -- the horror, the tragedy, the torture and humiliation -- are evoked in the midst of everyday USA, on a normal looking back-road, in the blazing security of a hot Texas sun, viewers are forced to confront the reality of pain and violence without the emotional or artistic security blankets so often supplied by fantasy or supernatural elements. Instead, the careful direction of Hooper, realistic performances by people who look exactly like average folks (not actors), and the dirty, gorilla-style of shooting strips away ANY illusions of fantasy, making the terror as real as pin, as unavoidable as the moment you see your loved ones carried away by death. This is grim, suspenseful stuff, not the popcorn pleasures of mainstream Hollywood.

Hooper and company work hard at constructing moments of emotional pain and empathy which invite audiences to share in the misery. We imagine the cruel end of Franklin as the chainsaw descends, feel the hopelessness of Sally setting at the Sawyer's mad supper with 'Grandpa,' and on a more subversive level, experience both the rage of Leatherface's pursuit of his victims as well as the panic of the escapee. Perhaps no other scene describes the honest brutality and aesthetic choice of Hooper to treat violent death as realistically as possible as when Leatherface knocks an ill fated-teen on the head and drags his twitching corpse into his meat-cutting room without any dramatic posturing. This scene is remarkable for a number of reasons, not the least of which is Hooper's choice to stage it without music or the fetishism of the Slasher film; the murder isn't pretty nor an astounding show piece meant to elicit admiration; it is, rather, brutal, simplistic, and as senseless and crude as death in the waking world. Second, by allowing the camera to focus on the twitching of the victim's body, the corpse resembles nothing so much as the killing of animals in a slaughterhouse. Most importantly, Hooper captures the terrible waste of death -- not through sermonizing but simply by looking at the carnage without the benefit of special FX, which would have distracted us from the simple brutality of the scene.

While Pioneer's version of this macabre masterpiece was admirable, this two-disc special addition of the most influential post-Psycho horror film to ever make chainsaw vivisections look line a fine art is simply PACKED with goodies. Presented in an anamorphic widescreen transfer, this is the best Hooper's filmic debut has ever looked! An HD transfer from the original; 16mm negative, the picture shows no signs of speckling, dirt, or grain, the picture is evenly distributed, and the colors are lush. While the picture still looks low lit and grimy, this was the intent of the crew, capturing further the illusion of realism. The elements themselves have been cleaned considerably. Audio is likewise impressive, containing both Digital Dolby 5.1 and 2.0 Stereo, not to mention the original mono track. Both provide enjoyable listening, free from distraction of muffling echoes, bringing the pain into your living room. Subtitles in English and Spanish are also provided.

Extras are where this edition really stand out. Treating the film with the respect and admiration it deserves, Dark Sky surrounds The Texas Chainsaw Massacre with supplements that supply historical context, social commentary and technological know-how to the experience of enjoying this classic, also making sure to explore the personalities of the people both behind and in-front of the camera. Along with Pioneer's old audio commentary, featuring Hooper, Daniel Pearl, and Gunner Hansen, Disc one offers a NEW commentary with stars Marilyn Burns, Alan Danziger, and art director Robert A. Burns, the set-designer who lent such believability and tension to the script with sets as indicative of the insane Sawyer's minds as they were frightening precursors to the terror to come. While the Pioneer commentary is certainly generous, featuring much of interest, worthwhile for the rapport of Burns and company alone, this updated audio track offers more details about the film itself, as well as a greater level of insight about its principle cast and crew. Gunnar Hansen is full of fun antidotes, painting portraits for listeners of the hard-working, hard playing set. His generous personality comes through in the commentary, as does a rather grim attitude towards Paul Partine, who played Franklin (and who, it seems, played his whiny character too well). Cinematographer Daniel Pearl and director Tobe Hooper are very focused and intimate, revealing gossip and attitudes about themselves, the film, and the genre as a whole that are surprising and often tinged with humor. Enjoying a solid sense of friendship, they delve deep into the trials of making the film, the hectic schedule, Robert Burn's amazing set contributions. Of much interest is Hooper's confession that little blood is seen in the film not so much because he was making an artistic statement but rather because he was courting the favor of the MPAA trying to earn a PG rating (which of course it didn't receive). Further, he admits that while he based the movie, in part, on legends he heard from his family as a child concerning Ed Gein, he didn't realize the full extent of the man's crimes (or the name of Gein himself) for years after the shoot. It's also interesting too note how many of the post-production details of the film were not in Hooper's hands. Disc One also includes 2 Texas Chainsaw Massacre trailers, two television spots, and two radio spots. Other trailers include Eaten Alive, Henry, Henry (2), and The Manson Family.

Disc two features a bulk of the new material, including The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Shocking Truth," directed by David Gregory. This is a serious, multi-faceted, and in-depth story behind the story of the film, including choice cuts of the film interlocked with revealing interviews with cast and crew, and a finally polished, carefully structured voice-over narration that sets an informative, chilling tone. While focused primarily on the film itself, this documentary also studies the overall atmosphere and influence of the late sixties and seventies itself, covering such bold new classics of the time as Night of the Living Dead and The Last House On The Left, investigating how the bold themes, controversial material, inconclusive endings, and nihilism of these scathing films mirrored and lent further fire to the culture of the time. Tracing the career of Tobe Hooper from his college days to his first film Eggshells, the documentary focuses on the origins of the story, Hooper's influence on shaping the film, and, most enjoyably, features intimate discussions with several of the folks on set during filming. Some of the folks we hear from include Robert Burns, Kim Henkel, Allen Danziger, Robert Kuhn, etc., each of which are honest, forthcoming, and refreshingly short on bullshit. In fact, Burns, who was a wonderfully talented, plain speaking gentleman, makes no bones about the roughshod way in which he and cast were treated. Burns is perhaps the most interesting figure explored, tromping through the countryside searching for animal parts, bones, and carcasses, including the armadillo which he stuffed for the beginning shot.

A celebration of the film and the time period in which it was made, a view of the Nixon war years and censorship running through the States and Europe are also covered, as is the Gein case (including some rough, creepy footage culled from life). Various possible themes of the film are also covered, including Hooper's desire to depict the breakdown of family in the film, Henkel's unrepentant desire to simply scare the shit out of the audience, and the various actor's take on their roles and the projected failure of what they considered to be little more than a fly by night midnight movie. From investigations of the makeup on Grandpa to the various challenges of the location, from troubles with censors to nit-picks and friendship among the actors, this is the most comprehensive documentary ever created for the film. Not content to cover the original, this excellent documentary also looks at the making of the sequel, charting its hardships, troubles with Cannon, and uneven product -- which wasn't as Hooper envisioned it. We also find out along the way the trouble various studios have given the affable Hansen, refusing to pay him decently for this work. Jeff Burr weighs in about Leatherface, which, like the director himself, were treated shamefully by New Line, and Henkel's own troubled experiences helming The Return of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. On a sad note, it appears that no one but the alleged mafia connected producers of the film ever saw any true profit from the movie.

Disc two also features the wonderfully shot "Flesh Wounds: 7 Stories of the Saw." Not as exclusive and far reaching as the previous documentary, this featurette focuses on depth instead of breadth. Never trying to mimic the variety of issues discussed in "The Shocking Truth," "Flesh Wounds" instead takes a more intimate, introspective approach, serving as both a touching memorial to the film's late talents and as a no-holds-barred document of the film's influence on genre and culture at large. Certainly not as informative as the former documentary, this featurette is unique its willingness to speak more privately, one on one, with not only people instrumental in the making of the film but also fans. Structured into seven major sections, the first chapter, "Chainsaw Cameraman," is a lively discussion with Daniel Pearl, who relates his childhood interest in film, how he fell into film school, and his challenges (and mistakes) while working on Hooper's film. Part Two, entitled "This Old House," is exactly what it sounds like, exploring with Tim Harden the house used in the film as we hear insider stories involving the family that owned it and the filming process. Part Four, "In Memorium," is a touching tribute in quotes and photographs of Paul Partine, Robert Burns, and Jim Siedow. "The Good Doctor" introduced fans to the congenial man behind 'Grandpa's makeup in the original, while "Frightmares and Wastelands," the least substantial section of the documentary, interviews folks like Tom Sullivan (Evil Dead) and convention businesses who wax enthusiastic about Chainsaw. Ending with the soft spoken, intelligent Gunner Hansen, "Life After Leatherface" documents the thespian's career outside of Chainsaw, examining his writing career, some of the books he's published, and his continuing affair with low budget movie making. Deleted and alternate footage are also included, as is a tour of TCSM house with Gunnar Hansen, deleted scenes and outtakes, and a blooper reel. Outtakes from "The Shocking Truth" follow, along with a comprehensive still gallery. Quite simply, this is the ultimate version of one of the most influential horror films of the last century.

Review by William P. Simmons