The Texas Chain Saw Massacre

I first saw this in the late 80s on a vhs n found it to be very very disturbing.

Revisited it recently on a dvd which I own.

This film is very terrifying n intense.

What a terrific achievement inspite of the tiny budget.

It has amazing direction n top not cinematography. The dreadful, creepy n isolated atmosphere added more intensity.

The opening statement and the way it is handled, all gav this movie a documentary feel n made it more terrifying.

The whole film has this dark n isolated look but the best part is nothing is shot in dim light or shaky cam or with flickering lights stuff.

Screaming from Marilyn Burns got on my nerves at times. Her constant jumping from the windows n repeated screaming n the trauma she goes thru made the movie more emotionally scary.

Some may find the dinner scene to b the most iconic n terrifying coz it gives the entire idea but i found the scene wher Leatherface keeps chasing the victim with a chainsaw to be pure nightmare n pure terrifying n intense stuff.

Also the scene wher Leatherface maniacally dances with his chainsaw is downright creepy.

The first kill is the most brutal n shocking. Ther is no gore or violence portrayed but jus the impact of the scene is brutal. The swing of the hammer and the way the victim falls to the ground and starts shaking, is just plain brutal n unbearable to watch.

Those who have posted here comparing Tobe Hooper's (one and only) masterpiece with the dreadful remake are presumably young children with no real understanding of cinema. The 1974 film is the antithesis of the slick, MTV-influenced, cynical cash-in mentality that informed the later remake. The fact that the remake's target teen audience (well, at least some of them) appeared to lap it up is just a sad reflection of how far standards have fallen since the heyday of the horror film in the 70's.

But Hooper's CHAINSAW is more than just a classic horror film. With its print in the permanent collection at the NY Museum of Modern Art, it truly is a classic of cinema. I've shown this to Bergman fans, Tarkovsky fans and, yes, horror fans too - none of them have been prepared for its power, its inventiveness, its willingness to push the envelope of what cinema can do. And, with its simple story and powerhouse, unstoppable delivery, it is as open to interpretation as any piece of "modern art" - whether it be from the "vegetarian treatise" angle, or the post-Vietnam traumatised America school of thought. But, as I was on my first (of several) viewings, those I have introduced to this movie have been bowled over by the quality of the film-making, and the filmic techniques (soundtrack, editing, startling images) used by Hooper to capture his "waking nightmare" on screen. It is something I really don't think any other film has quite achieved, though many have tried.

Now, of course, there is a fluke element at work here. Hooper never came close to achieving anything like this again, and many, though not all, of the film's fascinating resonances are a product of the era and the filmmaker's unconscious sensibilities. What he obviously had as a director was the kind of daring to take the visceral power that cinema can deliver so well to the limit, to the the edge of acceptability, skirting on exploitation. That the film is so unrelentingly dark and so unbelievably sadistic in its second half, and yet fascinates even as it traumatises, is a definite testimony to the skill of its director. What could have been sleaze is instead a horrible nightmare experience, sure enough, but one that borders on the transcendental. Should be seen by ALL students of cinema at least once in their lifetime.

With the recent box-office success achieved by the latest remake of 1974's `The Texas Chainsaw Massacre,' it's worth looking back at Tobe Hooper's original horror classic.

The movie tells a fairly simple tale at heart. A group of five teenagers driving through rural Texas happen upon a deranged, cannibalistic family. Psychological terror and chainsaws ensue.

Yet despite this simplicity, what is it about `The Texas Chainsaw Massacre' that continues to succeed so with its audience? Outside of one memorial scene involving a meet hook; the movie is not particularly gory by today's standards. The film's characters and actual scares are not that remarkable.

The power of `The Texas Chainsaw Massacre' lies in its atmosphere and in what H.P. Lovecraft called `the oldest and strongest kind of fear': the fear of the unknown. The later of these two staples of great horror is often cast aside in modern horror movies-especially in those churned out by the great Hollywood engine. Instead, every mystery must be explained away, every mask ultimately pulled from a monster's face, and not a moment of exposition is spared. It is interesting to note that the filmmakers behind the latest `Chainsaw' film chose to implement all three of these stylistic vices in their remake.

In the original, the feeling of dread and mounting paranoia creeps over the viewer in slow but steady waves. The first scene in the film depicts a desecrated grave with a voiceover of radio newscast, immediately followed by an opening credits sequence set against a backdrop of roaring solar flares. This, along with some idle astrological chatter on the part of one of the teenagers early on, leads to a feeling of cosmic disarray in the lonely Texas hills they traverse.

Questions about the villain's mask or the field of cars under camouflage netting are left for the viewer to answer on his or her own. At worst, in the loss of any acceptable answer, they are forced to ponder that terrible and limitless gulf of the imagination: the unknown.

In it's later stages, the film becomes a cacophonous world of throat-peeling screaming, blood-shot eyes, laughter, and grinding machinery. One is forced to recall the solar flares in the film's opening credits. In the climax of famous dinner scene, there is a feeling of cosmic forces pressing in on reality and warping it into some crude mockery of order, as if the world were but a TV or radio signal distorted into madness by flares on the surface of the sun.

In the 29 years since `The Texas chainsaw Massacre' hit theaters, there have been countless imitators and four additional films in the franchise, three of them remakes. Yet as loved and influential as the original classic has been, many who would seek to emulate its vision seem to overlook its true strengths.

The (original) Texas Chainsaw Massacre, is without a doubt in my mind, the most impressive horror film to date. No other horror film stays with you in the same way. You feel not only fearful for the characters, but at times feel afraid for your own safety. The natural lighting and loose, improvised acting style creates a strong sense of reality that no other horror film can possibly achieve. Under a thin layer of dated aesthetics (1973 style of dress) lies the most dangerous, horrifying and psychotic world ever committed to script or screen. As the first of its kind, this movie set the mold for the modern horror film, though none were ever to realize any comparable distinction. It gave birth to the "slasher" genre (for better or for worse) . It is also one of few timeless films that has managed to combine horror and avant-garde styles, successfully. Unlike its remake, this one is more of an exercise in minimalism and simplicity (think even Dogme). The expert subtlety of the filmmakers; Tobe Hooper (writer/director), Kim Henkel (co-writer) and Daniel Pearl (cinematographer) results more in

psychological terror than in gore. The air-tight script, jarring realism and attention to detail are unparalleled in practically any film, horror or otherwise. And last, but by far not the least Marylin Burns PHENOMENAL performance is the only in cinematic history (a close second by that of Shelly Duvall in The Shining) that evokes such a nature of desperate and primal fear. You truly believe in every single one of her screams that her life is hanging by a single, thin thread.

I hated this film.

I still fail to see how it, along with F13, managed to acquire a cult following. TCM is critically acclaimed for its rawness, for its brutality, and for unrelenting portrayal of a warped family based on everyone's favorite psycho Ed Gein. And granted, it has perks and high points . . . but good God, did it ever annoy the hell out of me!

Maybe I'm just sick and twisted and desensitized by violence in the entertainment mediums, but I don't sympathize with the victims solely because they're about to be slaughtered in a 16mm slasher film. The TCM family of films was the first to show me this. I did not like the characters. Although, the characters in TCM did teach me a small lesson – I learned that even if I feel sympathy for someone who is physically disabled, that person can be so annoying that I'd ignore those feelings and want to see him crippled further (specifically, something to permanently incapacitate the jaw.)

"I'll cut you some slack, Franky, given the circumstance. But if you deserve a punch to the face, I don't care if you are in a wheelchair, you will get punched to the face."

Texas Chainsaw Massacre also taught me why other movies ignore the realism of having their characters not scream when they should. Sally, sweet Sally, what powerful lungs you have . . . she screams. And screams. And continues screaming. And I wanted more than anything for Leatherface to shut her up. For the love of God, end the scream before it goes on for another 30 minutes. Gramps? Please, maybe you can shut her up! Someone! Is there a competent killer in the house?

I hesitate to say Texas Chainsaw Massacre has a plot, just as I hesitate to say any slasher film has a plot. A "scenario" would be a better phrasing. It's a bit unnerving how vividly and accurately three words can describe the typical slasher scenario: "Kids. Isolated. Killer." If you need more than that, you've never seen a slasher film. If you expect more than that, you've never seen a slasher film. So I really can't criticize TCM for having any less of a plot than, say, Halloween. I *can* say the unsympathetic characters in TCM made me care that the scenario they were to enact was so threadbare.

Leatherface running around in an apron that eerily resembles a dress struck fear in me for all the wrong reasons, and I really did not need to see the cut scene on the DVD where he puts makeup and the Grandma's wig on the mask. Leatherface running through the woods with the chainsaw over his head while Sally screamed and screamed and ran, and went on way too long (much like the action films that would come 30 years later) – all of went to prove that without a doorway to pop out of, Leatherface is a pansy who can't shut up one girl.

Anyway, contrary to what I had written in my original review I did revisit Texas Chainsaw Massacre with hopes that perhaps I had let expectation get in the way of seeing the movie for what it was. Also contrary to what I wrote in the original reviews, I did check out all the sequels and even the remake. While my opinion has come away from the extreme hatred I initially held for the film, it didn't come away by very much. I still more or less feel the same way: it has some nice camera work early on in the film, wonderful colors in the dusk sky, and a sweet camera move as it glides under a swing. I'm still impressed that the movie for the most part refrains from dragging out its "stalking" sequences with false scares, and that Tobe gets some kills over and done with before the audience can blink. The music has never stuck with me, nor has much else.

Revisiting Texas Chainsaw Massacre, I still did not like characters, although I did find myself tolerating them a lot more. And actually, early on in the film I thought perhaps my opinion might – just might – have changed in the years since my last viewing. Alas, that glimmer of hope slowly faded until the bottom dropped out entirely at the sound of Sally's screams. Sally, sweet Sally, shut up already.

Oh well, looks like I'm going to continue to walk a part from the bandwagon on this one. I still feel that Texas Chainsaw Massacre is living breathing proof that shock-fest exploitation films lose their power to truly and rightly be considered classics. TCM shocked the generation who grew up on it, but I come from a different time where all of TCM's descendants have robbed it of what power it might have held – that first glimpse of 16mm terror that no one had ever seen before. Now it's just the first in a long monotonous line.

In closing: There's a difference between shocks and suspense, the latter gives a film its staying power. I still hold my breath watching Psycho. I still feel a rush of anxiety hearing Benny cue up his infamous strings, and I still feel a chill run down my spine as the camera pushes in on Norman Bates. Texas Chainsaw Massacre, by contrast, has no more shocks, thus has no power over me.