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The first time I saw "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre" (1974) was at the Scala in 1993,
along with "Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer". At the time, I thought
it was pretty good, but I never realised just how fucking brilliant it
was until I borrowed Holly Cock's pirate copy!
What makes it such a classic, I think, is that it happens to be genuinely horrific - an accolade, it has to be said, which very few "horror" movies truly deserve. But what is it that makes "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" such a deeply disturbing experience? This is by no means an easy question to answer; but having given it a lot of thought over the past fifteen years, I think I can give it a shot.
First, it's an incredibly simple story - no diversions, no subplots. A group of "kids" drive out to a derelict house out in the middle of nowhere; where, one by one, they are killed by "Leatherface", the retarded son of the inbred psychotic family who live there. The surviving girl (Sally Hardesty) is chased, caught and subjected to a barrage of abuse, both physical and psychological; then, having broken free, she is chased once more before making her escape by hitching a lift on the back of an open-top truck. That's pretty much the story; and such extreme simplicity is, I think, a good part of why it's so horrific - there's no digression whatsoever - and so a tremendous feeling of intensity is created.
Secondly, the sense of horror so prevalent in TCM is very much due to its plausibility; a strange quality, you may think, to ascribe to a film in which a bunch of hippy kids are sliced to pieces by a maniac wearing a mask made out of human skin. But everything which takes place in the film is not only possible; it is not even particularly improbable. Of course, being chopped to bits by a slasher maniac is not something which happens every day. Nevertheless, TCM is plausible in this respect, all well as all others, psychological as well as physical. In particular, the psychological background of Leatherface's family is treated with great care, with the progression from intelligent and humane to retarded and psychotic made clear in the family lineage. A lineage which runs from Leatherface's 120-year-old grandfather (a slaughterhouse worker who has lost the ability to distinguish between humans and animals) to his son,"The Cook" (who presents a face of normality to the rest of the world, does distinguish between humans and animals and has no problem with slaughtering either, yet "could never get into the way of killing") to his grandson, Leatherface, who is totally retarded and spends the film merrily carving his way through the cast list of victims. Such attention to detail results in a chain of events that, though utterly bizarre is completely credible and all the more appalling as a result.
TCM is remarkable, too, for its atmosphere of fatalism; a fatalism that adds to the overall sense of horror. Again, the murderous, sociopathic family are presented to us in such a way that it seems inevitable they should include offspring such as Leatherface and The Hitchhiker, even if it took them three generations to do so. And it is made painfully clear, from very early on in, that Sally Hardesty, her invalid brother Franklin, and their friends Jerry, Kirk and Pam are doomed to a bloody fate; this despite Leatherface's father ("The Cook") telling them to their face that "you boys don't wanna go messing around at that old house. Some folks don't like it; and they don't mind showing you." To which Franklin innocently replies "Oh, my father owns it."
At this point, I feel I should give a special mention to the place of humour within the film - intentional humour, that is. Much of it (the overheard radio news bulletins, which depict a world of widespread natural disasters and individual acts of cruelty and barbarism; the horoscopes which Pam reads out - "there are moments when we cannot believe that what is happening is really true. Pinch yourself and you may find out that it is") serves to reinforce the sense of fatalism outlined above. We are also treated to the antics of the retarded windscreen washer at the gas station where the kids stop off for gas; to recurring discussions on how headcheese is made; and, of course, to Franklin's naive preoccupation with the Hitchhiker and his shocking behaviour ("do you think I said something to upset him?"). All of which provides a powerful contrast to the main events, in the process intensifying the sense of horror. A horror all the more impressive when one considers the fact that the film is almost totally bloodless, choosing instead to achieve its effects by means of clever editing, suggestive camera angles and above all, a first-class script.
However, in the end, it is the subject itself that makes TCM such a deeply disturbing experience. For the very idea of the nuclear family gone wrong, transformed within the space of a few generations into snarling, grunting, murderous savages - savages who yet retain the last vestiges of humanity - strikes at the very core of our deepest and most cherished beliefs regarding society, the family and human nature. (An idea especially disturbing to American audiences, since this attack is placed within the context of that great American nightmare - the murdering inbred family.) And it hardly needs saying that such a family is all the more disturbing for being contrasted with the ordinary, normal human beings who cross its path. This is why "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre" succeeds so well in its efforts to disturb and shock its audience. For in the last analysis, the film is a vivid portrayal of a potential and terrible anomaly in the human evolutionary process along with its horrifying consequences.
What makes it such a classic, I think, is that it happens to be genuinely horrific - an accolade, it has to be said, which very few "horror" movies truly deserve. But what is it that makes "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" such a deeply disturbing experience? This is by no means an easy question to answer; but having given it a lot of thought over the past fifteen years, I think I can give it a shot.
First, it's an incredibly simple story - no diversions, no subplots. A group of "kids" drive out to a derelict house out in the middle of nowhere; where, one by one, they are killed by "Leatherface", the retarded son of the inbred psychotic family who live there. The surviving girl (Sally Hardesty) is chased, caught and subjected to a barrage of abuse, both physical and psychological; then, having broken free, she is chased once more before making her escape by hitching a lift on the back of an open-top truck. That's pretty much the story; and such extreme simplicity is, I think, a good part of why it's so horrific - there's no digression whatsoever - and so a tremendous feeling of intensity is created.
Secondly, the sense of horror so prevalent in TCM is very much due to its plausibility; a strange quality, you may think, to ascribe to a film in which a bunch of hippy kids are sliced to pieces by a maniac wearing a mask made out of human skin. But everything which takes place in the film is not only possible; it is not even particularly improbable. Of course, being chopped to bits by a slasher maniac is not something which happens every day. Nevertheless, TCM is plausible in this respect, all well as all others, psychological as well as physical. In particular, the psychological background of Leatherface's family is treated with great care, with the progression from intelligent and humane to retarded and psychotic made clear in the family lineage. A lineage which runs from Leatherface's 120-year-old grandfather (a slaughterhouse worker who has lost the ability to distinguish between humans and animals) to his son,"The Cook" (who presents a face of normality to the rest of the world, does distinguish between humans and animals and has no problem with slaughtering either, yet "could never get into the way of killing") to his grandson, Leatherface, who is totally retarded and spends the film merrily carving his way through the cast list of victims. Such attention to detail results in a chain of events that, though utterly bizarre is completely credible and all the more appalling as a result.
TCM is remarkable, too, for its atmosphere of fatalism; a fatalism that adds to the overall sense of horror. Again, the murderous, sociopathic family are presented to us in such a way that it seems inevitable they should include offspring such as Leatherface and The Hitchhiker, even if it took them three generations to do so. And it is made painfully clear, from very early on in, that Sally Hardesty, her invalid brother Franklin, and their friends Jerry, Kirk and Pam are doomed to a bloody fate; this despite Leatherface's father ("The Cook") telling them to their face that "you boys don't wanna go messing around at that old house. Some folks don't like it; and they don't mind showing you." To which Franklin innocently replies "Oh, my father owns it."
At this point, I feel I should give a special mention to the place of humour within the film - intentional humour, that is. Much of it (the overheard radio news bulletins, which depict a world of widespread natural disasters and individual acts of cruelty and barbarism; the horoscopes which Pam reads out - "there are moments when we cannot believe that what is happening is really true. Pinch yourself and you may find out that it is") serves to reinforce the sense of fatalism outlined above. We are also treated to the antics of the retarded windscreen washer at the gas station where the kids stop off for gas; to recurring discussions on how headcheese is made; and, of course, to Franklin's naive preoccupation with the Hitchhiker and his shocking behaviour ("do you think I said something to upset him?"). All of which provides a powerful contrast to the main events, in the process intensifying the sense of horror. A horror all the more impressive when one considers the fact that the film is almost totally bloodless, choosing instead to achieve its effects by means of clever editing, suggestive camera angles and above all, a first-class script.
However, in the end, it is the subject itself that makes TCM such a deeply disturbing experience. For the very idea of the nuclear family gone wrong, transformed within the space of a few generations into snarling, grunting, murderous savages - savages who yet retain the last vestiges of humanity - strikes at the very core of our deepest and most cherished beliefs regarding society, the family and human nature. (An idea especially disturbing to American audiences, since this attack is placed within the context of that great American nightmare - the murdering inbred family.) And it hardly needs saying that such a family is all the more disturbing for being contrasted with the ordinary, normal human beings who cross its path. This is why "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre" succeeds so well in its efforts to disturb and shock its audience. For in the last analysis, the film is a vivid portrayal of a potential and terrible anomaly in the human evolutionary process along with its horrifying consequences.
To
give you a little taster of what this greatest of horror movies is
like, here's a disturbingly funny scene from TCM; in which
Sally, Franklin and co. encounter the Hitchhiker... As he himself says,
"my family's always been in meat!" Damn right...