The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974) ****1/2
The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974) is lightning in a bottle. It's one of a handful of horror films worthy of hyperbole. It's required viewing for any horror hound. It's the ultimate grindhouse film. It's one of my Top 100 Films (Letterboxd version of that list here) and one of my Top 10 Horror Films. Tobe Hooper was never able to capture that lightning in a bottle again. He came close with his over the top 1986 sequel The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 (review)—a much less highly regarded film but one I love as equally as the original—but for totally different reasons.
TCM is a messy, imperfect film. Some of the scenes drag on too long, the action ebbs and flows in weird patterns, and it's quite repetitive at times. The first time you see it, it's hard to decide if the filmmakers are deranged geniuses or flying by the seat of their pants. But it works either way because it builds and builds to that show-stopping dinner scene and then it's all been worth it. Marilyn Burns' unhinged performance is a textbook example of a character losing their mind with fear. And let's not forget those surrealist beats—where the sound drops out and you feel like you're in another world, you feel the tension, you can't move, but you want to get the hell out of there. Or where the camera and the editing is going crazy (those extreme closeups of Sally's eye!), the maniacs are mocking you, and you're going mad.
An unparalleled classic in the genre, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre survives because nothing like it had been made before and everything since has been imitation—it's influenced countless films, but nothing tops the original. There is just something about the amateur actors (most of whom debuted in this film and many of whom only starred in a handful of additional films) combined with the low budget quality, the unsettling production and sound design, that scorching heat, that darkest of nights, the impressive camera angles/movement, and the simultaneously genuinely terrifying yet uncomfortably funny moments that make this Massacre so memorable.
TCM is a messy, imperfect film. Some of the scenes drag on too long, the action ebbs and flows in weird patterns, and it's quite repetitive at times. The first time you see it, it's hard to decide if the filmmakers are deranged geniuses or flying by the seat of their pants. But it works either way because it builds and builds to that show-stopping dinner scene and then it's all been worth it. Marilyn Burns' unhinged performance is a textbook example of a character losing their mind with fear. And let's not forget those surrealist beats—where the sound drops out and you feel like you're in another world, you feel the tension, you can't move, but you want to get the hell out of there. Or where the camera and the editing is going crazy (those extreme closeups of Sally's eye!), the maniacs are mocking you, and you're going mad.
An unparalleled classic in the genre, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre survives because nothing like it had been made before and everything since has been imitation—it's influenced countless films, but nothing tops the original. There is just something about the amateur actors (most of whom debuted in this film and many of whom only starred in a handful of additional films) combined with the low budget quality, the unsettling production and sound design, that scorching heat, that darkest of nights, the impressive camera angles/movement, and the simultaneously genuinely terrifying yet uncomfortably funny moments that make this Massacre so memorable.
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