Starring: Marilyn Burns, Paul A. Partain, Gunnar Hansen

Director: Tobe Hooper

Synopsis: After hearing reports of grave vandalism, Sally Hardesty, her disabled brother, Franklin and a group of friends travel to the site to make sure their grandfather’s grave is intact. This journey across Texas results in them being picked off one by one by a cannibal with a chainsaw.

We’ve all seen it in horror films, a group of young adults go away and find themselves face to face with a cannibal killer. It’s very much a cliché nowadays, but it wasn’t in 1974. The Texas Chain Saw Massacre is one of the main pioneers of this now commonplace aspect of the horror genre, so much so that Tobe Hooper was able to attracts audiences in claiming these events were real. Of course, there was some inspiration taken from the Ed Gein killing spree that took place between 1947 and 1952, but the masterclass of horror writing over the course of these eighty-three minutes ensures the viewer finishes this film believing, had these events been true, that John Larroquette’s introductory statement of this being “one of the most bizarre crimes in the annals of American history” is spot on.

It surprisingly takes a while for The Texas Chain Saw Massacre to reach the harrowing levels that sets it apart from the rest. The first thirty to forty-five minutes of Hooper’s third film focuses on making the viewer uneasy while teasing what’s to come. This is a graphic film that helped define many elements of the slasher genre, but it also thrives on sickening the viewer with unpleasant sights. Immediately we’re shown close-up photos of a rotten corpse, a decaying skeleton with an eerie yellow skyline in the background, and a dead armadillo. Later on we’re shown footage of cattle standing awaiting their deaths. Hooper loves his animal imagery and uses it to great effect throughout.

When we’re first introduced to our five characters, Sally (Marilyn Burns) isn’t the focus, that would be Franklin, who is quite simply having a bad day that gets a lot worse. After all, his horoscope does read “an unpredictable and disturbing day” is ahead. The group are made to feel uneasy themselves when they smell what’s coming from a nearby slaughterhouse, but Franklin takes great pleasure in telling everyone about what they did to the cattle: “Bash ’em in the head with a sledgehammer.” It’s really a throwaway line when you watch for the first time, but takes on a whole new meaning when you hear it in future viewings.

The atmosphere becomes even more uncomfortable for our protagonists when they decide to pick up a hitchhiker (Edwin Neal), who is incredibly zany and eager to talk about how his family worked at the slaughterhouse. “They’ve always been in meat.” What I love most about this scene is the shock of the five of them when this hitchhiker takes Franklin’s knife and pierces his own palm open with it. This nauseating sight, that as the film progresses becomes one of the tamest moments of the film, is perfectly included by Hooper to emphasise what happens later.

Quickly disposing of the hitchhiker after an assault on Franklin, the five arrive at a petrol station where the local proprietor (Jim Siedow) sternly warns them to not go snooping around people’s homes and offers them some BBQ, which Jerry (Allen Danziger) takes him up on. There’s a “We Slaughter” sign in the far left hand corner that you’re not expected to take notice of, or even see for that matter, but it might be worth keeping in mind once you spot it.

In their camper van, they come to an old decrepit house owned, but not used, by Sally and Franklin’s dad. Sally, Jerry, Kirk (William Vail) and Pam (Terri McMinn) take a walk upstairs while Franklin, sucking on a BBQ sausage, inspects the symbol that the hitchhiker painted onto their van in his own blood. When Kirk and Pam leave to find the local swimming hole, it’s here we’re able to understand how good Hooper’s camera work is. We get a glimpse in the graveyard earlier, but now it’s made apparent that he’s keeping us relatively distant from the characters, filming them from behind objects such as tombstones, bushes, flowers and weeds. Hooper makes full use of the farm scenery and it’s fitting that we see Kirk and Pam walk past a plethora of sunflowers as their beauty and symbolising of longevity only puts the viewer into a false sense of security. He continues to trick the viewer when showing us the outside of this farmhouse painted in a lovely coat of white, with lively trees beside that add to the summertime feel, and a swing-set, which Hooper decides to move the camera to film from under. I’m not saying it’s the best camera shot in film history, but it’s definitely up there.

As Kirk and Pam sit on the doorstep, there’s one minor sign that this place mightn’t be for them as Kirk hands her a tiny piece of bone. Hooper’s slow zoom in with no music playing is magnificent, as this along with Pam’s cry of disgust makes the scene all the more tense. While the scenery is nice outside on this sunny summer afternoon, this is far from the case inside, where the wallpaper is torn, the hallway is dark and the sounds of squealing can be heard. Hooper once again nails it with three slow zooms to showcase the bones placed on the wall. His decision to not use music once again is amazing as we’ve yet to see any real danger so far, so there being no music to warn us of it prolongs the tension as we’re introduced to Leatherface (Gunnar Hansen). And then, “Bash ’em in the head with a sledgehammer.“

Now we’ve seen the danger, the film escalates massively and it’s staggering how quickly this happens once Pam enters the house and, not too long later, Jerry leaves Sally and Franklin to go searching for their missing friends. In this instance, it genuinely is night and day, because this film gets crazier once the night comes. Hooper really utilises the dark, using only so much light – the light of a torch – to let us see Sally and Franklin, and it’s this decision to film in the pitch black dark that makes the chase scene that much more intense. The next several scenes give us a few twists and a resolution for the hitchhiker and what that BBQ was (so that means Franklin was sucking on a…?!). Marilyn Burns is outstandingly convincing in her terror for the next twenty minutes and really gets us sympathising with her – Hooper’s unique use of camera close-ups to her bloodshot eyes and screaming mouth also help a lot.

It’s interesting because we’re not really given a reason, or much of an opportunity, to sympathise with any of the characters other than Sally – I’d say we can sympathise with Franklin as his disability does make him something of an outsider to the rest of the group, but he’s such an irritating character, albeit comical in his mannerisms. These protagonists are mainly here to highlight the impact of how brutal and dangerous Leatherface and his family are, and a lot of that brutality we don’t get to see and at times is simply implied through the sea of bones and the close up of cooking BBQ. Hooper is smart in terms of making this film graphic, as he uses blood when necessary, not for the sake of it. He never intended for the killings and the blood to be all of what scares the viewer because the viewer’s heart will race courtesy of the incredible camera work, the use of scenery and the way in which he combines music with pure silence and the sounds of crickets chirping. As I said earlier in this review, Hooper was a pioneer, and a majority of what you see here is the reason you’ve seen it a hundred times in films since.

If you’ve never seen The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, do yourself a favour and watch it. If you’ve seen it a thousand times, treat yourself and watch it again.

Rating: 5/5

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