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Directed by Tobe Hooper
Review by Tyler Shainline
In the annals of American horror, there is no film more respected and beloved as the original “Texas Chainsaw Massacre.” In 1974 writer/director Tobe Hooper, along with a ragtag group of southern film school graduates and eager stage actors set out to tell a story inspired by the acts of Wisconsin killer Ed Gein. Little did they know that they would be collaborating on one of the most important independent films of all time, horror or otherwise. “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre” tells the all-too-familiar story of a group of youths who become the prey for a pack of cannibalistic family members intent of adding their tender flesh to their macabre house of horrors. As a child growing up in Texas, visiting Wisconsin family members would terrify a young Hooper with tales of “Psycho” inspirer Gein’s flesh suits and parchments made of human skin. These memories would haunt Hooper throughout his life, until one hot summer in the early seventies he brought his vision to the front of America’s terrified consciousness.
Originally released to a horrified public in 1974, “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” or “TCM,” was unlike anything a seventies’ filmgoer had ever seen. At the time, most deaths that occurred on-screen were the answer to a fired gun; a cap would go off, a chest would be clutched, and a body would fall to the ground. Little terror was elicited, for outside the theater children could be seen running up and down main street firing off similar fake weapons. But none of those tots ran about toting a chainsaw and a death mask of their playmates. Hooper and collaborators Kim Henkel (co-writer), Daniel Pearl (cinematographer), and the late, great Robert Burns (Art Director) basically created the post-1975 horror film. Films having plot devices like a masked mute killer, friends and family terrorized while on vacation, a family of cannibals living in a home that resembles something out of Sedlect’s All Saints Ossuary, carpentry tools as murder weapons, and the lone female survivor escaping have been swiped by films as old as 1978’s “Halloween” to as recent as last years “Hostel.” But while thousands of filmmakers have stolen from “TCM” in the thirty-plus years since its release, few have captured the raw intensity originated and perfected by Hooper’s endearing classic.
Banned across the globe from Finland to Singapore, “TCM” tells the story of five youths, in particular Sally Hardesty and her invalid brother Franklin, and the mad and macabre events that befell them when their idyllic summer afternoon drive became a nightmare. Terrorized by a ferocious family hell-bent on feeding on their flesh, Sally has to do the hardest thing she’s ever done in her short young life…not end up on the dinner table.
With a title like “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre” and posters featuring the catch phrase, “Who will be alive and what will be left of them,” “Chainsaw” quickly got a reputation by those who had not seen it as being one of the bloodiest and most gore-filled films ever released. Even viewers of the film regaled friends with tales of stomach-turning gore and terror. This was surprising, considering “TCM” spilled less blood on screen than “The Exorcist,” “Rosemary’s Baby,” or even “Psycho.” But the filmmaking and art production on “Chainsaw” was so raw, brutal, and visceral that it made audiences think it had seen gore-filled murders when most of the blood was simply implied. In fact, if this film were to be released today, it would probably garner a PG-13 rating, if not a PG, which was the rating Hooper was originally aiming for. In a televised world of soul-destroying tragedies like the Vietnam War, 9/11, and 2003’s Micheal Bay “Chainsaw” remake, the original “TCM” can seem tame in comparison. Most audiences forced to sit though the charismatic waste that was Bay’s overproduced remake tend to find its forefather dated and boring. But when people are lining up to see mindless CGI gore-fests like “Saw 2″ or “House of Wax,” it’s not surprising that they can’t get into a film like “TCM.” After all, it’s hard to have taste when your palette’s been coated in excrement.
With its fourth release on DVD in less then eight years, distributor MPI is asking a lot of “TCM” fans. Most die-hard “Chainsaw” enthusiasts have undoubtedly shelled out the dough for the previously released “special editions,” but with their two-disc Ultimate Edition, MPI’s horror division Dark Sky Films is obviously hoping to cash in on New Line Film’s “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning” which hits theaters a few short weeks after the release of this quadruple dip by MCI and Dark Sky. But does this set offer enough “new” reasons to shell out thirty bucks, or should fans hold onto the multiple copies they already have on their shelves?
Even if all of the other special features fall flat, the amazing restoration done by the folks at Dark Sky is worth shelling out cash yet again. While some DVD releases boast restoration and remastering that generally falls short of promise, this is by far one of the most amazing jobs I’ve ever seen. Presented in 1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen, enhanced for 16×9 televisions, both the day and night scenes pop off the screen with vibrant color and clarity previously unseen. Prior releases of “Chainsaw” were still relatively grainy, while this film now looks as if it could have been shot today and creates an even more disturbing atmosphere, especially inside the family’s bone-strewn home.
This offering of “TCM” has not one, not two, but three audio tracks! While the new 5.1 and 2.0 stereo surround soundtracks are nice, it’s really the digitally remastered original mono soundtrack that is best to accompany the film. Much like the stereo releases of music by the Beach Boys, the Beatles, and the Kinks, when sound is preformed for mono, “stretching” out the sound to fill out stereo tracks often takes away from the simplistic or, in the case of “Chainsaw,” brutal intentions of the original recording.
While Dark Sky went out of their way to cram this set full of fan-friendly fare like theatrical, television, and radio trailers, multiple commentaries and documentaries, and almost a half hour’s worth of deleted scenes and outtakes, there is little here that isn’t already in most fans’ collections. Dark Sky includes the original Laserdisc commentary with Hooper, Pearl, and Gunnar Hansen (Leatherface) and a second unreleased commentary featuring actors Marylin Burns, Paul Partain, Allen Danziger, and art director Robert Burns. While previously unreleased, this commentary is still well over two years old, considering Burns died in early 2004, and its inclusion is ultimately redundant in the face of the inclusion of two feature-length documentaries clocking in at a total time of over 143 minutes. Originally released in the UK, the 2000 documentary “Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Shocking Truth” is a welcome addition to this set and is by far the best bonus feature included. While “Shocking Truth” gives the best and ultimately final world on the story behind “Chainsaw,” the recently made “Flesh Wounds: Seven Stories of the Saw” pales in comparison. Attempting to answer the handful of questions left unanswered by “Shocking Truth,” “Flesh Wounds” could have done so in less than fifteen minutes but instead forces you to sit through over seventy minutes of repetitive stories and footage. Perhaps for the eventual HD/Bluray release, somebody would be kind enough to edit these together and leave the twenty minutes of Gunnar Hansen walking around on the cutting room floor. For those of you looking to thin out you collection of past “TCM” DVDs by picking up this release, most can feel safe in selling off thir older versions, while the hard-core fans will have to hold onto their copy of the original “TCM” documentary “Texas Chainsaw Massacre: A Family Portrait” for a little while longer, as it is notably absent. But don’t worry, I’m sure it will be included in the box set Dark Sky will release when the recently announced “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” television series hits the air. If only I were joking.
While it is well know that I believe double dipping (or in this case quadruple dipping) by studios looking for a quick buck is about as low as it gets, the restoration of this print alone is worth the thirty-dollar price tag. Until somebody convinces Teri McMinn to come out of hiding or waves enough cash in Edwin Neal’s face to do a commentary, this will truly stand as “The Ultimate Edition.”
10/10 Severed Heads
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