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The Texas
Chainsaw Massacre
The beginning
of a review is as good a time as any to confess a shameful
secret: I've never seen Tobe Hooper's The Texas Chainsaw
Massacre. And certainly, after watching video director
Marcus Nispel's remake, I still haven't. Long carrying the
reputation of one of the scariest films ever, Hooper's tale
of a cannibalistic family has a firm hold on the public's
imagination. Though extremely loosely based on a true story
(or three, perhaps), Leatherface and his clan have a life
of their own.
So why
remake something reputed to be so perfect already?
Hooper
himself has shrugged it off as just the nature of the business.
And although ultimately uncredited as screenwriter, he and
original writing partner Kim Henkel did make a pass at updating
their seminal work for modern audiences. However, Nispel and
executive producer Michael Bay wanted to keep it in its original
time, perhaps in an effort to pay tribute to its humble and
effective beginnings.
But along
with screenwriter Scott Kosar, the team has ended up with
something that owes as much to everything that came after
that low-budget classic. Thankfully, because they also decided
to play it without a sense of irony, the Frankenstein monster
that is the new Texas Chainsaw Massacre can stand on
its own.
It's
alive, but the seams are showing.
Still
narrated by a stentorian John Laroquette, the film poses as
pseudo-documentary. The conceit disappears about five minutes
into the story, leaving a faint aftertaste of The Blair
Witch Project. (One of the two young nubiles, Erica Leerhsen,
starred in that film's sequel, The Book of Shadows.)
From
there it's pretty standard stuff, with five young adults of
varying likability quickly establishing themselves for the
pleasure of your wagering on their life expectancy. On the
way to Dallas to see a Lynyrd Skynyrd concert (and that's
no doubt a dark vague pun considering their fates), they pick
up a young woman wandering on the road. If they didn't know
they were on the road to Hell, this passenger pretty much
points it out.
Nispel
takes his time developing the characters, doing a good job
of building the suspense. Unlike a lot of former video directors,
including his mentor Bay, he seems to have a sense of story
that overrides his desire to achieve cool shots at all costs.
Not that
he doesn't get arty on us. He may not be the first to use
the "head wound cam," (it seemed vaguely familiar) but it
sure works here. In some shots, the lighting composition gives
things a dreamy state, especially a couple of cool views of
Leatherface's (Andrew Bryniarski) family mansion.
The only
time the artiness overpowers the story is in a strange crucifixion
sequence. Heroine Erin (Jessica Biehl) tries to save one of
her friends from the horrors of Leatherface's basement (here,
by the way, he's known as Thomas Hewitt). It begins with him
spread as if on a cross, and ends with her bathed in his blood
sobbing for forgiveness. As metaphor it fails, and otherwise
just putting the bit in for its own sake seems out of place.
When
Nispel allows for subtlety, though, he pulls it off quite
well. If you watch closely, there is more than one moment
when the director's desire to quietly show the lost potential
of these kids shines.
So he
can tell the story without resorting to bells and whistles.
The script still relies very heavily on a lot of modern turns.
Though the rest of the Hewitt family seems sort of hazy in
characterization and purpose, Thomas himself has become a
monster in line with giants of the field like Michael Meyers
and Jason, all the better to do clever, supernatural-like
things. For a guy who lumbers with a chainsaw, he sure manages
to sneak around a lot.
The man
they would call Leatherface also has motivation, another sure
annoying modern touch. You see, he has a skin condition, and
the taunts of the children have driven him to be a killer.
He may still be a cannibal, but this version downplays that
element in favor of inbred decay.
To laud
Bryniarski for his portrayal seems moot. He hulks extremely
well. But for whatever reason (and Freddy
vs. Jason suffered this, too), the modern Leatherface
looks more like Rubberface, thus lessening his visual impact
somehow.
If anything,
seeing this sharpened my interest in finally catching the
original. It works, but in some places way too hard. By reputation,
Hooper's version understood that less is more, and not just
out of necessity. It came from a time when sequels weren't
automatically planned, and tacking the possibility on in this
new version seems almost insulting.
Don't
be surprised if we soon hear of a Freddy Vs. Jason Vs.
Leatherface. But also don't be surprised if it turns out
to be only mildly entertaining.
Rating:
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