Texas Chainsaw Massacre

The ninth instalment in the slasher franchise displays considerable ingenuity and a bloodlust of epic proportions.

Titles can be tricky, particularly when it comes to the definite article. Many a grammatically-challenged filmgoer was floored by the relationship between Suicide Squad and The Suicide Squad. The latter was a sequel to the former and unlike many a sequel was the significantly superior film. Now we have Texas Chainsaw Massacre – no definitive article – which is a sequel to The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974) and whose title has made a compound of ‘chain’ and ‘saw’, as is the fashion these days. Actually, Texas Chainsaw Massacre is the ninth instalment in the franchise and manages both to wink at and to shred the nerves of the viewer.

It’s been almost half a century since Leatherface became a part of the local folklore of Harlow, a ghost town too many miles from Austin. Leatherface (who was based on the real-life serial killer and connoisseur of body parts Ed Gein), must now be getting on a bit, yet in spite of his substantial size and impaired vision (his mask, fashioned from human skin, has never been a comfortable fit) is still surprisingly light on his feet. And like his cinematic brother Michael Myers, he remains indestructible. This time the charnel house is in the middle of town, not far from the Sage Bush movie theater and a statue of a Confederate officer on horseback. There’s even a Confederate flag attached to the outside of the house, something that might not go down well with the racially mixed passengers on a bus due to arrive at any moment.

Our protagonists are the enterprising Dante (Jacob Latimore, who is himself black), his blonde girlfriend Ruth (Nell Hudson) and the sisters Mel (Sarah Yarkin) and Lila (Elsie Fisher). They are a friendly, breezy bunch, although Lila is on the quiet side having recently survived a school shooting and adopted a deep-seated aversion to firearms. Stopping for gas, they encounter two things that elevate their hackles: first, the shop is selling Leatherface memorabilia and second, a boorish redneck appears none too pleased by the visit of “smug, self-righteous city folk.” Not long afterwards, they are stopped by the local sheriff whose welcome to the neighbourhood could not be more ambivalent. But then, hey, you know Texas.

What follows is unfortunate as the house that the quartet has purchased – as part of a gentrification scheme – appears still to be occupied by an old crone who doesn’t look anything like Alice Krige (Alice Krige). A man in her care, whose face we never clearly see, shows a doting attachment to the old woman, whose accidental death sends him off the deep end. What follows is efficiently orchestrated and plays with the viewer’s emotions like a cat with a mouse. This is intense, exceedingly gory stuff.

Unlike the original film, which exhibited no sense of humour at all, Chain Saw Massacre is game for a laugh while emphasising how far prosthetics have come since 1974. The first murder is one of the most inspired this critic has seen, in which a cop has his throat slashed open with the jagged ends of his own shattered forearm. And that’s just for starters. It’s amazing what a sledgehammer and some will power can do to the human face. And then there’s a chainsaw… This is not for the faint-hearted and there is a good degree of suspense, too, as each scene is played out for maximum effect. There are a few clichés, not to mention some improbabilities, but the pace is never allowed to flag and Sarah Yarkin makes for an engaging lead. Slasher fans are unlikely to be disappointed.

JAMES CAMERON-WILSON

Cast: Sarah Yarkin, Elsie Fisher, Mark Burnham, Moe Dunford, Nell Hudson, Jessica Allain, Olwen Fouéré, Jacob Latimore, Alice Krige, William Hope, Jolyon Coy, Sam Douglas, and the voice of John Larroquette. 

Dir David Blue Garcia, Pro Fede Álvarez, Herbert W. Gains, Kim Henkel, Ian Henkel and Pat Cassidy, Screenplay Chris Thomas Devlin, from a story by Fede Álvarez and Rodo Sayagues, Ph Ricardo Diaz, Pro Des Michael Perry, Ed Christopher S. Capp, Music Colin Stetson, Costumes Olga Mekikchieva, Sound P.K. Hooker, Dialect coaches Joy Ellison and Raymond Steeers. 

Legendary Pictures/Exurbia Films/Bad Hombre-Netflix.
82 mins. USA. 2021. UK and US Rel: 18 February 2022. Cert. 18.