- Published on
site update
So many movies ... so little time ...
On this day in 1983 (in Spain), the mighty Hundra took her Fantasy business to the silver screen. Written (in part) and directed by Matt Cimber, the film starred Laurene Landon, Maria Casal, Luis Lorenzo, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"Born in a tribe of fierce warrior women, the archer and sword fighter, Hundra, has been raised to despise the influence of men. Superior to any male, Hundra takes a vow of revenge until one day she finds love."
-- EZ
On this day in 1983 (in Spain), the mighty Hundra took her Fantasy business to the silver screen. Written (in part) and directed by Matt Cimber, the film starred Laurene Landon, Maria Casal, Luis Lorenzo, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"Born in a tribe of fierce warrior women, the archer and sword fighter, Hundra, has been raised to despise the influence of men. Superior to any male, Hundra takes a vow of revenge until one day she finds love."
-- EZ
- Published on
site update
So many movies ... so little time ...
On this day in 1973 (in the U.S.), Tales That Witness Madness sent audiences on a journey through ... well ... the tales that witness madness, I guess. Directed by Freddie Francis from a story by Jennifer Jayne, the film starred Jack Hawkins, Donald Pleasence, Joan Collins, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"A psychiatrist tells stories of four special cases to a colleague."
For the record:
At the 1975 Saturn Awards, Tales That Witness Madness received a nomination in the category of 'Best Horror Film.'
-- EZ
On this day in 1973 (in the U.S.), Tales That Witness Madness sent audiences on a journey through ... well ... the tales that witness madness, I guess. Directed by Freddie Francis from a story by Jennifer Jayne, the film starred Jack Hawkins, Donald Pleasence, Joan Collins, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"A psychiatrist tells stories of four special cases to a colleague."
For the record:
At the 1975 Saturn Awards, Tales That Witness Madness received a nomination in the category of 'Best Horror Film.'
-- EZ
- Published on
site update
So many movies ... so little time ...
On this day in 1972 (in Italy), The Case Of The Bloody Iris was first opened for theatrical consumption. Directed by Giuliani Carnimeo from a story by Ernesto Galstaldi, the film starred Edwige Fenech, George Hilton, Paolo Quattrini, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"Having recently escaped the clutches of her ex-husband's sex cult, a beautiful model is stalked by a masked killer whose previous victims include the former occupants of her new apartment."
-- EZ
On this day in 1972 (in Italy), The Case Of The Bloody Iris was first opened for theatrical consumption. Directed by Giuliani Carnimeo from a story by Ernesto Galstaldi, the film starred Edwige Fenech, George Hilton, Paolo Quattrini, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"Having recently escaped the clutches of her ex-husband's sex cult, a beautiful model is stalked by a masked killer whose previous victims include the former occupants of her new apartment."
-- EZ
- Published on
site update
So many movies ... so little time ...
On this day in 1975 (in Italy), audiences couldn't look away from the theatrical premiere of Eyeball. Written (in part) and directed by Umberto Lenzi, the film starred Martine Brochard, John Richardson, Ines Pellegrini, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"A maniac killer in a red cape and hood is killing off American tourists on a tour bus by gouging out their eyeballs."
-- EZ
On this day in 1975 (in Italy), audiences couldn't look away from the theatrical premiere of Eyeball. Written (in part) and directed by Umberto Lenzi, the film starred Martine Brochard, John Richardson, Ines Pellegrini, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"A maniac killer in a red cape and hood is killing off American tourists on a tour bus by gouging out their eyeballs."
-- EZ
- Published on
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Before being sent to serve in Vietnam, two brothers and their girlfriends take one last road trip, but when they get into an accident, a terrifying experience will take them to a secluded house of horrors, with a chainsaw-wielding killer.”
On one of the commentary track for The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning (2006), there’s a brief discussion about just why this story was conceived the way it was.
Without getting too deep into the chatter (it really was only a few passing sentences anyway), the financial success of the 2003 reboot of the 1974 original practically required that this creative team pick up the reins and run with another installment: audiences showed up, and even though critics weren’t exactly overwhelmed with the remake it was still clear that monies were available for the taking. Who can blame them? So, as they gathered to discuss where to take the franchise next, the writers insisted that the bulk of feedback they’d heard from fandom was ‘How and where did this all begin?’ Believing that a prequel might allow them greater freedom of expression and even more visceral material, they hatched their game plan and made it so.
If that’s true – that longtime fans were committed to knowing the life-changing answers about how the Hewitt family got into the bloody business of stalking, butchering, and eating others – then I suspect the studio suits weren’t as impressed with the film’s resulting performance. Although it fell well short of the returns the reboot scored, The Beginning made back its budget and then some. Overall, it brought in about half as compared to the relaunch; and that leads me to suspect that viewers either weren’t all that interested in the family’s origins or the audience just didn’t much care for the answers they got.
Ouch.
Poor little Tommy (as played by Andrew Bryniarski) can’t seem to catch a break. After being born on the killing floor of the local slaughterhouse, he was abandoned in a trash dumpster only to be found by and ‘adopted’ by the Hewitt family. Once he grows to maturity with a physical deformity – lo and behold – the only place he can find a job in the dead-end backwoods of a town is that same old slaughterhouse. When the economy goes way, way, way south and the chop shop is shuttered, Tommy snaps, killing the plant manager with the sledgehammer and then absconding with his boss’ chainsaw … apparently a butcher’s heirloom just left sitting on the nearby desk (for no discernible reason).
???
Now … this is fiction – Horror fiction, at that – so I don’t want to venture too deeply into critical discourse. No: despite what you’ve been told, the Hewitts were not a real family – at least, not so far as I’ve ever been able to figure out – and the original Chainsaw story was long ago said to have been inspired by the bloody exploits of serial killer Ed Gein, a favorite foundation to many like-minded movies and television series. Rather than plumb the history of Gein’s own sordid life, The Beginning’s screenwriters Sheldon Turner and David J. Schow opted to put their own imaginative stamp on this screen legend; and – pardon me for saying – I just wasn’t won over with dialing all of this madness down to a case of workplace violence gone bad. Was he not even concerned about what would be happening with his 401K?
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Before being sent to serve in Vietnam, two brothers and their girlfriends take one last road trip, but when they get into an accident, a terrifying experience will take them to a secluded house of horrors, with a chainsaw-wielding killer.”
On one of the commentary track for The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning (2006), there’s a brief discussion about just why this story was conceived the way it was.
Without getting too deep into the chatter (it really was only a few passing sentences anyway), the financial success of the 2003 reboot of the 1974 original practically required that this creative team pick up the reins and run with another installment: audiences showed up, and even though critics weren’t exactly overwhelmed with the remake it was still clear that monies were available for the taking. Who can blame them? So, as they gathered to discuss where to take the franchise next, the writers insisted that the bulk of feedback they’d heard from fandom was ‘How and where did this all begin?’ Believing that a prequel might allow them greater freedom of expression and even more visceral material, they hatched their game plan and made it so.
If that’s true – that longtime fans were committed to knowing the life-changing answers about how the Hewitt family got into the bloody business of stalking, butchering, and eating others – then I suspect the studio suits weren’t as impressed with the film’s resulting performance. Although it fell well short of the returns the reboot scored, The Beginning made back its budget and then some. Overall, it brought in about half as compared to the relaunch; and that leads me to suspect that viewers either weren’t all that interested in the family’s origins or the audience just didn’t much care for the answers they got.
Ouch.
Poor little Tommy (as played by Andrew Bryniarski) can’t seem to catch a break. After being born on the killing floor of the local slaughterhouse, he was abandoned in a trash dumpster only to be found by and ‘adopted’ by the Hewitt family. Once he grows to maturity with a physical deformity – lo and behold – the only place he can find a job in the dead-end backwoods of a town is that same old slaughterhouse. When the economy goes way, way, way south and the chop shop is shuttered, Tommy snaps, killing the plant manager with the sledgehammer and then absconding with his boss’ chainsaw … apparently a butcher’s heirloom just left sitting on the nearby desk (for no discernible reason).
???
Now … this is fiction – Horror fiction, at that – so I don’t want to venture too deeply into critical discourse. No: despite what you’ve been told, the Hewitts were not a real family – at least, not so far as I’ve ever been able to figure out – and the original Chainsaw story was long ago said to have been inspired by the bloody exploits of serial killer Ed Gein, a favorite foundation to many like-minded movies and television series. Rather than plumb the history of Gein’s own sordid life, The Beginning’s screenwriters Sheldon Turner and David J. Schow opted to put their own imaginative stamp on this screen legend; and – pardon me for saying – I just wasn’t won over with dialing all of this madness down to a case of workplace violence gone bad. Was he not even concerned about what would be happening with his 401K?
Granted, there’s a bit more. The resident dear old dad-figure – Uncle Charlie (R. Lee Ermey) – agrees to accompany the small-town sheriff to help talk Tommy down from his bout of insanity. When the fateful moment arrives for Charlie’s assistance, the man instead shoots the LEO dead in cold blood, steals his police car and uniform, and promotes himself to be the sole legal authority of these fruited yet blood-stained plains. Given the fact that Charlie was clearly well already off his rocker – as are the rest of the Hewitt family and friends – The Beginning never quite feels like a true origins picture so much so as it joined their collective descent already in progress.
Structurally, the film really only serves as a narrative prequel – a weak one, at that – and only loosely tries to tie itself to what moviegoers had already seen in 2003’s Chainsaw, an affable enough retread to warrant a watch. We learn where Leatherface’s first leatherface came from; and we watch as he claims his first victim and steals that seminal chainsaw. But the gaping hole involving the psychological of how and/or why one of filmdom’s biggest villains never gets filled much less addressed in any discernible way. Are we to accept that he was just born bad? Are we to assume that he had a loving upbringing amongst adults who taught him the delights of eating human flesh? Undoubtedly, this wasn’t the Hewitt family’s first rodeo, leaving me more than a bit underwhelmed even with director Jonathan Liebesman’s capable stewardship.
Sadly, The Beginning cheapens the whole aura of dread that once surrounded and damn near embraced this intellectual property in a mighty death grip; and that’s saying something. In the hands of this cast and crew, a revered franchise was watered down into just another color-by-numbers installment, similar to the fate suffered by Jason Voorhees or Freddy Krueger or Michael Myers. The victims – a cavalcade of young faces like Jordana Brewster, Taylor Handley, Diora Baird, and Matt Bomer – are good to look at, but there isn’t a shred of personality in any of them. They’re formulaic creations – with tiny flavoring here and there – and yet because we’re never much encouraged to care about them their respective demises wind up being welcome piles of – ahem – ground beef.
Hell, even Brewster delivers a speech of defiance once she’s seated at the Hewitt dinner table. What with her friends appearing as part of stew in the pot, the best she can do is muster a few stereotypical words about inbreeding Southerners. (Mind you: the screenwriters try to make it appear original by having her use the word ‘lineage,’ something that sounds so damn out of place coming from her mouth its laughable.) As par for the (dinner) course, Uncle/Sheriff responds about the Hewitt’s reign of terror being a necessity of Biblical proportions; and it was at this point that I knew without a doubt that Leatherface’s time in the theatrical spotlight had waned under creative laziness.
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning (2006) was produced by New Line Cinema, Platinum Dunes, Next Entertainment, Vortex/Henkel/Hooper, and Texas Chainsaw Productions. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can assure that the provided sights and sounds are stellar: aesthetically, the prequel seriously lacks the flair of the remake, and I think that also hurts the mood of the whole production. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? This is Arrow, folks, and they just don’t disappoint: there’s a huge assortment of old and new ones on here, along with two commentary tracks. My tip? Listen to the archival commentary – the one hosted by Liebesman and two producers – as it’s vastly better than the ‘all too chatty’ newer one: I’m a dude who prefers information from commentaries, and the current trend of bringing podcasters to pontificate over their favorite scenes just falls flat on me.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
Again, I find it necessary to clarify that just because I find it hard to recommend The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning that doesn’t mean I didn’t have a little fun with it. My problem lies solely with the fact that, essentially, it never really needed to be made. These origins aren’t critical in any way whatsoever to what eventually happens with the Hewitt family; and some might even suggest that these backstories distract from what truly makes them iconic in the features that explore their dark pursuits. Still, it functions on its own efficiency as a Horror standalone – meaning that, frankly, it didn’t even have to be the Hewitts to begin with – and that’s the only selling point I can muster from an otherwise forgettable outing.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray copy of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning (2006) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Structurally, the film really only serves as a narrative prequel – a weak one, at that – and only loosely tries to tie itself to what moviegoers had already seen in 2003’s Chainsaw, an affable enough retread to warrant a watch. We learn where Leatherface’s first leatherface came from; and we watch as he claims his first victim and steals that seminal chainsaw. But the gaping hole involving the psychological of how and/or why one of filmdom’s biggest villains never gets filled much less addressed in any discernible way. Are we to accept that he was just born bad? Are we to assume that he had a loving upbringing amongst adults who taught him the delights of eating human flesh? Undoubtedly, this wasn’t the Hewitt family’s first rodeo, leaving me more than a bit underwhelmed even with director Jonathan Liebesman’s capable stewardship.
Sadly, The Beginning cheapens the whole aura of dread that once surrounded and damn near embraced this intellectual property in a mighty death grip; and that’s saying something. In the hands of this cast and crew, a revered franchise was watered down into just another color-by-numbers installment, similar to the fate suffered by Jason Voorhees or Freddy Krueger or Michael Myers. The victims – a cavalcade of young faces like Jordana Brewster, Taylor Handley, Diora Baird, and Matt Bomer – are good to look at, but there isn’t a shred of personality in any of them. They’re formulaic creations – with tiny flavoring here and there – and yet because we’re never much encouraged to care about them their respective demises wind up being welcome piles of – ahem – ground beef.
Hell, even Brewster delivers a speech of defiance once she’s seated at the Hewitt dinner table. What with her friends appearing as part of stew in the pot, the best she can do is muster a few stereotypical words about inbreeding Southerners. (Mind you: the screenwriters try to make it appear original by having her use the word ‘lineage,’ something that sounds so damn out of place coming from her mouth its laughable.) As par for the (dinner) course, Uncle/Sheriff responds about the Hewitt’s reign of terror being a necessity of Biblical proportions; and it was at this point that I knew without a doubt that Leatherface’s time in the theatrical spotlight had waned under creative laziness.
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning (2006) was produced by New Line Cinema, Platinum Dunes, Next Entertainment, Vortex/Henkel/Hooper, and Texas Chainsaw Productions. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can assure that the provided sights and sounds are stellar: aesthetically, the prequel seriously lacks the flair of the remake, and I think that also hurts the mood of the whole production. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? This is Arrow, folks, and they just don’t disappoint: there’s a huge assortment of old and new ones on here, along with two commentary tracks. My tip? Listen to the archival commentary – the one hosted by Liebesman and two producers – as it’s vastly better than the ‘all too chatty’ newer one: I’m a dude who prefers information from commentaries, and the current trend of bringing podcasters to pontificate over their favorite scenes just falls flat on me.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
Again, I find it necessary to clarify that just because I find it hard to recommend The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning that doesn’t mean I didn’t have a little fun with it. My problem lies solely with the fact that, essentially, it never really needed to be made. These origins aren’t critical in any way whatsoever to what eventually happens with the Hewitt family; and some might even suggest that these backstories distract from what truly makes them iconic in the features that explore their dark pursuits. Still, it functions on its own efficiency as a Horror standalone – meaning that, frankly, it didn’t even have to be the Hewitts to begin with – and that’s the only selling point I can muster from an otherwise forgettable outing.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray copy of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning (2006) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
- Published on
site update
So many movies ... so little time ...
On this day in 1993 (in the U.S.), the unthinkable finally happened to the seemingly immortal Jason Voorhees when audiences were treated to his possible demise in Jason Goes To Hell: The Final Friday. Written (in part) and directed by Adam Marcus, the film starred Kane Hodder, Kari Keegan, Steven Williams, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"Serial killer Jason Voorhees' supernatural origins are revealed."
For the record:
ExtraExtra Alert:
In 2025, I received an all-new home video release of Jason Goes To Hell: The Final Friday from a distributor in exchange for review coverage on SciFiHistory.Net. Interested readers can find my review right here.
-- EZ
On this day in 1993 (in the U.S.), the unthinkable finally happened to the seemingly immortal Jason Voorhees when audiences were treated to his possible demise in Jason Goes To Hell: The Final Friday. Written (in part) and directed by Adam Marcus, the film starred Kane Hodder, Kari Keegan, Steven Williams, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"Serial killer Jason Voorhees' supernatural origins are revealed."
For the record:
- At the 1994 Fangoria Chainsaw Awards, Jason Goes To Hell received four nominations (but no wins) in the categories of 'Best Screenplay,' 'Best Wide-Release Film,' 'Best Supporting Actor,' and 'Best Actress.'
- At the 2014 Saturn Awards, Jason Goes To Hell was included as part of an all-new home video release -- Friday The 13th: The Complete Collection -- which received a nomination in the category of 'Best DVD / Blu-ray Collection.'
ExtraExtra Alert:
In 2025, I received an all-new home video release of Jason Goes To Hell: The Final Friday from a distributor in exchange for review coverage on SciFiHistory.Net. Interested readers can find my review right here.
-- EZ
- Published on
site update
So many movies ... so little time ...
On this day in 1993 (in the U.S.), love and the afterlife collided for the theatrical release of Heart And Souls. Directed by Ron Underwood from a story by Gregory Hansen, Erik Hansen, Brent Maddock, and S.S. Wilson, the film starred Robert Downey Jr., Charles Grodin, Elisabeth Shue, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"An unhappy businessman finds a new sense of purpose after he's tasked with helping a quartet of ghosts fulfill their last wishes before moving on to the afterlife."
For the record:
Wowza! At the 1994 Saturn Awards, Heart And Souls received an incredible 10 nominations -- including a nod for 'Best Fantasy Film' -- but the picture only went home with a single trophy that evening ... and it was in the hands of Downey Jr. for his part as 'Best Actor.'
-- EZ
On this day in 1993 (in the U.S.), love and the afterlife collided for the theatrical release of Heart And Souls. Directed by Ron Underwood from a story by Gregory Hansen, Erik Hansen, Brent Maddock, and S.S. Wilson, the film starred Robert Downey Jr., Charles Grodin, Elisabeth Shue, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"An unhappy businessman finds a new sense of purpose after he's tasked with helping a quartet of ghosts fulfill their last wishes before moving on to the afterlife."
For the record:
Wowza! At the 1994 Saturn Awards, Heart And Souls received an incredible 10 nominations -- including a nod for 'Best Fantasy Film' -- but the picture only went home with a single trophy that evening ... and it was in the hands of Downey Jr. for his part as 'Best Actor.'
-- EZ
- Published on
site update
So many movies ... so little time ...
On this day in 2003 (in the U.S.), it was the throwdown to end all throwdown when two of the Horror industry's biggest icons finally shared a bit of screen and scream time together for the theatrical release of Freddy Vs. Jason. Directed by Ronny Yu from a story by Wes Craven, Victor Miller, Damian Shannon, and Mark Swift, the film starred Robert Englund, Ken Kirzinger, Monica Keena, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"Freddy Krueger and Jason Voorhees return to terrorize the teenagers of Elm Street. Only this time, they're out to get each other, too."
For the record:
-- EZ
On this day in 2003 (in the U.S.), it was the throwdown to end all throwdown when two of the Horror industry's biggest icons finally shared a bit of screen and scream time together for the theatrical release of Freddy Vs. Jason. Directed by Ronny Yu from a story by Wes Craven, Victor Miller, Damian Shannon, and Mark Swift, the film starred Robert Englund, Ken Kirzinger, Monica Keena, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"Freddy Krueger and Jason Voorhees return to terrorize the teenagers of Elm Street. Only this time, they're out to get each other, too."
For the record:
- At the 2004 Saturn Awards, Freddy Vs Jason received a nomination in the category of 'Best Horror Film.'
- At the 2004 Fangoria Chainsaw Awards, the flick received nominations in the categories of 'Best Actor' (for Englund) and 'Best Make-Up / Creature FX.'
-- EZ
- Published on
site update
So many movies ... so little time ...
On this day in 1946 (in the U.S.), the big city of Los Angeles, California played host for the big screen exclusive theatrical premiere event held for The Time Of Their Lives. (FYI: full U.S. theatrical release would follow a few days later.) Directed by Charles Barton from a story by John Cecil Holm, Val Burton, Walter DeLeon, Bradford Ropes, and John Grant, the film starred Bud Abbott, Lou Costello, Marjorie Reynolds, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"A psychiatrist stays in a mansion haunted by prankish ghosts from the Revolutionary War."
-- EZ
On this day in 1946 (in the U.S.), the big city of Los Angeles, California played host for the big screen exclusive theatrical premiere event held for The Time Of Their Lives. (FYI: full U.S. theatrical release would follow a few days later.) Directed by Charles Barton from a story by John Cecil Holm, Val Burton, Walter DeLeon, Bradford Ropes, and John Grant, the film starred Bud Abbott, Lou Costello, Marjorie Reynolds, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"A psychiatrist stays in a mansion haunted by prankish ghosts from the Revolutionary War."
-- EZ
- Published on
History matters, folks.
Regardless of what you or I or anyone thinks, what came before deserves a place of distinction in the wide, wide world of art; and that’s something I don’t believe everyone understands or appreciates. In fact, that sentiment is exactly why I started SciFiHistory.Net. Back in the day, I read columns and/or websites and/or articles written by folks who clearly – very clearly – had no appreciable sense of cinema and/or television that had come before. They simply shucked whatever opinions they had on a property, maybe only tangentially mentioning that it was a remake or was inspired by something produced in the past, sometimes even glossing over the simple fact that the original – while flawed in its own way – might still be a vastly greater interpretation of the story and characters. In many cases, these “critics” hadn’t even seen the earlier version; and this unintentionally discredited some of their critical arguments when they – gasp! – judged the newer work as better than the old. How in the name of Sam Hill could they make such an assumption? Well, I suspect many figured no one was watching … or reading.
So …
1974’s The Texas Chain Saw Massacre – written (in part) and directed by Tobe Hooper – is respected as being on the high points of cinematic Horror. While it didn’t introduce audiences to the slasher sub-genre, it still arguably defined what it could, would, and (perhaps) should look like going forward, so much so that Massacre influenced a great many imitators at a time when the box office arguably needed a new bloodline (snicker snicker). Its low-budget presentation essentially required that director Hooper and his cast and crew put in even greater effort to craft an atmosphere of dread on pennies by comparison to what major studios were spending; and the end result was a screen experience predicated on realism while not quite showing but implying the level of torture taking place just outside of the camera frame. Though not for everyone, the flick continues to resonate with watchers half-a-century later, even if the mainstream dismisses the effort as little more than a cult experience.
Naturally, Horror aficionados would oppose a remake of something as revered as the 1974 picture; and that’s pretty much what I can recall of scuttlebutt surrounding early reportage for 2003’s The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Despite assurances from all involved that their attempt would be respectful to the original, few if any believed such a thing was possible. I’ve read that there were so fairly vociferous campaigns directed at the studio and the cast, but I honestly only recall reading the feverish blowback on messages boards of the day (ask your parents, kids) and I tended to ignore such things. Unlike others, I’ve never been against remakes: I just want them to have their own purpose.
Well, well, well: on a budget of less than $10 million, the Michael Bay produced remake went on to gross an impressive $107 million worldwide, and that’s no disgrace at all. Critically, the reception was poor-to-mixed, but – as Fate would have it – audiences embraced the bloodshed for what it was. In fact, I’ve also read that many in the industry credit 2003’s Massacre with reinvigorating the slumping theatrical Horror business, re-introducing the quintessential slasher experience to a whole new generation of moviegoers. I don’t know if that’s as true as some might have you believe, but it’s still an impressive return on investment both fiscally and culturally for those of us who think about such things.
Regardless of what you or I or anyone thinks, what came before deserves a place of distinction in the wide, wide world of art; and that’s something I don’t believe everyone understands or appreciates. In fact, that sentiment is exactly why I started SciFiHistory.Net. Back in the day, I read columns and/or websites and/or articles written by folks who clearly – very clearly – had no appreciable sense of cinema and/or television that had come before. They simply shucked whatever opinions they had on a property, maybe only tangentially mentioning that it was a remake or was inspired by something produced in the past, sometimes even glossing over the simple fact that the original – while flawed in its own way – might still be a vastly greater interpretation of the story and characters. In many cases, these “critics” hadn’t even seen the earlier version; and this unintentionally discredited some of their critical arguments when they – gasp! – judged the newer work as better than the old. How in the name of Sam Hill could they make such an assumption? Well, I suspect many figured no one was watching … or reading.
So …
1974’s The Texas Chain Saw Massacre – written (in part) and directed by Tobe Hooper – is respected as being on the high points of cinematic Horror. While it didn’t introduce audiences to the slasher sub-genre, it still arguably defined what it could, would, and (perhaps) should look like going forward, so much so that Massacre influenced a great many imitators at a time when the box office arguably needed a new bloodline (snicker snicker). Its low-budget presentation essentially required that director Hooper and his cast and crew put in even greater effort to craft an atmosphere of dread on pennies by comparison to what major studios were spending; and the end result was a screen experience predicated on realism while not quite showing but implying the level of torture taking place just outside of the camera frame. Though not for everyone, the flick continues to resonate with watchers half-a-century later, even if the mainstream dismisses the effort as little more than a cult experience.
Naturally, Horror aficionados would oppose a remake of something as revered as the 1974 picture; and that’s pretty much what I can recall of scuttlebutt surrounding early reportage for 2003’s The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Despite assurances from all involved that their attempt would be respectful to the original, few if any believed such a thing was possible. I’ve read that there were so fairly vociferous campaigns directed at the studio and the cast, but I honestly only recall reading the feverish blowback on messages boards of the day (ask your parents, kids) and I tended to ignore such things. Unlike others, I’ve never been against remakes: I just want them to have their own purpose.
Well, well, well: on a budget of less than $10 million, the Michael Bay produced remake went on to gross an impressive $107 million worldwide, and that’s no disgrace at all. Critically, the reception was poor-to-mixed, but – as Fate would have it – audiences embraced the bloodshed for what it was. In fact, I’ve also read that many in the industry credit 2003’s Massacre with reinvigorating the slumping theatrical Horror business, re-introducing the quintessential slasher experience to a whole new generation of moviegoers. I don’t know if that’s as true as some might have you believe, but it’s still an impressive return on investment both fiscally and culturally for those of us who think about such things.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“After picking up a traumatized young hitchhiker, five friends find themselves stalked and hunted by a deformed chainsaw-wielding loon and his family of equally psychopathic killers.”
Let’s clarify something right up front: I’m not opposed to remakes.
Unlike a great number of folks who write and/or pontificate about film, I’m different in that I’ve always said I don’t consider myself necessarily beholden to an original. While, sure, I’d rather not see an endless parade of remakes – especially of those stories generally accepted as classics by the public-at-large – I’m still not opposed to them in any substantial way. Minimally, I do ask that they bring enough to the table to justify their own existence – i.e. bring something fresh, new, or innovative to the landscape – but, otherwise, I really don’t have a ‘dog in this fight,’ as they say. I’ll watch it. I’ll tell you whether or not I thought it was necessary. Lastly, I’ll tell you what I think of it independent of the source original; and I might even let you in on whether or not I believe all of it was worth a damn.
So …
Structurally, 2003’s Massacre is very similar to the 1974 foundation, so much so it’s really not worth point out to any great degree. Essentially, there’s a van filled with young adults travelling into the heart of the American backwoods where nothing is what it seems. They stumbled into a rather dire set of circumstances which – inevitably – brings about their bloody demise one-by-one, with a lone holdout managing to stand her ground against the forces of darkness arrayed before her in the big climax. Both end on a note of being unfinished, leaving their respective doors wide open for a follow-up should that be warranted though they still function efficiently as independent stories.
Aesthetically, they’re very different films.
This is, debatably, the most interesting distinction because both films were photographed by the same man, something I’ve read is a film history first: cinematographer Daniel Pearl worked closely alongside Tobe Hooper at fashioning the stark images that introduced Leatherface and his family to audiences of the 1970’s, and then the cameraman was thrilled to re-enter such haunts with a whole new pop culture MTV look – one complete with shadows and fog – for early 2000’s moviegoers. While the Marcus Nispel remake contains some clever visual callbacks to the original, the film is an impressive re-interpretation of some of the screens darkest delights, still leaving just enough gore as implied as opposed to splashing all of that blood up in the spotlight.
Now, Massacre is still Horror, folks.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“After picking up a traumatized young hitchhiker, five friends find themselves stalked and hunted by a deformed chainsaw-wielding loon and his family of equally psychopathic killers.”
Let’s clarify something right up front: I’m not opposed to remakes.
Unlike a great number of folks who write and/or pontificate about film, I’m different in that I’ve always said I don’t consider myself necessarily beholden to an original. While, sure, I’d rather not see an endless parade of remakes – especially of those stories generally accepted as classics by the public-at-large – I’m still not opposed to them in any substantial way. Minimally, I do ask that they bring enough to the table to justify their own existence – i.e. bring something fresh, new, or innovative to the landscape – but, otherwise, I really don’t have a ‘dog in this fight,’ as they say. I’ll watch it. I’ll tell you whether or not I thought it was necessary. Lastly, I’ll tell you what I think of it independent of the source original; and I might even let you in on whether or not I believe all of it was worth a damn.
So …
Structurally, 2003’s Massacre is very similar to the 1974 foundation, so much so it’s really not worth point out to any great degree. Essentially, there’s a van filled with young adults travelling into the heart of the American backwoods where nothing is what it seems. They stumbled into a rather dire set of circumstances which – inevitably – brings about their bloody demise one-by-one, with a lone holdout managing to stand her ground against the forces of darkness arrayed before her in the big climax. Both end on a note of being unfinished, leaving their respective doors wide open for a follow-up should that be warranted though they still function efficiently as independent stories.
Aesthetically, they’re very different films.
This is, debatably, the most interesting distinction because both films were photographed by the same man, something I’ve read is a film history first: cinematographer Daniel Pearl worked closely alongside Tobe Hooper at fashioning the stark images that introduced Leatherface and his family to audiences of the 1970’s, and then the cameraman was thrilled to re-enter such haunts with a whole new pop culture MTV look – one complete with shadows and fog – for early 2000’s moviegoers. While the Marcus Nispel remake contains some clever visual callbacks to the original, the film is an impressive re-interpretation of some of the screens darkest delights, still leaving just enough gore as implied as opposed to splashing all of that blood up in the spotlight.
Now, Massacre is still Horror, folks.
Intrinsically, this assures audiences that they’re still going to have jump scares, plot twists, and the occasional dumb character so inept or misinformed that you’re left screaming “go the other way” from your seats. Nispel and screenwriter Scott Kosar knew well enough to avoid any major alterations from the industry norm, and the resulting parade of events functions rather elegantly on creating the kind of tension everyone expects. The remake fleshes out the cast of characters within the Hewitt family and the relatively small circle of friends a bit more than Hooper even tried with the first version; and this might be where ardent fans feel a bit cheated. Leatherface remains the big baddie, but there’s a bit more ‘community’ to this screen incarnation for better or for worse.
As for the cast?
Without sounding too fanboy, I don’t think Jessica Biel has ever looked better on screen. As the token ‘final girl,’ she embraces the role of Erin unlike few who put on Cinderella’s slipper; and she inhabits the central spot a chemistry all of her own. While she could’ve used a bit more character – or a greater backstory – what there is still works, especially since there’s a lingering plot point involving a certain diamond ring she’ll never know about while we, the audience, do. It’s touching in a quirky way. Also, the late R. Lee Ermey damn near steals the picture right out from under Leatherface’s bulk: as the small-town sheriff – or is he? – the man musters a creepy undercurrent before transforming himself into full bonkers madman as the story develops. David Dorfman plays Jedidiah– the youngest of the Hewitt clan – in a style mildly reminiscent of the ‘Feral Kid’ from 1981’s The Road Warrior; and he, too, surprisingly makes the most of the scenes he’s given.
Ultimately, it’s still a bit difficult to answer the question as to whether or not the 2003 remake was creatively necessary. Some of this is owed to the fact that – as I said above – it both is and isn’t a retread. While 2003’s Massacre clearly invests heavily in the premise of the original, Nispel’s film still manages to chart its own waters, feeling more like a ‘jazz riff’ than it does a re-interpretation. It may bob when it should’ve weaved, and it may weave when it should’ve bobbed, but – thematically – it still hits the same mark as Hooper’s flick, maybe too much so. It’s almost as if both pictures kinda/sorta weirdly echo off one another in a way that allows for them to exist simultaneously, both reflective of the place and time they occupy historically. If style is the only distinction between the two, then it’s really left to the audience to reward the better effort … and since both have been rewarded?
Personally, I had more fun with the remake, and I have a great deal of respect for the original. Having seen Hooper’s effort a few times – mostly just for history’s sake as it isn’t one I’m inclined to throw on casually – I see just how it reflected the late 1960’s and early 1970’s, introducing a major level of theatrical cynicism to the movie house. Yet, it isn’t a flick I watch for its characters … well, other than the oddball assortment of boondocks cannibals. 2003’s Massacre feels like it was manufactured more for mass consumption – a thrill ride brought to life – making it somewhat more appealing as a product, not a cultural or iconic reaction.
Make of that what you will.
As for the cast?
Without sounding too fanboy, I don’t think Jessica Biel has ever looked better on screen. As the token ‘final girl,’ she embraces the role of Erin unlike few who put on Cinderella’s slipper; and she inhabits the central spot a chemistry all of her own. While she could’ve used a bit more character – or a greater backstory – what there is still works, especially since there’s a lingering plot point involving a certain diamond ring she’ll never know about while we, the audience, do. It’s touching in a quirky way. Also, the late R. Lee Ermey damn near steals the picture right out from under Leatherface’s bulk: as the small-town sheriff – or is he? – the man musters a creepy undercurrent before transforming himself into full bonkers madman as the story develops. David Dorfman plays Jedidiah– the youngest of the Hewitt clan – in a style mildly reminiscent of the ‘Feral Kid’ from 1981’s The Road Warrior; and he, too, surprisingly makes the most of the scenes he’s given.
Ultimately, it’s still a bit difficult to answer the question as to whether or not the 2003 remake was creatively necessary. Some of this is owed to the fact that – as I said above – it both is and isn’t a retread. While 2003’s Massacre clearly invests heavily in the premise of the original, Nispel’s film still manages to chart its own waters, feeling more like a ‘jazz riff’ than it does a re-interpretation. It may bob when it should’ve weaved, and it may weave when it should’ve bobbed, but – thematically – it still hits the same mark as Hooper’s flick, maybe too much so. It’s almost as if both pictures kinda/sorta weirdly echo off one another in a way that allows for them to exist simultaneously, both reflective of the place and time they occupy historically. If style is the only distinction between the two, then it’s really left to the audience to reward the better effort … and since both have been rewarded?
Personally, I had more fun with the remake, and I have a great deal of respect for the original. Having seen Hooper’s effort a few times – mostly just for history’s sake as it isn’t one I’m inclined to throw on casually – I see just how it reflected the late 1960’s and early 1970’s, introducing a major level of theatrical cynicism to the movie house. Yet, it isn’t a flick I watch for its characters … well, other than the oddball assortment of boondocks cannibals. 2003’s Massacre feels like it was manufactured more for mass consumption – a thrill ride brought to life – making it somewhat more appealing as a product, not a cultural or iconic reaction.
Make of that what you will.
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003) was produced by New Line Cinema, Focus Features, Radar Pictures, Platinum Dunes, Next Entertainment, and Chainsaw Productions LLC. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can assure you that disc provides an incredible level of sight and sound consistently. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? This is Arrow, and they never disappoint. There’s a great assortment of new and old on here -- archived ones are a bit more like advertising than they are informative -- along with an all-new audio commentary (which, sadly, feels like two guys just sitting around talking about what scared them most instead of really addressing the film and the effort to bring it all to life).
Recommended.
I’ve said before that I’m not much a fan of the Slasher genre, and yet I’ll still insist that there are several efforts worth seeing. While the 1974 original continues to stand the test of time, 2003’s The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is still just good enough, just curious enough, and just entertaining enough to make it worthy of a recommendation. In fact, I’d go so far as to encourage true fans to purchase/rent and watch both – back-to-back – if you truly want to see how, historically, these entries established their respective bona fides. I won’t be surprised to learn that you see them as I do: two entirely authentic interpretations of (nearly) the exact same story differing mostly by stylistic approach. 2003’s may not exactly speak volumes about the culture, but because it’s drawn heavily from source material that does there are still lessons in there worth learning. That’s a rare accomplishment, indeed.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray copy of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Recommended.
I’ve said before that I’m not much a fan of the Slasher genre, and yet I’ll still insist that there are several efforts worth seeing. While the 1974 original continues to stand the test of time, 2003’s The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is still just good enough, just curious enough, and just entertaining enough to make it worthy of a recommendation. In fact, I’d go so far as to encourage true fans to purchase/rent and watch both – back-to-back – if you truly want to see how, historically, these entries established their respective bona fides. I won’t be surprised to learn that you see them as I do: two entirely authentic interpretations of (nearly) the exact same story differing mostly by stylistic approach. 2003’s may not exactly speak volumes about the culture, but because it’s drawn heavily from source material that does there are still lessons in there worth learning. That’s a rare accomplishment, indeed.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray copy of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ