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
RSS Feed