(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
RSS Feed