Texas Forever

This week, a 70s classic, spooky sounds, and medieval horror stories. Spoilers for The Texas Chain Saw Massacre.

From the Grave.

Three ideas from horror cinema's past.

◆ The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, dir. Tobe Hooper, 1974.

Texas sun. One of the most influential movies ever made, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre’s descendants are everywhere, but it still feels singular. It remains difficult to shake when the credits roll. This effect isn't reducible to a single element—Hooper made something distinctive on several levels—but a core component is its visual world. This is a horror movie that spends more time in daylight hours than one might expect, with a palette and mood that seems set by the Texas sun. Its indelible final image captures the tone: a crazed Leatherface, chainsaw running, spinning around in the morning light, sun flaring.

Shock. The most upsetting scene in Chain Saw finds Sally tied up at the dinner table with the deranged Sawyer family. Their reaction to her distress isn't just callous disregard but absolute delight in her predicament. They mock her and they wail along in unison with her screams, parodying her anguish. Is there something of this depraved delight in Hooper's relationship with his audience? Not entirely—for Hooper isn't really one to rub things in. He could give us much more nastiness than he really does. This is not, for instance, an especially gory movie. But much of its power does derive from a kind of blunt lack of concern for the audience. Chain Saw has the shocking immediacy of a plunge into freezing water. Hooper may not be gloating, but he is remorseless.