Originally published October 2021
It’s almost Halloween, which means ‘tis the season for “slasher” flicks, the movies about insane killers murdering dumb, attractive teenagers.
The slasher formula is actually a little more complicated than that but still has some instantly recognizable tropes:
- A group of teens or young adults who typically wander into an eerie, remote area
- A killer, usually masked but not always, who kills off the kids in succession, often using a knife or other brutal means
- A “final girl” who outlasts the others and may ultimately overcome the killer
- A pattern in which the characters who have sex are typically murdered shortly afterward; by extension, the final girl is often a virgin
So which films fit the bill? In my view, these are the staples:
- Friday the 13th (1980)
- Halloween (1978)
- The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974)
- A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984)
Later hits like Child’s Play (1988) and Scream (1996) would use slasher elements, too, but with modern twists or alterations. And each of the four films I listed spawned several sequels, all with the same basic premise.
The big question, then: which slasher film is king? To me, there’s no contest:
The Texas Chain Saw Massacre is the best slasher movie ever made, and not only that; it’s one of the most terrifying movies of all time, a true American masterpiece. I didn’t bother to see it until recently, because I had inferred by its title that it would be a simple, mindless gore-fest not worth the time. If you’re of similar thinking right now, you’re wrong, and you need to watch this incredibly dark, disturbing movie, which actually isn’t gory at all.
You’ll notice that TCSM, directed by Tobe Hooper, is chronologically the earliest of the four movies I listed; it can therefore be said that it “invented” the slasher genre. It may not be surprising, then, that it’s superior to the others: the original is usually the best. Of course, prior landmarks like Psycho (1960) influenced TCSM heavily, so it’s not as if TCSM’s aesthetics appeared out of thin air. But it crystallized the concept, in particular, of a relentless, masked killer picking off teenagers, and apparently, it did so memorably enough that endless franchises and box office revenues were to follow in its wake.
The second best film of the four I listed is Halloween, a great film in its own right due to excellent craftsmanship, solid acting, and a classic score. But the key difference between Halloween and TCSM is that TCSM seems to suggest a broad, expansive horror just beneath the surface of normal American life, while Halloween treats its bloodshed as only an aberration. Michael Myers is so wildly demonic that he scares even a seasoned forensic psychologist and is repeatedly compared to the Boogeyman. TCSM‘s Leatherface, on the other hand, seems only to have a developmental disability and a sadistic family. Who do you think you’re more likely to run into?
Many have noticed that the film appears to contain a statement of sorts about animal cruelty: Leatherface and the Sawyer family treat their victims as mere animals ready for butchering. This pushes us to reconsider these practices. I’d add that this conceit is also inherently frightening in that it allows Hooper to question how much higher, evolutionarily, we really are than the animals we eat. After all, before Leatherface arrives, the gang of teens is mostly preoccupied with sex and isn’t very kind to a member of their group in a wheelchair, at one point carelessly allowing him to fall on his face while he tries to urinate. Is Leatherface on to something by treating us like mere beasts?
Now that’s a scary thought.
The issue of resenting sex is an interesting one in TCSM, especially since its many knockoffs, especially Friday the 13th, would center it so obviously. What’s notable about TCSM’s treatment of the topic is that the first person to express jealousy or resentment isn’t one of the villains but rather Franklin, the wheelchair-bound boy who can’t partake in the shenanigans of the others.
This jealousy is only echoed later by the Sawyers, all of whom are male and defer to a barely-alive patriarch, and who clearly enjoy watching women suffer, judging by their treatment of Sally at dinner. The Sawyers’ boorish jeering recalls Franklin’s show of sarcastic anger with his peers when they leave him downstairs at the old house. And Leatherface, like Franklin, appears to have a disability. Is the fact that we can’t see the killer’s real face a subliminal way of linking him with Franklin?
Again, these sorts of ideas create more terror than a simple Boogeyman does.
But I think the key insight into the film’s themes involves industry and capitalism. The hitchhiker early in the film reports that technological advances have led to job losses in the slaughterhouse, meaning, like Norman Bates, whose interstate moved away, the Sawyer family has been cut off from American prosperity, stranded in a dilapidated rural wasteland—the water hole metaphorically dried up. We may not think much about what happens to people like this, but Hooper, like Hitchcock before him, has thought about it, and he’s concluded, like his predecessor: very possibly, madness.
The Sawyers are very clearly a nightmarish rendition of the average American family. They show us our own folksy customs mangled by poverty and isolation. For example, the dad—if he is the dad; it’s never confirmed—chatters amiably to a bound Sally in the car while also laughing maniacally and beating her with a stick. The hitchhiker acts out and talks back like a typical deadbeat son—while simultaneously torturing Sally at the dinner table. To complete the nuclear family, Leatherface is made to dress up as a housewife.
The point seems to be that our traditions and culture, which we take such comfort in, are entirely corruptible given the wrong circumstances. And TCSM subtly suggests that depraved crimes are occurring all over: we hear stories over the radio of nasty deeds, not all of which could have been committed by the Sawyers. And why wouldn’t there be similar families? The Sawyers can’t be the only ones cut off from prosperity due to technological changes.
TCSM ends in spectacular fashion, with Sally riding away on the back of a pickup truck and Leatherface raging (dancing?) with his chainsaw as the sun rises. This final image grants him the aesthetic grandeur that he deserves. The symbolism of the rising sun is open to interpretation, but I view it, circa 1974 following Vietnam and Watergate, as a warning from Hooper that there’s a new day in America, and the Leatherfaces of the country, out for blood and swinging savagely, are going to be a part of it. Watching the scene in our current era of politics only heightens the resonance.
So don’t let the campiness and predictability of the slasher genre that formed years after the release of this film lead you to dismiss it. The Texas Chain Saw Massacre is a rightful classic with a disturbing, uncomfortable view of the American way, and there’s no better time to watch it than this fall season. Happy Halloween!
–Jim Andersen
For more analyses, check out my look at the visuals of Avatar.