No horror movie is greater than The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Yet no classic has also spawned as many misguided sequels as Tobe Hooper’s 1974 nightmare, whose grindhouse legacy is as unimpeachable and enduring as its progeny’s reputations are–with one stark, glorious exception–deservedly awful. Netflix’s new Texas Chainsaw Massacre (February 18), the franchise’s ninth entry, doesn’t change that trend; the tale of a group of millennials who fall prey to Leatherface in an abandoned town that they’re trying to resurrect via cash infusions from party-busing entrepreneurs (!?!?), it does just about everything wrong in attempting to recapture its forefather’s macabre magic. It’s not the worst film to feature Leatherface and his enormous weapon of choice, but it reconfirms that, for nearly fifty years, no artist other than Hooper has ever truly understood the raw, terrifying power of the original and its chainsaw-wielding psychopath. To comprehend the folly of these follow-ups, it’s vital to first revisit the source. Hooper’s sophomore directorial outing is an unforgettably inventive work of malevolence, combining grubby, sunburnt 16mm visuals, ragged and spiraling staging and editing, and a mean streak a mile wide to create a borderline-hallucinatory descent into mayhem. Loosely inspired by real-life serial killer Ed Gein, it recounts the grisly ordeal of Sally Hardesty (Marilyn Burns), her wheelchair-bound brother Franklin (Paul A. Partain) and their three friends, whose trip to check out the desecrat… Click below to read the full story from Esquire
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Why Do The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Sequels All Suck?
