The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2: Electric Boogaloo

Maire says:
Ok, so the original film was pretty intense, wasn’t it? Obviously the best way to follow that up is with slapstick! Don’t get me wrong, this is still a gore flick. Enough so that, on first viewing, you may not realize it’s meant to be funny, which will leave you feeling more horrified than its predecessor.

There’s a lot that can be said about this film. First, Dennis Hopper is in it. Maybe this isn’t surprising to you, but it was to me. Granted, I only really knew of him from his name and those Ameriprise Financial commercials, but his was not a name I equated with slasher movies.

Second, Bill Moseley. I’m sure Corey and Salty will have plenty to say about Bill and his character Chop-Top, so I will leave it to their masterful words.

Third, the Older Brother (he's not the Dad) character. If there is a stereotypical doggoneit dagnabit character portrayed better than Jim Siedow’s, well, I owe you $5.

Fourth through twenty-seventh, well, just watch it. You’ll enjoy it. Though, to fully appreciate Texas 2, you need to watch it with Salty. There may be no other person who can glean so much joy from this film as he does.

Corey says:

If Texas the first is a grandaddy of horror and terror, then 2 is the goofy uncle that’ll sneak you a beer when no one is looking while telling you stories of how he used to light bottle rockets out of his butt. 
The films are fundamentally different in approach, yet the quality of execution is just as high.  The maddening tension and fear of Texas are replaced by larger than life characters, each with their own amazing personality (and hilarious quirks).  That’s not to say that 2 isn’t a horror film, mind you.  It’s just one of those few films that rides that narrow gap between horror comedy and horror absurdity.
One of the things that Salty pointed out to me on this viewing that I hadn’t previously noticed is the set design.  If you look at the weird cave lair thing that the Sawyer folken are holed up in this time around, you notice how much time and care went into designing a place that a crazy family would hang out while winning multiple chili cook offs.  There’s the bones of old victims, coupled with that crazy network of cobwebby tunnels and pipes.  The whole place looks... well... lived in.
Speaking of chili cook offs, I love how Drayton comes off as a greedy capitalist in this film.  When he’s not yelling at his idiot family for doing some idiot thing, he’s scheming and trying to weasel his way into generating more money from his family business.  And who’s to say he’s not good at it?  After all, he’s won multiple chili contests, and that sort of thing will catapult you into financial stardom in a place like Texas.
On a final note, Texas 2 isn’t my favorite in the series.  But it sure as hell is the one I quote the most.

Salty says:

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 is the best movie ever made.

We start out on a cross-state road trip with two rowdy yuppies raising hell on the way to a college football game in – you guessed it – Texas. The young punks manage to piss off the wrong awooga-horn-blowing, confederate-flag-yielding truck (in Texas?! you exclaim. Yes. There are Confederate flags in Texas) with a game chicken, and a few hours later, in the midst of a prank phone call to our favorite Bedazzled DJ, Stretch, the kids are pursued by the truck which now has a chainsaw-wielding corpse riding in the bed. That’s right! The partially mummified corpse of a Vietnam veteran begins to attack the college kids car with a chainsaw from the bed of the truck, which is going upwards of 60 mph (in reverse). Next thing you know the driver’s head has been cut in half and it’s all been caught on tape by Stretch, who is persuaded into honking the recording out on her radio show to try get into serious journalism.

This is just the beginning of the film ladies and gentlemen, just the start of this masterwork. The rest of the movie is filled with fry-houses, aching bananas, crazy armadillo hats, Sonny Bono wigs, plot-driving trap doors, handicapped skeletons, fake brick walls full of discarded viscera, Christmas lights, food trucks, and Mr. Shark. Ever wonder how many times you would have to strike a stranger’s face with a hammer before it stopped being horrifying and started being funny? What does it look like when Death eats a cracker? Would a Vietnam-themed amusement park attract tourists? What would you do if you woke up to find a dear friend was wearing your recently cut-off face? Some questions will be answered, others merely posed - this is a bizarre and wonderful film that totally redefines what it means to be a Part 2.

The film, as a sequel, brilliantly revisits ideas conceived by the original, while simultaneously providing more depth. As it turns out the crazy hitchhiker from Part 1 (who was run over by the Black Maria) has an even crazier identical twin brother who got a metal plate in his head after getting wounded in Vietnam during the events of the first film (you know the plate is there because he has picked away and eaten the burnt scabby skin around it with a wire hanger that he sanitizes with a lighter). The identical twin, Chop Top and the corpse from the truck, Nubbins, expand the family without giving the feeling that new characters are just thrown in, and it’s great to spend more time with the surviving Sawyer brothers: Drayton is more pissed at the world than ever (but I think that that’s due to his hems); Bubba is starting to wonder about the joys of S-C-E-X, and, don’t worry, grandpa is still the best. Dennis Hopper has been added as Lefty, the renegade uncle of the wheelchair-bound raspberry-blower Franklin from the original film. In my opinion Dennis Hopper can do no wrong and this is his defining performance.

So the Part 2 aspect of the film is used expertly, but you may be concerned about the rest of the key elements – as would any fan of Patton Oswalt. The Massacre is admittedly minimal due to budget cuts (only 2 on-screen deaths), but fear not, there is plenty of Chainsaw. How much chainsaw? In addition to the aforementioned partial decapitation, and the live skinning of a chronic spitter, we get a chainsaw swordfight (I admit that this has already been done in Motel Hell), and plenty of phallic allusions. But it’s not just the bad guys that have access to the saws: Dennis Hopper comes right back at the family of chainsaw killers with not one, not two, but three chainsaws. Three chainsaws!? Yes, three chainsaws! You may be wondering how he manages to lug three chainsaws around. Two words: Chainsaw holsters. Oh yes! It’s a chainsaw extravaganza all up in this motherfucker – they even throw in an electric knife, just to cover the bases.

So we get a little Massacre and a lot of Chainsaw, which leaves the Texas. There is more Texas than a pair of rattlesnake cowboy boots, darlin’! The Texas is the best part of the movie. No character could abide any other part of the Union. From old hymns to “Remember the Alamo”, the dialogue reeks of Texas in the best possible way. What better place for a family of cannibals to win awards for their excellent chili? (The secret is in the meat.)

Thanks to Stretch, the movie has a great soundtrack (though no inavitadegotta, baby), and there is an excellent all-synthesizer score that always makes me think of some weird, jazzed up organ. What else can I praise? How about the set design? Brilliant! The home of the chainsaw killers is a delight to behold in real time or frame-by-frame to take in the subtler touches. Casting? I could think of none better. The costumes? Perfect! Do I like every aspect of the movie? Yep. Even the ending? Yeah, I even like the ending. Brazos.

Maire	Corey	Salty
☆☆	☆☆☆	☆☆☆

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Government Film About the Dangers of Picking Up Hitchhikers

Maire says:
First off, did you know that this movie’s wikipedia page has 160 cited references? If that doesn’t say “cult classic,” I don’t know what does.

While Psycho definitely brought the slasher genre to the forefront, Texas makes full use of its elements. Yes, we know there are going to be bloody deaths, but man, it does a great job of building tension. By the end of the film, you’re hoping for the last death, wanting the movie to be done and over already so you don’t have to suffer the tension any longer.

And then the finger scene happens. And you feel horrible about yourself for watching it.

But you still don’t get that last death. Instead, you get a happy(?) ending and the first of our “dancing chainsaw” fade outs.

Oh god, the tension is still there...

whimper

Corey says:

Oh boy, here we go.

One of the reasons that we started the House was to document the fact that, yes, we actually watched all of these films. Even if no one reads our blog, we have a testament to the fact that we took on this Sisyphean task. But the problem arises when we tackle one of the greats. What can we possibly add to the conversation? What can I say about Texas that hasn't already been beaten to death?

Then, I remember that the House is for my reactions to films. How do I feel, 15 or so years after the first time that I viewed Texas? For the most part, I'm just as horrified as I was the first time I saw the film.

The thing that gets me the most about Texas (and the thing that most people tend to forget, if you ask Salty) is that the horror of the movie is not Leatherface. The horror is that there's a whole family of psychopathic wackos. Ol’ Bubba is important, sure, but he’s more of a supporting role to a crazy hitchhiker, a domineering (but loving) older brother, and a grandpa that’s still one of the best slaughterers in the state. In fact, the film would still be great (though maybe not a legend) if Leatherface weren’t present at all. He works as less of a character and more of a catalyst, providing impetus to the horrors that are already being wrought. He’s the salt in a soup, the hops in a beer. The movie isn’t built around him, he is built around the movie.

One of the other things the film excels at is the plodding tension and horror, without much actual gore. All of the sights and sounds are ground in gritty realism, never glorifying but at the same time never pulling any punches. Much like the slaughterhouse background of the Sawyers, the film delivers atmosphere brutally and efficiently. When Sally Hardesty wakes up for dinner, it’s terrifying to her, not because of the freaky bones on the table or the dead (?) man sitting at the table with her, but because of how we got to this moment. We’ve been hung on hooks. We’ve had to run. We know we’re the only one left. And now, just a quiet meal, where we’re the guest of honor. It’s enough to break anyone.

On a final note, Franklin is an amazing character. For one, he’s in a wheelchair, and the film doesn’t make a huge deal out of it. Just another one of those touches that, hey, this is real. Also, he’s a dick. And I love him for it. Every time I see that scene where he’s giving the raspberry, I crack up. But then I remember what’s going to happen to him, and it makes me a little melancholy.

Salty says:

Horror movies steal from one another constantly. It’s a fact. The producer of Friday the 13th admits he told his screenwriter “Write me a movie like Halloween”. All movies do it, but with horror it’s like a riot: everyone is stealing everything they can and no one cares who took what except the overtly pretentious spectator. I am sort of fickle when it comes to the thievery. I had to get rid of my copy of High Tension after I saw Intensity - not that Intensity was that good (fuck you Dean Koontz), but it’s like finding out your favorite porn star has gotten AIDS. It ruins the magic, you know? This is also why I can’t love Night of the Demons, when I watch it, all I can think is I could be watching Evil Dead. But I like Slither and Night of the Creeps, and I love David Cronenberg and he just makes one movie over and over (it’s a good movie). The issue is complicated.

Although dozens, if not hundreds, of movies have shamelessly “borrowed” from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (especially House of 1,000 Corpses), I have yet to see anything made prior to it that bears a remote resemblance. It’s the first movie made for mass audiences that feels like you shouldn’t be watching it, because not only is it violent, it’s chaotic, so you’re never really sure what you’re going to see or if you want to see it. The grainy quality of the film helps, so does the hydrocephalic gas station attendant and the self-mutilating hitchhiker. Also the chainsaw – let’s face it, no one would want to go see The Texas Massacre, that just sounds too religious and depressing.

The film is a Rubicon and rite of passage. Every horror fan has a “first time I saw The Texas Chainsaw Massacre” story, same as parrot-heads have a “first time I heard Margaritaville” story (and consequently a “first time I realized that I was an 50-year-old drunk with too much money” story). At fourteen my friend and I raided his miscellanea-riddled attic in the midst of a caffeine-fueled all-nighter. Our plunder was a pillowcase that we were certain was crusted with dried blood, a couple of Slayer tapes and coverless VHS copy of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. I crashed about a third of the way in, but I kept waking to screams and chainsaw sounds, watching grizzly pandemonium and then slipping back into unconsciousness. I remember waking up at dawn as the end of the film played and wondering how it had come to this blood-drenched girl literally raving mad as she fled from the dancing Leatherface into the too-orange dawn and not being sure if I had seen that fat man blow raspberries at his peers or just dreamed it. I was sure that I would be watching the film again.

The movie is just off-kilter enough to make sure that you, the viewer, are interested without ever reaching a disenchanting moment of absurdity. It is, after all, based on highly exaggerated fact, and the reality is driven home by details. The setting, the characters, the plot, the unique but believable look and feel of the movie all amalgamate into this wild awful thing, but the details are what make it just right. The jittery muscle spasms you see after blunt force trauma to the head are a real phenomenon. The jerk of being dropped onto a meat hook yips with reality. Those bones you are seeing are real human bones (ordered from India according to the commentary; one wonders how much director Tobe Hooper worked on Return of the Living Dead before leaving the project). The movie is a complex recipe but all the ingredients are on full display, there are just too many to get mix correct again. So, it’s forgivable that other filmmakers have been unsuccessfully trying to emulate it ever since; it’s too hard not to (but you can at least try not to Rob. Come on man, seriously).

Maire	Corey	Salty
☆☆	☆☆☆	☆☆