[Review] Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2022)
Directed by David Blue Garcia (Tejano) and produced by Fede Alvarez (Evil Dead, Don’t Breathe), this year’s Texas Chainsaw Massacre follows a group of youths on a road trip to Harlow, Texas where they look to build a zoomer utopia. Unbeknownst to them, Old Man Leatherface has found refuge in the near-deserted community following the discovery of his crimes nearly fifty years prior. The plot moves as expected. Overly confident and insistent on meddling where they shouldn’t, the group meets the killer on his own property. As these two worlds intersect, our protagonists must quickly reconcile the consequences of their doomed project.
Garcia is no stranger to making films that continuously thrust people into violent situations. In the Texas Chainsaw Massacre’s opening moments, the director maintains a steady pace before escalating tension. Bucking the washed-out imagery that has dominated the series in the 21st century, Garcia’s dynamic approach to color, lighting, and composition is a welcome change. His grasp of the sparse environment provides a crucial backdrop to the cultural disconnect between the locals of Harlow and our invasive protagonists.
The film certainly has a load on its mind, from which a litany of questions spring forth. Is it possible to find true independence in a ghost town? Does hate for the “other” supersede the need to survive a chainsaw wielding maniac? Is it a misnomer to refer to the killer as “Leatherface” if the skin he’s wearing isn’t properly cured? The answers are all wildly perplexing. Given the franchise’s reputation, this should come as no surprise. But that doesn’t keep the latest entry from being a misfire.
For the uninitiated, a Texas Chainsaw Massacre sequel can be anything from garish and bombastic to hopelessly misanthropic. In truly loving (or hating) the series, one has to accept this range of extremes. For those of us who were giddily awaiting the scene from the trailer where Leatherface is “canceled,” this new film meets us with a disappointing lack of commitment to the bit. Worse, it is rudderless in a sea of social commentary masked as satire. This time around, part of the twist is that Leatherface isn’t the frenzied beast set loose by a family of deceitful cannibals. Likely influenced by his adoptive mother (Alice Kirge), the man behind the dead skin mask exhibits a more subdued behavior. The killer is only prompted into another rampage after her death, which results from a land dispute with our young gentrifiers.
Though we are treated to an ensuing culture clash between laughably hapless liberals and gun-toting conservatives, Texas Chainsaw Massacre never engages in any worthwhile observations. The film sets its sights on an array of political agendas–from a ham-fisted “heritage versus hate” debate, to characterizing one lead as a survivor of a school shooting–and misses every target. Clearly, its sensibilities are working to provoke ire among everyone who watches it, ensuring the film has an audience of none. This is most unfortunate for each of the young performers, who attempt to give the material a boost of honesty. But their respective characters are too flimsy to carry the weight they’re saddled with.
There is far too much going on in the script for any aspect of its story to make an impact. Even Olwen Fouéré’s version of Sally Hardesty is a regrettable casualty of this lack of cohesion. Having spent most of her life in search of Leatherface, Sheriff Hardesty springs to action after hearing a distress call. Her appearance (and exit) in the film is surprisingly inconsequential, though she does drag with her a ghoulish reappropriation of ubiquitous “say their names” chants in reference to Leatherface’s victims.
It doesn’t require too vast of an imagination to see where Leatherface fits in 2022. The big man’s franchise has always relied on a blend of absurdity and gross-out gags to promote themes of social alienation. Instead, the most generous read one can give this new film is that it is reflective of disingenuous conversations swirling around the social toilet of the United States at any given time. The subject of horror as a political vehicle is not up for debate to any serious fan or scholar. It also hasn’t had a negative side effect in terms of box office receipts, nebulous streaming data aside. Yet the degree to which name brand horror films seem to only gesture at current events is a cynical exercise that has long been observed.
At a little over 80 minutes, Texas Chainsaw Massacre is lean and mean with the intent to disgust. Often, what is most enjoyable about it is seeing how wet and chunky the human body can be mid-destruction. And where the on-screen talent is concerned, watching horror newcomers like Elsie Fisher and Sarah Yarkin wrangle their way out of La Casa Leatherface is a treat. If “Saw is Family” is significant to you in any way, you’re liable to just scarf the whole bloody thing down without a second thought. At this point in the franchise, however, it’s safe to say that the new entry is just one in a long line that resembles a big ol’ hunk of headcheese. Made up entirely of discarded bits and less appetizing the more you ponder what’s inside.
