It’s pretty safe to say that horror movies are responsible for shaping many specific moments in our childhood. Because so, and as horror is a part of nearly every culture, each generation has its own catalogue of horror tropes that define which “scary movie gave us chills when we were kids.” Maybe it was a head turning in The Exorcist, a mimic monster in the snows of The Thing, or a ghost girl emerging from the TV in The Ring. There’s plenty more. We’ve all got one and sharing our anecdotes about them is fun.
This article tells of one such personal story, that of one of modern horror’s first iconic displays of dread. And, in keeping with my theme, among the many moments I explored while deciding which horror moment I wanted to approach, I went to one directly linked to my childhood. Bear with me as I tell the tale.
I belong to a generation that grew up among reruns on Venezuelan public TV channels of every Freddy Krueger film they could their hands on, and then show it on Sunday nights full of cuts and crappy dubbing. However, I always went a little further because my father insisted so, believing in the excitement that horror carries, and in doing so, I found there definitely was more than what I was able to see at first glance. Give me slashers, vampires, ghosts, and all the variations beyond. All were welcome. But even with all that, I still hadn’t come upon something defining.
The first time I learned out about The Texas Chain Saw Massacre was around 1994. I was twelve years old and curiosity forced me into a daily check of a unique book my father owned. It was called Cult Films and among the plethora of movie-related books my father collected, this was the one that had it all: nudity, violence, John Waters. Every time I read through it I found something new, and of course, I tried to get my hands on every movie chronicled inside.
During one of those investigations I came across the existence of The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. The Tobe Hooper classic was impossible to find in my small hometown and cable services didn’t even dare to show it. Naturally, it became the movie I most wanted to see so when I found out my father was going to do some travelling, I asked him for one thing and one thing only: a VHS tape of The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. Then I added one note to my request: please make it the uncut version (I know, I was naïve).
A couple of months later I got the tape. I actually prepared myself to watch it, turning down the lights and waiting until I was alone. When I saw it, it was like I’d made a historic discovery – I finally understood the genre. This is a moment I will cherish forever and will carry always with me. This moment became my definition of horror, loaded with that obligatory sense of dread a good horror movie must generate.
The Texas Chain Saw Massacre is an everlasting classic of cult horror that launched the career of its director and a franchise that is still alive to the day. Based on a script by Hooper and Kim Henkel, and inspired by true events related to the twisted life of Ed Gein, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre tells the tale of a group of friends who become victims of a very strange family on the outskirts of Texas. Regarded as one of the first slasher films to be banned due to its on screen violence, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre would change the game on a large scale. It set new standards where, in every sense, horror movies had to go bigger.
Now, in all this, there is a certain moment in the movie that marked the beginning of a new age in horror movies for me. Yes, my choice is arguable of course because for some, maybe it’s not as shocking, and the movie contains other scenes that can be regarded as more scary or even more important. This is a personal opinion and my intention is not to force a change of perspective. Just hear me out.
The film is 83 minutes long and not much in the way of horror in its first half hour. However, a bizarre encounter with a hitchhiker could not mean anything but bad news, and some strong imagery cautions us about a weird fascination with corpses in the area. At minute 33, two of the friends, Kirk (William Vail) and Pam (Teri McMinn) are exploring a remote house that’s running on a generator. The girl is affected by the heat as her boyfriend insists on letting someone know they’re here. Oddly, a tooth drops on the floor, which he just picks up, scaring off his girlfriend from the porch, disgusted by the object. Now he’s standing there all alone.
He then opens the front door and we get our initial glimpse into the house where animal skins and skulls are mounted on a red wall. A darkness mixes with an almost tangible heat that make our vision fuzzy. The young man takes a look inside and shouts “hello” again. No answer. But he suspects something’s not right inside and prompts his girlfriend to come back and take a look. Of course, she refuses.
Now it’s time to come inside. Another attempt at “hello,” only this time Kirk hears something. But what? Is it the same generator? Or is it an engine inside the house? Then, animal grunts. Is it a pig? Is it even an animal? Whatever it is, it seems to be suffering. Anxiety increases as Kirk decides to go and explore what’s behind the wall filled with animal skulls, horns and other ornaments. Bad choice. Stepping forward, he trips inside and stumbles on the ramp leading up to the mysterious backroom. Then, from the dark, a large figure appears. Holding a blunt hammer. Our first look at Leatherface (Gunnar Hansen.)
Kirk’s panicky face fades in the dark while this giant of a man lifts up the sledgehammer and strikes the first blow onto Kirk’s exposed head. A crunching sound leads us to believe the hit was more than effective as the he falls to the floor and begins convulsing while blood flows from his wound. Leatherface decides to just keep hitting him to make it all stop and then drags the body towards the backroom. When there’s nothing else to block the doorway, he grips a metal door and, with a monstrous and inhuman rage, slams it shut. The sound melts into the mute soundtrack as the lingering sound effect fades out the scene, morphing into a baritone growl on the score. However, the only thing you can hear is your heart racing, followed by one of the film’s most beautiful visuals, a dolly shot following Pam as she heads toward the house to her own fate.
It’s not that horror scenes didn’t exist in the seventies. There were plenty of those and midnight cinemas showed them profusely. Only one year before, Regan McNeil had been the victim of possession and audiences had flooded movie theaters. However, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre was the controversial gore show that made mainstream audiences understand the effect of exploitation pictures, and actually embraced them. The Last House on the Left had been a brutal depiction of crime that critics and the press hadn’t forgiven. Now The Texas Chain Saw Massacre had also used the film’s graphic content to create a whole marketing scheme based on fear, and it worked. Massively.
Still considered one of the best horror movies in history, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre marked the point of conception for the genre as the one where anything was allowed as long as movie theaters were able to show it. Films in the seventies were going through a suspicious lack of consideration by some ratings organizations and so, the heavy stuff was actually getting shown. The Texas Chain Saw Massacre infused the spectacle of on screen murders with a dense backdrop of disturbing consequences. The film’s most famous scene is that of a distressing dinner, in which we come to meet the family that ultimately ends up being more brutal than the cold blooded killer wielding a chain saw.
So, why not pick another moment? It’s a mix of personal reaction and an almost poetic and sensible introduction to terror. In that memorable decision of Hooper to make Leatherface an insatiable monster with just one motion, there’s an invitation to something deep inside the dark soul of someone who decides to end a life. Perhaps, the most disturbing aspect of Leatherface, when compared to other slasher icons, is the fact that his rulings are aimless and don’t follow a certain pattern. This lack of judgment and the extraordinary strength he shows in that door slams makes my blood curdle. I still remember my reaction of stopping the tape and having to rest for a few minutes while I imagined what Leatherface was doing behind the metal door. That door slam confirmed the genre.
Now, let’s go back a bit. Remember that trip my father made where he bought me a copy of The Texas Chain Saw Massacre? Well, that wasn’t the only movie he carried home in his bags. As a surprise a second tape was inside, one that contained a scene that also scarred me for life. But that’s another story for another day.