Texas Chainsaw Millennial Massacre

Slashers are truly a dying genre. Filmmakers today struggle to recreate the corny magic of the gore-filled chaos the 70s and 80s put on the silver screen. Yet, bless them, they still try. With that said, the ninth installment of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre dropped this weekend, and spoiler alert: It’s a requel. Yay.

Functioning as somewhat of a direct sequel to Tobe Hooper’s 1974 classic of the same name, the film bears little resemblance to its predecessor. Instead of five teens in a van on the backroads of Texas, the film follows a group of hip, Northern, and almost immediately unlikeable entrepreneurs. Traipsing their way into the ghost town of Harlow, Texas, with a plan to create an artisan hipster retreat, they immediately create tensions with locals. From their first interactions with local denizens, the characters seem ignorant of their surroundings. It all comes to a head in Harlow when an argument leads to the inadvertent death of Leatherface’s adoptive mother. While ignorance is a common theme in slasher movies, the way these characters were written sounds as if somebody asked the Political Right to create them. They’re Millennial caricatures, and it’s tough to feel empathy for these people when their actions and arrogance directly cause the carnage to come.

As for the writing, TCM isn’t going to be winning any Pulitzers. The film’s mythos contradicts itself in the first five minutes, stating Sally Hardesty (sole survivor of the 1974 film) had not spoken of what happened to her in 40 years, before almost immediately asserting that she became a Texas Ranger in order to hunt down Leatherface. Hardesty herself does show up, but she feels shallow and boring. Despite arriving guns drawn and loaded for bear, her blind need for revenge makes her reckless, and she is quickly dispatched by Leatherface in one of the more comical attacks of the movie. Her death is abrupt, though, and it feels more than a little cheap, as though Sally was just a loose end that needed tying up.

Yet, the film does have its moments. The kill scenes are bloody and fun, and they definitely deliver on the massacre the title promises. Leatherface is a brutal force of nature as he should be, and a bit sneakier as well, showing he is capable of simple planning on his own, which feels like a new facet to the character. Though he seems to have some strange, muddled code of ethics when it comes to who will feel his wrath, nobody is safe if you stand in his way, and that makes him unpredictable.

TCM also shines cinematically. Taking a more polished film direction than its bleak and grainy predecessor, it delivers several beautiful scenes reminiscent of more surreal films like Hereditary and Midsommar. Wilted sunflowers are a prevalent motif around the town of Harlow, which is itself a beautiful set piece. Primarily a 50s Main Street with beautiful Southwest facades and glowing neon, It is a feast for the eyes. Meanwhile, the beautifully rugged landscape surrounding all of it is well-captured in shots of the horizon and distant hills.

Despite stellar cinematography though, the film has trouble setting an atmosphere. It lacks the genuine, creeping despair of the original, opting instead for an almost rapid pace that causes side plots and characters to run into dead ends. TCM feels as though it is trying to be sleek and modern, commenting on several social issues and shoehorning in a backstory about a school shooting that seems to come from left field. The end result is an awkward mess that feels rushed.

Slasher movies aren’t meant to be deep commentaries on society at large; nor are they supposed to have any meaning beyond what they set before you. It seems that 2022’s The Texas Chainsaw Massacre tried to do both of those things. Brush away the debris of that crash and burn, though, and there are enough fun moments cobbled together here to make TCM a fun one to laugh at with a group of friends and a few drinks.