Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2022)

Director: David Blue Garcia
Starring: Sarah Yarkin, Elsie Fisher, Mark Burnham, Moe Dunford, Nell Hudson, Olwen Fouéré, Jessica Allain, Jacob Latimore, Alice Krige
Running Time: 81 min.
Rating: R

★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

It's gotten to the point where you have to wonder when they'll get one of these right again. Taking a page or two from David Gordon Green's recent Halloween reboot, Netflix's reimagining or quasi-sequel to 1974's The Texas Chain Saw Massacre isn't the worst effort we've seen in the franchise. There are more than a handful of entries deserving of that label, but the decision to essentially ignore those in favor of a fresh sequel to Tobe Hooper's horror classic seems awfully familiar. The theory that what worked for Michael Myers must be good enough for Leatherface is seriously tested by director David Blue Garcia and screenwriter Chris Thomas Devlin in this latest incarnation. Leatherface isn't The Shape, so that this take on him becomes indistinguishable from just about any other slasher villain is probably the film's biggest fault. 

TCM isn't nearly as bound to its own tangled mythology as Halloween and can probably afford to slack off a little more, but that doesn't necessarily mean it should. Taken as just another horror installment, major parts of it work, like some performances, the gore, its overall look and an appropriately unsettling score from Hereditary's Colin Stetson. Clocking in at a manageable 81 minutes, it feels about that, and isn't so much terrible as derivative, likely bolstering the argument Netflix has comfortably settled into its role as a soullessly automated content generator. That's not entirely fair, as Fear Street: 1978 has already proven that the streamer's capable of successfully producing a throwback slasher with vision. But this just doesn't quite meet that standard. 

Over forty years after the events of the original film (with John Larroquette again providing his iconic opening narration), Melody (Sarah Yarkin), her emotionally fragile sister Lila (Eighth Grade's Elsie Fisher) their friend Dante (Jacob Latimore) and his girlfriend Ruth (Nell Hudson) all arrive in Harlow, Texas to renovate the small, abandoned town. With a busload of Gen Z influencers on their way to check out the area, they run into an elderly homeowner (Alice Krige) who refuses to leave her home, which also just so happens to be the residence of a certain chainsaw wielding maniac named Leatherface (Mark Burnham). But when she's carried out by police after a medical emergency, he snaps, wrecking havoc and chopping up victims along the way. Aside from grizzled local mechanic Richter (Moe Dunford), the best candidate to stop him is the sole survivor of Leatherface's '74 massacre, Sally Hardesty (Olwen Fouéré), now a seasoned Texas Ranger who's been waiting decades to extract her revenge. Now she may finally get the chance, if he doesn't kill everyone in town first.     

The ninth installment in the franchise is an improvement over a recent few of them and starts off promisingly enough, aside from introducing main characters who initially come off as a spoiled, crass and unlikable in their opening scenes. That's basically a horror trope now so it comes as a relief that the script sort of backpedals on it, with one of them displaying something that actually resembles human empathy and a conscience. Using the impending gentrification of this small town as a narrative hook isn't the worst idea, and in terms of setting, there's a novelty in seeing nearly all of the film's action take place on a single studio backlot. That's typically not something worthy of praise, but it works in this instance, recreating the desolate atmosphere associated with an abandoned town forgotten by time. 

There's an odd subplot involving the past trauma of a school shooting that probably seemed like a decent idea on paper until you actually see it uncomfortably play out through flashbacks. To her credit, Elsie Fisher does her best with that as the outwardly fragile little sister to the more assertive, spunky Melody, who's really well played by relative newcomer Sarah Yarkin. A stunningly charismatic presence, she brings a different, welcome energy, and if a slasher's only as good as its Final Girl (which I won't reveal whether she is), than at least this box could be checked in its favor. Both actresses deserve better, but their believable sisterly bond is probably the film's highlight, even as Devlin's script seems to have this odd preoccupation with guns. Suggesting that's due to any political underpinnings would probably be giving this more credit than it deserves, as it's hard to believe the filmmakers were deeply interested in exploring any kind of serious social commentary, which is probably a relief. 

The look of Leatherface is a nothing short of a disaster, more closely resembling a cross between Sloth from The Goonies and Wrinkles The Clown than the imposing maniac that's been depicted in even the franchise's lowliest entries. Worse yet, they strip the character of whatever mystique remained by re-introducing him unmasked, putting further emphasis on the fact that an accurate timeline would have Leatherface pushing nearly 80. for some reason they also seem to go out of their way to present him sympathetically, emphasizing his fragile state to the point where he's depicted with almost a sense of childlike wonder, causing us to question who the movie's really rooting for. 

It's unfair to pin any of this on actor Mark Burnham, who's just following the creative direction laid out for Leatherface, and while we could argue all day whether the film shows too much gore (a debate that's long followed this franchise), his kill scenes are well filmed and Garcia creates a mood reminiscent of 2014's far superior, similarly Texas-set The Town That Dreaded Sundown meta sequel. Technically, that's a smart approach, but the narrative's emptier, especially as it relates to the return of TCM original, Sally Hardesty, in a capacity so clearly patterned off Jamie Lee Curtis' recent turn, she may as well be wearing a name badge that reads,"L. Strode."

Olwen Fouéré is suitable in this underwritten Sally role, even resembling how an older version of her would look, but this hardened interpretation just screams Halloween 2018, but more sloppily executed and shoehorned in. Besides the character of Sally hardly being the equivalent of Laurie in importance or long-standing franchise prominence, nearly every hardcore TCM fan (and probably some casual ones) already know the original actress who played her, Marilyn Burns, sadly passed away eight years ago. Obviously, that's no one's fault, but the recasting does dilute the exact kind of continuity this screenplay was going for, drawing even more attention to its misplaced aspirations to emulate modern slasher requels like Halloween and Scream. 

Had this instead stuck to the more promising elements within the newer storyline and limited its canonical references to the passing, but effective early acknowledgments of the '74 massacre, this could have been a much less messy effort. Sally's presence is almost more of a complication than its worth, again raising questions about ages and inaccurate timelines. While the producers have commented that nothing here negates any of the original's sequels (so we should assume the '03 Jessica Biel-starring remake never happened?), but that just makes this more confusing, muddying the waters of what should be a simple concept. 

There's a big centerpiece sequence involving a van slaughter we all know is coming, but nonetheless remains visually arresting and suspenseful, as the vehicle fills up with victims' blood while Stetson's score and Ricardo Diaz's cinematography become as much a character as anyone involved. If not for being nearly undone by a lame social media gag beforehand, it provides a great template for how the entire picture should have gone. Instead it's more one step forward, two steps back much of the way through, but still a far cry from the completely irredeemable garbage pile you heard it is. The closing scenes aren't great, as it settles into a more rote, predictable slasher formula, disappointing us with what the filmmakers had in mind all along. 

The best news to come out of this might be that the aforementioned social media references are fairly scarce and fall short of our worst expectations. Other than a couple of cringy moments of dialogue, it thankfully takes a backseat much of the way through. Unfortunately, the usual lack of suspense and restraint that's been evident in nearly every installment remains, despite being a slickly made piece of entertainment that actually holds up pretty well against the series' most embarrassing outings. The latest TCM tries to squeeze a lot into a limited time, managing to both frustrate and briefly impress before succumbing to the franchise's more problematic instincts.