Stream It Or Skip It: ‘Texas Chainsaw Massacre’ on Netflix, a Sequel (or Whatever) That’s Satisfyingly Slaughter-Happy

Here’s how to differentiate Netflix’s Texas Chainsaw Massacre from the other films with the same title: It dropped the “the.” (Be thankful that your EAGLE-EYED Decider film critics at large are here to deliver such hot, steaming, crucial information. What, I ask, would you do without us?) As far as where exactly it fits into this nine-film franchise, though? You’re on your own to herd those cats. Producer/co-scripter Fede Alvarez says the new movie is a direct sequel to Tobe Hooper’s 1974 original, although it’s set in the current day, so timelines and continuity and the exact age of that lovable old scamp Leatherface are all foggy and smudgy. Of course, this convo is all much ado about nothing, because there’s only one reason we’re here: THE KILLS, baby, THE KILLS!

TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT?

The Gist: DATELINE: HARLOW, TEXAS. This place is a time capsule. Nothing has changed except for a mass exodus of most of the population. In a shitty old gas station, a video on a shitty old TV details the shitty old story of unsolved murders from 1973. You know the one. The one where the guy wearing someone else’s face on top of his own face got a little nutty with the power tools. Sally Hardesty (Olwen Fouere) was the lone survivor; she became a Texas Ranger who spent her life trying to find the guy who cut up her friends like cordwood. Her pursuits were more fruitless than a barren orchard, thank god, or we might not be watching this damned f—ing movie right now.

But Texas Chainsaw Massacre is not about Sally. (Well, it’s a little bit about Sally; her presence isn’t significant until after the Spoiler Threshold.) It’s about four millennials who aren’t entirely terrible people, but they are dumb as a bag o’ bolts. Melody (Sarah Yarkin) and Dante (Jacob Latimore) are entrepreneurs brokering Harlow’s boarded-up storefronts in hopes of refurbing a ghost town into a hipster haven with restaurants, art galleries and comic book stores. Along for the ride are Lila (Elsie Fisher), Melody’s younger sister, and Ruth (Nell Hudson), Dante’s girlfriend – although one gets the sense their names might soon be Mud.

Our cheery protags have arranged a busload of victi- er, investors to assemble on the dusty Main St., where the properties will be auctioned off. First order of business, though, is to head on up to the second floor of the old orphanage and pull down that Confederate flag before the people with the money eyeball it and vamoose the f— back to Austin. Question: Are Melody and co. documenting their endeavor on social media? Of course they are, because what kind of millennial wouldn’t, and therefore feed Gen X lust to watch influencers get buzzsawed for BBQ?

Problem: The town ain’t quite abandoned. There’s a somewhat, shall we say, crimson-naped gent, Richter (Moe Dunford), who might be helpful in case anything should happen – no spoilers! – because he has guns. Also, an ancient woman (Alice Krige) and a hulking behemoth (Mark Burnham) still live in the orphanage, and no, the big guy isn’t Baby Huey, or Lenny from Of Mice and Men, but your third guess is probably spot-on. And right on schedule, the busful of fresh meat arrives, and everyone lives happily ever after, sipping their artisanal mochaccinos in gentrified Harlow, and there isn’t a scene in which a terrified young woman runs through a kitchen in a shot with a MEAT CLEAVER in the FOREGROUND. Nope. Just farm-to-table dining on Instagram from here on out!

What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: Alvarez doesn’t direct this Massacre – that’s on David Blue Garcia – but he offered a similar reinvigoration of an old franchise with 2013’s not-half-bad Evil Dead. The Sally Hardesty arc is right next to Halloween’s Laurie Strode in the pantheon of revisitations of survivors who became crazy, but crazy-strong old ladies. (And if any horror franchise surpasses Texas Chainsaw Massacre in the befuddling continuity sweepstakes, it’s Halloween.)

We also probably need to address where this movie stands among all the other Texas Chainsaws, not that I’ve seen them all, because god, why would I? Nothing will ever hold a candle to the original Chain Saw Massacre, of course, and its 1986 sequel has its VHS-era charms. And nothing will ever be worse than the mid-’00s reboot and its prequel, which were just chasing that post-Saw torture-porn money.

Performance Worth Watching: We love Elsie Fisher for her extraordinary work in Eighth Grade, so be thankful her character here has some depth: She’s a school-shooting survivor who shares a thoughtful exchange with good ol’ boy Richter, where they show some dimension that’s outside the cardboard norm of slasher flicks like this.

Memorable Dialogue: Pragmatists vs. dreamers:

Richter: So are you guys a cult?

Ruth: We’re idealistic individuals who want to build a better world!

Richter: Yeah, that’s a cult.

Sex and Skin: None. The only thing that gets yanked here is the pull cord on a chainsaw.

Our Take: Alvarez and co. stir a bunch of culture-war red herrings into this stew of guts and compound fractures: Gentrification commentary, racial tensions, liberal/conservative cityfolk/countryfolk divides, etc. The film is nonpartisan in discussions about social media, perhaps because it boasts several nifty iconic shots ripe to be memed. Where such fodder is mostly scattershot satire, the film more seriously addresses mental health, creating parallel traumas with Sally and Lila, although its solution – gotta face your demons before they eat you up – is a little too regressively Psych 101. And that ties into Lila’s inevitable brandishing of a machine gun for the sake of her survival, which only muddies any gun control discussion – although I guess you can take it deeper into metaphor and say that no amount of bullets will ever remove evil from this mortal plane, an evil symbolized by an unstoppable force like Leatherface.

Mostly though, speaking of Leatherface, this Texas Chainsaw is less social commentary, more sadistic comedy. Which leads us to, yes, THE KILLS, baby, which are nasty, ferocious, gore-drenched and just plain impolite. Our anti-hero uses a cleaver, a knife, a hammer – I’m bummed to say it’s not a peen hammer, but some type of sledge – his damn bare hands and of course his signature implement, which thankfully hasn’t been 21st-centuried to a rechargeable electric version, because it probably wouldn’t quite have the power to so keenly rabbet through bone. Garcia leverages some palpable suspense, maintains an uptempo pace and wraps the whole shebang in a lean, mean 81 minutes, counting the credits. He also directs the hell out of the movie’s keynote sequence, set on the big Greyhound bus, and without giving too much away, let’s just say that it doesn’t go well for the passengers, but goes quite smashingly for Leatherface.

I have to admit I laughed my ass off at this thing. It offers absolutely nothing new, but effectively hones and shapes the slasher craft for modern audiences. As for the lampoonery of post-Trump America? Whatever – you kind of have to admire its old-school adherence to equal-opportunity butchery. If you have a pulse, Leatherface will spill your blood. Gorehounds will love it, and it may double as an appetite suppressant for the high fructose corn syrup era. I call that a win-win.

Our Call: STREAM IT. Texas Chainsaw Massacre exceeds expectations by a scintilla or three. Horror movies don’t have to reinvent the small-engine yard tool in order to be entertaining.

John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Read more of his work at johnserbaatlarge.com.