What was left of them: ‘The Texas Chain Saw Massacre’ turns 50 - The Boston Globe (2024)

My eyes drifted toward the giant words emblazoned next to this image: “Who will survive and what will be left of them?”

That was my introduction to 1974′s “The Texas Chain Saw Massacre,” which turned 50 on Oct. 11. Tobe Hooper’s terrifying masterpiece was re-released by New Line Cinema, the self-proclaimed “House that Freddy Built.” That explains why I crossed paths with it in 1981. The Coolidge Corner Theatre is hosting a special anniversary screening of Hooper’s midnight movie classic this Friday.

Before New Line introduced me to Freddy Krueger in 1984, it turned me on to another homicidal horror movie maniac, the chain-saw-wielding cannibal, Leatherface (Gunnar Hansen). He and his family torment a group of young people who make the mistake of visiting the wrong Texas town. Texas is well-known for its barbecue stands, and Leatherface’s crew runs a place that serves the other white meat.

And, no, I don’t mean pork.

However, on this particular day, I only got a taste of the nightmares that would plague me after I discovered those gruesome plot details. My aunt sent me out to get some popcorn, which meant I had to pass the theater playing “The Texas Chain Saw Massacre.” On the way, I was met by a teenage girl returning to that theater from the concession stand. In one hand, she held a large soda; in the other, she held the hand of a boy around 6 or 7 who looked like 1970s icon Rodney Allen Rippy.

I stopped to let her open the door, hoping to catch a glimpse of the screen. Unfortunately, the door opened outward, obscuring my view. I could only hear the movie. What awful sounds emanated from that theater! Chain saws buzzing! Women screaming! The audience profanely yelling out instructions to run!

I was so mesmerized I didn’t realize why I was getting an extended aural preview: The kid was resisting his guardian’s attempt to pull him back into the theater. His attempt was accompanied by grunts of protest that sounded like “Urr! Urrr!”

I watched this scene unfold with mild amusement. And then the kid turned and looked at me. We made eye contact, and what I saw haunts me to this day.

Help me, his eyes pleaded. Please help me.

Suddenly, the poor kid disappeared with a violent flourish. The door slammed loudly behind him. I never saw him again.

I stood there a moment — I believe I was in shock — before muttering to myself “holy BLEEP! I gotta see this movie!”

Be careful what you wish for. My cousin and I returned to the State, sneaking into “The Texas Chain Saw Massacre” because it was rated R. We had no idea we were about to see one of the scariest movies ever made. By this time, we were hardened by slasher movies, giallos, and zombie-filled gorefests, yet we soon discovered we were in over our heads.

My terrified reaction is funny when you consider how implicitly the violence is rendered here. Legend has it Hooper asked the MPAA how he could hang a person on a meathook and still get a PG rating. The short answer is, you cannot.

But damn if Hooper didn’t try anyway. As he did in his 1979 miniseries adaptation of Stephen King’s “Salem’s Lot,” and the underrated 1981 carnival horror movie “The Funhouse,” Hooper worked wonders with misdirection; that is, making you think you saw what he didn’t actually show you.

That unlucky character has a rendezvous with Leatherface’s meathook, but just as she’s being formally introduced, Hooper cuts quickly to a closeup of her eyes widening in horror. Rather than show the gruesome impact, we see her reaction instead. This made the scene far worse, at least for me. I can still feel that hook going into my 11-year-old back.

In fact, “The Texas Chain Saw Massacre” is far less gory than the title promises. Outside of some very gross images in the opening scene, and its Final Girl, Sally (Marilyn Burns), covered in blood by the film’s end, the movie is practically gore-free. The low budget resulted in a gritty, grungy, documentary-like feel and a sense of queasy unease.

The title also hints at much more chain saw carnage than we get. Just one person, the wheelchair-bound Franklin (Paul A. Partain), is murdered with the tool, and the only time you see a chain saw make contact with flesh is when Leatherface accidentally cuts himself during the film’s unbearably long climactic chase sequence.

The intensity of that chase is where “The Texas Chain Saw Massacre” earns its deserved classic status. Burns is game, jumping through windows and running for what seems like an eternity. The interiors of the Leatherface clan’s house is a masterwork of set design by Robert Burns, filled with bones and filth (and Jim Siedow as a really creepy grandfather). The actors all express fear convincingly, presumably because Hansen was wielding a live chain saw!

The most horrible moment I’ve ever seen occurs in this movie. The film’s first victim enters Leatherface’s house, where he’s suddenly met by the killer in a doorway; the poor guy gets hit with a sledgehammer (as if he were cattle) but we only hear the impact. Hooper immediately cuts to the guy’s legs violently convulsing in his death throes. Then, Leatherface slams the door, robbing the viewer of what comes next.

I was almost physically ill when that happened. Maybe it was because it reminded me of poor Rodney Allen Rippy’s doppelganger being yanked behind the door of the same theater I was sitting inside. He was lucky — he only got the onscreen version of Leatherface.

Odie Henderson is the Boston Globe's film critic.