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Retrospectives

Retrospective: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974)

To say that The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) helped shape the horror genre as we know and love it today would be an understatement. The film essentially tore through the screen and cascaded its way into the veins of genre cinema and aided in its stellar, magnetising and polarising reputation. Although its 50th anniversary is on the horizon, its reputation as a solid classic has never been more significant. 

The man behind the camera, Tobe Hooper, first conceived the idea for the film in the early seventies whilst he was working as an assistant director at the University of Texas at Austin. Enchanted by the mystery of rural isolation, darkened woods and the macabre nature of the human condition, Hooper took to sketching out film plots. His narrative would mould into shape over the years, but one focus that he kept true throughout was the aspect of real horror. One essence of storied evil came from the crimes by serial killer Ed Gein, whose reign of mutilation and murder gripped the nation since his attacks began in 1950s Wisconsin. 

With a rough idea in mind, Hooper enlisted his friend and fellow film creator Kim Henkel to flesh out what would soon be a titular force in the world of horror. Upon the trials and tribulations of funding, eventually, the pair eventually produced the film for around $140,000. Due to the scope of the project and the somewhat limited budget, the film developed an all-hands-on-deck mentality where the cast and crew gave themselves to a gruelling filming schedule and journey. With a dream of developing a contentious project for the time, the relatively unknown cast was deployed to Texas where they took over a farmhouse and its land where the southern humidity reached temperatures of 43°C; keep in mind that the shooting schedule consisted of 16 hour days, 7 days a week! 

In keeping with the authenticity of it all, the various horror paraphernalia seen throughout the film such as the copious amounts of blood, bones and gore were more often than not real. The blood seen splashed up against the walls in the dreaded farmhouse was real animal blood obtained from slaughterhouses. To further aid in the genuity of it all, the crew would often traverse the local gravel ways of the area to scour and collect the decomposing remains of roadkill and dumped cattle carcases to decorate the set. As if that wasn’t enough, a few scenes refrained from practical effects and opted for unstimulated violence, for example, during one scene a tube was supposed to secrete blood, however, due to technical malfunctions the tube failed, therefore, the lead actress, Marilyn Burns, and Hooper decided it would be best to instead slice her finger open with a razor blade to achieve the desired finish.

 Despite all the antics and devilment that ensued onscreen, the film managed to pull in a successful run at theatres, becoming the twelfth highest-grossing film of 1974. It has been reported that a large part of the film’s success and consequential issues with censorship regimes were owed to its misconception of factuality. The opening title crawl recounts that the film is a real account, based on a ‘true story’, leading to plenty of lore regarding its origins amongst cinemagoers. Eventually, the UK’s classification board, the BBFC, banned the film, citing that it advocated for “abnormal psychology”. It was not until the early 1980s that the film was released on video, however, due to the 1984 video nasties panic, the film was once again removed from public access. 

As the years rolled on and the censorship on horror loosened, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre became one of the most iconic pieces of cinema to exist. Featuring on nearly every ‘best film of all time’ list and garnering a protected and beloved status amongst all, Hooper’s once sordid feature has become a renowned classic. Many readings have circulated about the film, particularly surrounding the final girl philosophy, ‘urbanoia’ hysteria, and how the film spoke to the socio-political landscape at the time. Traversing back to the film’s title crawl – “the film you are about to see is true”, serves great significance in its diegesis. Hooper cites that the falsified warning was reminiscent of the misinformation of truth being spread to civilisation during the 1960s/1970s.

Hooper commented on how the news surrounding the Watergate scandal and the Vietnam War led to many believing whatever agenda the press wanted one to believe, with society often overlooking the hidden atrocities at the time. In a similar vein, he also took to explaining how the horror in the film was of man’s creations, not a make-believe creature, again, taking aim at humanity’s own deadliness. As it stands today, fifty years on, this undertone of commentary still remains potent, with the film’s explorations of the transgressive speaking to many of the world’s events as of now. 

Moving onto a more creative framing, the film has served as a baseboard for the slasher genre. Many filmmakers have explicitly stated their inspirational admiration of Texas Chainsaw’, such as Rob Zombie’s Firefly trilogy. One rather obvious locus of devotion to Hooper’s classic is the film’s franchise expansion. The franchise boasts a whopping nine films, along with a successful video game spin-off, comics and books, leading to the series joining the likes of cinematic universes such as Halloween and Friday the 13th. Although some entries remain more successful than others, such as the brilliant Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 (1986), the original remains the undefeated champion. 

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre’s contemporary reception is living proof of its indefinitely popular reception, with the film even being admitted into the Horror Hall of Fame (1990), serving as a recognised exemplary piece of filmmaking. Even aspects that seem elemental in the film still hold great traction after all this time. Think of the iconic character of Leatherface, the great force of antagonism. His character has been under the spotlight for years, with his psyche being analysed and relayed multiple times. Many see his villainy as being a product of his environment, where his actions do not necessarily come from a place of banality, but from a place of misunderstanding. Regardless of his ethos, what stands for many is how he is at the root of much of the film’s stunning aesthetic.

The film’s concluding scene shows Burn’s character, Sally, fleeing from the farmhouse, escaping on the back of a truck whilst Leatherface breaks chase with his chainsaw flinging in the air. There is something so intriguing about the sunset tones and his gruesome mask made out of flesh, along with the understanding that although Sally has escaped, Leatherface and everything he stands for still goes on thriving.

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Retrospectives Reviews

Retrospective: The Thing (1982)

“Somebody in this camp ain’t what he appears to be” says MacReady (Kurt Russell) as he and his fellow researchers stuck out in the desolate Antarctica squabble over a shape-shifting parasite that takes no prisoners in the quest for power. Rose-tinted glasses are a great shield, but deep down the seedy underbelly will eventually swell, and before you know it, complete hell on earth will be released. The Thing revitalizes that sense of fear over unknown territory that lies beneath every individual to devise one of cinema’s greatest hits. 

When it comes to such a classic, it’s assumed that the road to success was an easy sail, yet, whilst John Carpenter’s terrifying alien feature is a flawless rendition of sci-fi extremes, the production was filled with bumps and jolts. A string of everybody’s favourite filmmakers including Tobe Hooper (joined by writing partner Kim Henkel) and John Landis were all invited to recreate the novella Who Goes There? (1938), which had already been adapted in Christian Nyby’s The Thing from Another World (1951). The arrangements for production were made, but something was missing, that special touch, however, when Carpenter and scriptwriter Bill Lancaster put pen to paper and opted for a touchingly dark and menacingly brutal narrative arc, the cameras began rolling and the rest is history.

It’s no surprise to anyone that the 1980s were a whirlwind of a time for horror, flocks of people were either greedy for the startling nature that horror had to offer, whereas others were actively campaigning for the ‘nasties’ to be axed, done, and dusted. Needless to say, the appetite for The Thing was more than turbulent. And since the mainstream media (which at the time controlled the marketing and awareness of new releases) were not eager to sing Carpenter’s praises, The Thing stayed in the dark for many years. 

The production was no walk in the park either. The twelve weeks of filming in the harsh Alaskan grounds with plenty of mishaps, including camera lenses freezing due to the cold, and actor Keith David breaking his hand the day before filming.

 

To follow on from the turbulent events that came across during production was the unfortunate reputation that clung onto the film thanks to the rocky reputation expressed by unfair reviews and a damning case of word-by-mouth. As soon as The Thing hit theatres the feedback from major outlets including Roger Ebert, Variety, The New York Times, and The Washington Post all obliterated the fine craftsmanship that had gone into making this genre defining classic. The bleak tableau of cynical mindsets and the void of formulaic arcs left a stain on those who were lucky enough to see it in cinemas upon its initial release. Ironically, for a time that would publicly blast horror for not being original and more like a gory slapstick, The Thing’s devotion to marrying intense character dynamics with an analogy-ridden path was simply ‘too much’. From a retrospective point of view, the only thing that was excessive about the film is how much it has to offer; whether it’s the masterful practical effects or the haunting atmosphere, The Thing aims to be *thee* ultimate spectacle. 

The basis for The Thing surrounds an American research station in the faraway and foreign land of Antarctica where snow takes up every ounce of space, and where permanent habitation ceases to exist. The immediate vastness is a daunting facet alone, furthering the velocity of events the team eventually endures. With the aid of an anamorphic lens, the idea of an airy vacant setting is forced upon the viewer, with the stretched, wide frame providing ample space for action to be seen, also subtly showing ‘too much’ bare room around the characters, almost insinuating that there is bound to be someone or something imminently creeping into the frame all of a sudden. 

This premise of suggestion is a theme that runs throughout The Thing’s veins, with uncertainty, precariousness, and ample amounts of delusion infecting the entire course of reason amongst the characters. Tiptoeing alongside the effectiveness of the atmosphere is the deliberately conspicuous and savage research team including the unpolished helicopter pilot MacReady (Russell), Childs (David) the in-house skeptic mechanic, Blair (A. Wilford Brimely) the paranoid biologist, and Nauls (T. K. Carter) the quick-thinking cook. In what can best be described as a motley crew of personalities is a variety of identities that outwardly play out as clashing souls whose inner dynamics pave the way for disaster to strike, however, internally a much more complex picture is being painted than what meets the eye. 

Each character is assigned a general emotion that protrudes further than any other feeling, the characters are simply puppets in Carpenter and Lancaster’s plot to manipulate the viewer into a state of complete shock and fear over the unfolding narrative. The Thing invites the viewer to go on an emotional rollercoaster, with MacReady’s brash feistiness embodying our fight or flight response, Child’s uncertainty and mistrust representing the hastiness that we feel over every new spectacle, Blair’s irrationality epitomizing the panic experienced as we also learn of the parasite’s ferocity, and Naul’s curiosity sparking our need to unravel the origins and motives of the assimilation.

The Thing plays out with an air of fluidity that seems so natural, and whilst that was the goal, behind the scenes Carpenter meticulously plotted out every little detail to enhance the horror and ultimately conjure a trance-like spell over anyone brave enough to watch it. 

Above everything, one aspect that will forever remain synonymous with The Thing’s cult classic reputation is the outstanding effects. Considering the entire premise surrounds a creature feature show, the design of the monster itself was of utmost importance to Rob Bottin, the lead effects creator. Originally, Carpenter wanted “the thing” to be of one design, a whole being, not a shapeshifting leech. In fact, when Bottin initially expressed his ideas of the various forms the monster would take, Carpenter was more than unsure about going down that valiant route. However, the surreal design soon won him over and the thirty five person team went to work in creating one of cinema’s most infamous creatures of all time. 

The 1980s didn’t have mountains of technology to aid in the graphics, instead handy work and dedicated creative geniuses would spend hours moulding full body casts of actors and glueing together faux flesh to fashion severed bloody limbs. One of the most impressive scenes shows the crew’s dog assimilating into a gigantic extraterrestrial being complete with multiple snarling dog heads crowning the top of a bubbling pile of viscera filled with mutating blobs and more than enough blood and slime. To form such a grotesque but fascinating effect, Bottin enlisted the help of fellow effects artist Stan Winston to construct a large hand puppet from makeup artist Lance Anderson’s body. The puppet would then be layered with latex foam and hooked up to wired legs and radio controlled eyes to force the alien-like movements expressed by the thing. Even the mass pile sat below the creature was given its texture from mayonnaise, melted bubble gum and plenty of K-Y Jelly. 

In true old-school fashion, no CGI blood spurts were to be had, instead, Anderson would have to wear a blood-squib suit which would eject plenty of fake blood on cue. 

Blood, sweat, and tears went into concocting the visual feast that The Thing has to offer, with Bottin being hospitalised from exhaustion over literally working for nearly 24 hours everyday just to achieve the perfect aesthetic for the film. 

Upon a modern perspective, the bumpy road The Thing traveled down for its first couple of the years wasn’t down to poor filmmaking or lack of inspiration, the sole reason was that viewers were just not ready for something so monumentally confrontational, a product that dares to end on a gloomy note and not succumb to the Hollywood flow of moviemaking. The legacy of The Thing is still felt to this day, forty years on. Comic books, video games, miniseries, and prequels have all come and gone within the last twenty years, with Blumhouse Studios even releasing a statement in 2020 confirming that The Thing is getting the now-standard remake treatment. 

In a landscape where seemingly everyone’s true colours can be exposed and evil is more free than ever, John Carpenter’s 1982 showstopper is more important now than ever. 

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