The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003)

How does one approach giving an honest appraisal to the remake of one of the greatest genre films ever made? In my case, it is by being outraged and infuriated upon the initial theatrical viewing, then revisiting the film diligently over the following six year interim since it first graced multiplex screens. In my humble opinion, this is a remake whose seemingly blasphemous decision to tinker with tone, character and story structure (which had me positively frothing at the onset) has held up over time as the correct way to go and the picture now presents itself as an effective, fully realized animal of its own design.
 
Far from being indicative of a trend of hollow, cash in, disposable film making, the TCM remake is dark and depressing. It is probably the most beautiful ugly film ever made. You can see the extraordinary amount of care taken with the composition of every single frame of film. The art direction is nothing short of sumptuous with the gloriously dilapidated homestead of the Hewitt family standing out as one of the great, imposing structures in the storied history of horror architecture. When that domicile is backlit at night, the effect is singularly stunning.
 
Director Marcus Nispel (who would go on to do everything he did right here, wrong in his Friday the 13th reboot) imbues the flow of images with a sheen that manages to maintain all that is visually arresting about music videos (where he got his start) while injecting a sense of urgency to the narrative and displaying a budding competency in regards to pacing. The story is relatively similar to the original with some admittedly ham fisted tweaking to the characterization of the formerly cannibalistic clan, here named Hewitt. A back story to Leatherface could be forgiven if they hadn’t shown his face, a grievous error rectified in the prequel.
 
The performances are uniformly excellent. The teens are fleshed out as distinctive, relatively likable personalities with little effort or exposition. Their growing unease and eventual terror is palpable and believable. R. Lee Ermey is fantastic as always and is genuinely menacing as a perverted, unpredictable authority figure, exemplified in the standout scene between him and Jonathan Tucker in the back of the van where he compels the young man to recreate a suicide for his morbid edification. It’s a truly great scene with both actors giving their all and creating an indelible moment that ranks alongside some of the more intense moments of the original. It’s a make or break moment for the films credibility and all involved knock it out of the park. Andrew Bryniarski’s Leatherface is the most physical in the franchise and sports a great, twisted visage of a mask. He’s a bit one note though, which is also rectified in the prequel.
 
People too often lambaste this film for things out of its control while ignoring the many things it does right. This is not an independent production guided by an acid headed wunderkind unrestrained by studio interference in a time when barriers had yet to be broken down in horror films. This is a well funded, studio picture that somehow managed to retain a pitch black tone. It miraculously has a comprehensive and painstakingly realized milieu of oppressive horror for a film aimed at a bubble headed demographic accustomed to and accepting of far less effort and care put into an exploitative scare show. It strives to be art and in many regards succeeds. It’s not going to be the psychotic meltdown the original was, it would have been laughable if they tried to achieve that intensity. This is a straightforward interpretation of the bloody chamber/Hansel and Gretel archetype and on those terms is wildly successful.
 
3 out of 4 stars

reviewed by Matt Risnes

© Copyright 2009 John Shatzer