Cult Classics: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2

Our hero, Stretch, before everything goes to hell in a handbasket.

The original Texas Chainsaw Massacre was shot on a low budget and in a cinema vérité style that makes you feel like what you're watching isn't faked, but in fact seems all too real. It's a horror classic, no question, and it scared the living hell out of me when I saw it as a teenager. I'd been hearing about the film for years, usually in hushed and reverent tones, as if the older kids who raved about it were still traumatized. Well, it lived up to the hype, and then some. It took twelve years for a sequel to materialize, but in 1986 Leatherface returned to terrorize theater goers again with his favorite power tool, the chainsaw. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 has a lot in common with its predecessor, most notably an admirably perverse goal to scare the living daylights out of you while rarely, if ever, taking a break to let you catch your breath. In most ways though, it's also a very different film from the original, and at the time of its release these differences seemed to mark it as a failure. However, as the film survived and thrived on home video it gained a fervent cult following, and now is considered another horror and cult classic. If you're squeamish and scare easily, this one might haunt your nightmares for a while. Its outrageously exaggerated performances and tone mitigate a bit of the horror, but just barely. Banned in Australia for twenty years and still banned today in Germany and Singapore, Chainsaw 2 was originally rated "X," (in the pre-"NC-17" era) prompting the filmmakers to just release it unrated. It stayed unrated for almost fifteen years on home video before being given an "R" rating for a 2000 DVD release.

"Why choose when you can buy both" is Lefty's philosophy.

A not-so-subtle homage to the
poster for The Breakfast Club.

Watching Chainsaw 2 is like being strapped into an amusement park ride that has gone completely off the rails: it's a manic thrill ride that just might kill you. Seriously, from the start, director Tobe Hooper (who made his bones—ha ha—with the first Chainsaw) establishes a relentlessly punishing pace. Chainsaw 2 adds a heavy dose of black comedy to the mix this time, and the results are ridiculously entertaining. If you like to see actors behaving like lunatics on the verge of a nervous breakdown, then you're in for a treat here. Not only does it feature Dennis Hopper as an obsessed lawman and relative of one of the victim's from the first film, teetering on the edge of losing his mind at all times, but it also stars Bill Moseley as the amusingly terrifying Chop-Top and Jim Siedow as the comically put-upon Drayton "The Cook" Sawyer, both chewing scenery so hard it's amazing they didn't crack some molars. Between Hopper's Lieutenant "Lefty" Enright and Chop-Top and Drayton, we're surrounded, nearly at all times, by actors behaving like rabid dogs. Chop-Top and Drayton do not shut up. Ever. They are two of the more nonsensically loquacious serial killers you'll ever care to meet. Lefty is a bit more subtle than the others—he quotes scripture and calls himself "The Lord of the Harvest"—but also has those crazy eyes that are constantly bulging out of his head with maniacal intensity. For a religious man, Lefty has very few qualms about using Caroline Williams's "final girl," radio DJ, Vanita "Stretch" Block, as bait for the crazy cannibalistic killers.

Speaking of Williams's performance as Stretch, she enters the Scream Queen Hall of Fame with this film. She exhibits tremendous range here, playing Stretch as a funny, confident, and determined woman, one who will eventually need all the determination she can muster to escape the living hell that awaits her in the film's brutal second half. Stretch knows something's up, that the chainsaw killers from years past are in her radio station's listening area now because she receives a call from two obnoxiously drunk frat boys who are murdered on air by a chainsaw (surprise, it's Leatherface (Bill Johnson), who impressively accomplishes this task from a moving vehicle). In films like this, no one ever believes the person who can see the obvious danger ahead, and in this film that person is Lefty. Stretch believes him though, and she sets out to help him find the chainsaw killers. After broadcasting the tape on air again, per Lefty's request and not a smart move on her part, she's paid a visit by Chop-Top, her number one fan. He's been dispatched by Drayton to take care of Stretch because, you see, Drayton can't have anyone finding out about what he does with all of those chainsawed bodies (hint: he wins a Texas-Oklahoma chili cook-off earlier in the film). It's an eerily disturbing scene, which Moseley simultaneously plays for laughs and chills. Stretch is trapped in the radio station with this lunatic, who becomes less funny and more threatening the longer he has her cornered. He asks for a tour of the offices, leading to one of Williams's best moments as she leads him on an extremely abbreviated tour, holding up one item after another from her desk (lamp, typewriter, assorted radio promo toys like "Rubber Man"), then quickly ends it with, "And there's the exit sign, tour's over!" Williams combines humor and terror in this scene—you know Stretch is scared silly here, but in keeping with the film's black humor, she still makes you laugh out loud like when she holds up the snapper stick toy she calls "Mr. Shark" and snaps his mouth open and shut quickly.

Caroline Williams got her scream on with this film.

Soon after Leatherface bursts into the room, chainsaw blazing. While Chop-Top bludgeons her poor producer L.G (Lou Perryman), Leatherface is about to saw Stretch to pieces, when he realizes that she's quite fetching, especially in those Daisy Duke shorts. From that moment on the hulking monster-man is hopelessly smitten, even protecting her from death several times. At one point, the two have a Beauty and the Beast moment when Leatherface covers Stretch's face with L.G.'s freshly removed and bloody-as-all-hell facial skin, slaps a cowboy hat on her head, and then begins gleefully dancing with her like he's at the county fair. Ah, young romance. This is how Leatherface courts women, apparently. Murdering hapless victims with chainsaws may be his primary hobby, but dancing ranks a close second. Through all of this madness, Williams is fantastic, constantly alternating between screaming for her life (and her screams convey a believable terror throughout) and trying to appeal to Leatherface's attraction to her in the hopes that he'll help her escape. I can't even imagine how exhausting this role was for her. Actors in movies like this never get awards recognition, but for her sheer perseverance in the face of such unrelenting chaos, Williams at least deserved a Joe Bob Brigg's Drive-In Academy Award nomination and win. Williams is another in a long line of "final girls," a horror film trope that may have originated with Marilyn Burns's character in the first Chainsaw,. Williams isn't just a victim here, but a survivor, bringing more intensity and charm to Stretch than most actresses in similar roles ever have, before or since.

The family that slays together stays together.

Did I mention that Lefty embarks on a mission to save Stretch while wielding not one, not two, but three chainsaws of his own? He carries a big one while strapping two smaller backup saws to his hips, like an Old West cowboy carrying his shotgun and two six-shooters. His descent into the killer clan's cavernous home—an old abandoned carnival elegantly decorated with human bones (because, of course)—provides Hopper with some of his best moments. This is when he starts going full-on southern preacher while chainsawing the killers' home to pieces. The problem is, the grounds are enormous, and Lefty spends an excruciating amount of time plowing through them but not reaching Stretch until late in the film. In the meantime, Stretch does her best just to stay alive, while Lefty distracted with cutting channeling his rage into sawing down support beams throughout the maze-like compound. Lefty eventually winds up in a chainsaw duel with Leatherface himself—and you thought lightsaber duels were cool??—clearing a path for Stretch to escape, but she's pursued and caught by Chop-Top. She fights him off, repeatedly, until finally besting the sick son of a bitch with yet another chainsaw, this one pilfered from the dead and decaying body of the clan's beloved grandma. Appropriately enough, our final scene features the final girl herself, full of adrenaline, holding her chainsaw above her head while twirling in place and shouting triumphantly. She's earned that moment of release, don't you think? It's an iconic shot, mirroring Leatherface's final scene in the first film. While it might not be as revered as the original, this film deserves recognition as an extremely effective horror flick. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 is both frightening and funny, which is a tough thing to pull off.

Stretch, triumphant.

Comments

All I Want For Christmas: Phoebe Cates's Monologue in Gremlins

Joe Dante's 1980s classic Gremlins will always be a subversive Christmas favorite. From Spike exploding in the microwave to Mrs. Daigle's "stairlift to hell", the movie is packed with deliciously transgressive moments that turn the holly jolly season right on its ear. None are more memorable, though, than Phoebe Cates delivering her legendary "worst thing that ever happened to me on Christmas" monologue. It's a jaw-dropping, tour-de-force moment, a truly horrific story that's also one of the most darkly comic moments in Christmas movie history. Cates really shines during this scene. There's no denying just how seminal that scene of hers in Fast Times at Ridgemont High was for a generation of young people, but her speech in Gremlins is equally important and a wonderful showcase for her serious and comedic acting skills. Here's the speech, in its entirety. No Christmas season is complete without at least one viewing

Blowing in the Wind: Marilyn Monroe and That Iconic White Dress

This month marks sixty-five years since one of the most iconic moments in twentieth-century popular culture: Marilyn Monroe’s angelic white dress being blown sky high by wind rushing up from a subway grate beneath her feet in the film The Seven Year Itch . Billy Wilder shot multiple takes, while Sam Shaw snapped photo after photo for what had to be the biggest publicity stunt ever staged at the time. Marilyn wore two pairs of underwear for the shot, yet, as noted in Lois Banner's critical biography Marilyn: The Passion and the Paradox (2012), "a dark blotch of pubic hair" remained visible to the 100 male photographers and over 1,500 male spectators, all of whom crowded eagerly around the set to gawk and drool. Due to strict 1950s movie censorship laws, photos had to be doctored to white out the offending blotch, but those in attendance saw it, over and over, shot after shot. Marilyn's husband at the time, the extremely old fashioned Joe DiMaggio, stormed off th

It Came From the '90s: Kelly Bundy and the Alternative Family Ideal

This series looks back at the 1990s and its influence on the generation of people who came of age during the decade. Very few television series in the 1990s were as polarizing as Married...with Children . People either loved it or they loathed it. TV critics and good upstanding Catholic families like mine fell into the latter category. Soon after it debuted during my first year of junior high in 1987 (not quite the '90s, but on the brink), my parents made it clear that we would not be watching. I believe the words they used were "vulgar," "unfunny," and, one of their perennial favorites, "risque." Of course, this meant it immediately took on a prurient appeal for me. Parents can never win, honestly. Kelly Bundy—the talented Christina Applegate, who never gets enough credit for elevating the blonde airhead trope into an art form—only further piqued my interest. She was like the girls in school with the absurdly voluminous hair and ridiculously sh

"That girl looks just like Pat Benatar"

Linda, that girl looks just like Pat Benatar. I know. Wait, there are three girls here at Ridgemont who have cultivated the Pat Benatar look. I was just a kid when Fast Times at Ridgemont High opened in 1982. Still though, even at the tender young age of seven, I knew who Pat Benatar was, because a.) her music was all over the radio and even then I recognized the utter awesomeness of her vocal talent in songs like "Hit Me With Your Best Shot", and b.) some of the older girls around town were obviously cribbing their looks—clothes, hair, makeup, strut—from Benatar's own style. Benatar was ubiquitous. So, when I see or hear vintage-era Benatar now, I think of Fast Times , but mostly I remember that ubiquity—of both the performer and her legion of young imitators. I know it's not true, but when I recollect those years I swear every older girl looked like either Benatar, Juice Newton, or Joan Jett. It's easy to forget, years later, that

Misspent Youth: Joanne Whalley

Looking back at the pop culture mainstays of this Gen-Xer's gloriously misspent youth. One of the most famous and oft-quoted Seinfeld scenes involves Bobka and Jerry's discovery of the existence of Cinnamon Bobka. After Elaine scoffs at the notion of such a thing, even calling it a "lesser Bobka," Jerry unleashes one of the great defenses of a freshly ground spice ever delivered: People love cinnamon. It should be on tables at restaurants along with salt and pepper. Anytime anyone says, "Oh This is so good. What's in it?" The answer invariably comes back, Cinnamon. Cinnamon. Again and again. Joanne Whalley is like Cinnamon. Yes, I just compulsively double-checked my DVD copy and it's the unrated version, thank you very much. Let me explain. You see, during the formative years of my misspent youth, if I stumbled on a movie featuring the doe-eyed, petite, beautiful English actress, invariably I'd feel like Jerry does about Cin

Margot Kidder and the Childhood Crush That Will Never Die

"I dream about sex, flying, and being chased by Nazis." — Margot Kidder, Rolling Stone , "The Education of Margot Kidder", 1981 ***** File that quote under, "Reasons why I love Margot Kidder." Last month, Margot hopped a one-way flight with old pal Chris Reeve off into the stars and beyond, where they could reenact their iconic moment from Superman (1978), for all eternity. I wrote a little about Margot, here and here , trying to explain why this particular actress meant so much to me as a kid growing up in the 1980s. I thought that would be enough. It wasn't.* Those posts were my fumbling attempts to sort out just how large an impact Margot had on my young life, and, to my present-day surprise, how much she still means to me now. Before news of her death, I hadn't thought of her in ages. I assumed the early childhood crush I harbored for my Lois Lane had dwindled and faded. Ha! I was a fool. My crush on Margot was very

Misspent Youth: Randi Brooks

Looking back at the pop culture mainstays of this Gen-Xer's gloriously misspent youth. ***** A note on the series and this site: This might be the final post in the "Misspent Youth" series - at least here. Maybe it'll eventually move with me. Oh, right, I buried the lede: I've moved, and would love for you to come visit me at my new site, The Starfire Lounge ! Moving forward, this site will likely cease to be updated, but will remain around for posterity and your continued reading pleasure. I have a few more things to post here over the coming days or weeks as a sort of "everything must go" send-off to the old girl. I also plan to write a final farewell post to my main online home for the last five years. Stay tuned and, as always, thanks for reading. ***** It's no surprise that the talented but now mostly forgotten Randi Brooks would make an appearance in the Misspent Youth series. She may not be a household name, but her resume

It Came From the '90s: My Secret Crush on The Nanny

This series looks back at the 1990s and its influence on the generation of people who came of age during the decade. For six seasons in the 1990s, The Nanny made many of us laugh. At times, it could be downright hilarious . At others, well, not so much . This isn't a review of a '90s sitcom staple, though. No. This is simply an excuse to come clean about something I've kept buried deep inside for over two decades now: I had a secret crush on The Nanny herself, Fran Drescher. The unadulterated nineties-ness of this is practically blinding. And I love it. While The Nanny was sometimes quite funny, thanks largely to Drescher's spunky charisma and wholehearted commitment, the show was never considered hip. People my parents age seemed to love it, but my friends preferred, well, Friends . That smile! Those legs! That dress! It's all overloading my circuits. I watched Friends with my friends, but I also thoroughly enjoyed The Nanny , to

"Opium Wars" by Zoe Lund

She wants there to be more of her. More space taken by her body, More decibels conquered by her voice, More time by her wakefulness, More equations by her addition. She wants more, I want less. Her blade is rusty, musty, sweaty and vain. I like it clean and sharp and dark-bright. She traffics in surplus, I bare my essentials. Her world is elastic but brittle. Mine is bony but moonlit. Hers flows, she ebbs. Mine ebbs, I flow. She dies in life, I live in death. —Zoe Lund, “Opium Wars”

Misspent Youth: Morgan Fairchild

Looking back at the movies, music, television, and other pop culture mainstays of this Gen-Xer's gloriously misspent youth. Once I decided that Morgan Fairchild would be the subject of the next installment in this series, I did what I usually do and researched online for a bit, just to refresh my memory on details that might've previously been lost to time. Morgan Fairchild was legitimately one of the most potent sex symbols of the 1970s and '80s. Not that I needed much refresher when it came to Fairchild. Born Patsy Ann McClenny in Dallas, Texas, February 3, 1950, the American actress was everywhere during those oh-so-crucial formative years of my pop culture obsession. She loomed large in the growing ranks of proto-haughty glamour queens, a trope that was hot on prime time TV in the 1980s. The characters she was most well-known for were drop-dead gorgeous and didn't suffer fools lightly. Really, few ever did it better than Fairchild. The shirt do

Words Seem Out Of Place

Search This Blog