When The Texas Chainsaw Massacre was originally released in 1974, it didn’t play at any of the theaters in my area. I had to wait an agonizing two years before it finally reared its head at the local drive-in. Nonetheless, word of mouth was very strong on the film. People who had been lucky enough to see it at the Cineplex talked about how gory and scary it was. There was no way I was going to miss its opening at the Starlite Drive-In (which is now a Dollar Tree and Shoe Carnival outlet mall).
Glancing through the newspaper, I saw the ad for the film. It announced that the first fifty customers to the drive-in would receive a free chainsaw. Now how could you pass up an offer like that? So I called my best girlfriend, a lovely young blonde named Kelly, and revved up the 1967 black Charger with its Hurst shifter and Thorley racing tires (Lordy how I miss that car).
Anyways, that evening we were one of the first fifty to pass through the gates. And that free chainsaw? Well, it turned out to be a cardboard cut-out with The Texas Chainsaw Massacre logo stamped on it. But I still have the sucker, and it’s wrinkle-free some thirty-five years later. Right now, it’s sitting on my desk in front of me as I reminisce about that night. I’ve never seen one on eBay, and I’ve often wondered how much such a memento would bring. Not that I’d ever sell it, mind you.
I parked the car in one of the rear lots and shut off the engine. I didn’t mind Kelly asking me to walk the far distance to the concession stand. Every weekend there was a new attraction inside it. This weekend, there was a tattoo-covered woman sitting on a footstool in the corner. She was dressed in a pink bikini and was masked head to toe in ink. Nowadays, nobody would probably blink at such a spectacle since nearly everyone has tattoos, but in 1976 it was rather the sight. I’ll never forget it.
So, I get Kelly’s order and return to the car. The first feature was The Town That Dreaded Sundown. I’m still weary of sitting in front of an open window after sunset. Kelly didn’t particularly care for it, if memory serves correctly, but I sure did.
Now you’re probably saying: “You’ve got a good looking girlfriend at the drive-in and you’re not making out with her? What a tool!” Well, that’s okay. There was plenty of time after the movies to make out with her. Do you honestly think I was going to miss a double-feature like this?
I’ve got my paper chainsaw, my girlfriend, and a clear starry summer night to watch movies. The drive-in was packed, as it usually was in the 70s. And it was always great to hear the children’s laughter coming from the swing-sets beneath the large screen and the excited female screams that accompanied the scary action in the films.
To be honest, I was a little let down that The Town That Dreaded Sundown didn’t scare Kelly. But I didn’t have to worry for long. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre worked its macabre magic on her.
Kelly didn’t say much during the beginning of the film. Like me, she seemed glued to the screen. But midway through it, she turned to me and her eyes were wide. She breathed something to me that I couldn’t hear.
“What?” I asked.
“He’s coming towards the car,” she said.
I looked past Kelly and out the Charger’s passenger window. Sure enough, a man dressed in a long black duster and matching black cowboy hat was approaching us through the rows of cars. And he was headed straight towards us.
Kelly quickly rolled up her window.
“Don’t worry about it,” I told her. “It’s all cool.”
But now my attention was distracted. I turned and looked, again, and the man was right atop my car. He wrapped his knuckles on Kelly’s window. Slowly, she rolled it down a crack.
“Do you have a light?” the man in black asked, producing a cigarette between his ring-adorned fingers.
“I don’t smoke,” Kelly lied, and she rolled her window back up as the man in black disappeared into the ocean of cars. I can still remember her quickly lighting a cigarette as she slumped back in her seat. She French-inhaled and looked at me, a distressed smile painted across her face. “That was scary.”
I suppose. But it was nothing like what I saw on the screen that night. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre has been a favorite of mine ever since 1976. It was unbearably claustrophobic, and packed a wallop with its scares. I’m not going to lie. I jumped a bit when Leatherface appeared out of the shadows and drove his chainsaw into Franklin’s invalid body. And what about that scene where Leatherface slams the door closed? You can’t tell me that didn’t run a chill up your spine the first time you saw it.
I also have to mention the chase scene between Leatherface and Sally Hardesty. It absolutely had me glued to the screen. Though I don’t consider The Texas Chainsaw Massacre a slasher, I’ll join the group that proclaims it a “prototype”. And with that I’ll say it’s the best chase scene in the genre. There have been a few to come close, but nothing beats trampling through the brambles while a man-mountain with a chainsaw is chasing you.
Finally, as the film wore down and Leatherface began to do his chainsaw dance before the credits rolled, I had to agree with Kelly that The Texas Chainsaw Massacre was a fine film. It had gotten to me, but it has scared the wits out of Kelly. Her reaction to the man in black had spoken volumes.
We talked about the film a lot as I drove her home. One thing that has always surprised me is how gory a lot of people find The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Kelly proclaimed it the bloodiest film she’d ever seen, and the reaction was much the same that next Monday morning. Kelly and I hadn’t been the only ones at the drive-in - it appeared as plenty of other kids were talking about it. And all of them seemed to find it bloody. What gore? Sure, there were violent scenes, but that’s it. The bloodiest thing you’d probably find is Leatherface falling and cutting his leg with a chainsaw.
Years later, when The Texas Chainsaw Massacre was released on VHS, I went to buy it. The lady at the counter also proclaimed it the goriest film she’d ever seen. Now, it’s never bugged me that people have fallen into believing that. If nothing else, I find it to be one of the film’s strongest points. It’s managed to make people see things that aren’t really there. Team that with its claustrophobic atmosphere, and you’ve got a winning film.
I went back to the drive-in a couple more times to see the movie. Once with a group of friends and one more time with Kelly. And I’ve seen it countless times since. It took quite a few years before I was able to see it on the big screen. I went to watch it at a Lexington, Kentucky film festival that was hosted by Sylvester Stallone’s son. It was nice to meet him and find that he was as big a fan of the film as I am.
It also took a decade before the first sequel was released. I went to see it on opening night, too, and unfortunately found myself in a near empty theater. At the time, it was really hard on the film being unrated. The theater where I saw it was really cracking down on not allowing anyone underage to see it, and thus pretty much killed it straight from the gun. I liked The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Part 2, but it was nothing like the original.
I also went to see the third one on the big screen, but by that time the magic of the first one was completely lost. It was a packed opening night, though. And it was probably good for ushering in a new age of fan. Unfortunately, I just couldn’t share the elation.
Now, it’s a warm late winter’s night. I have the window open and it’s gushing in a cool breeze. Glancing at the cardboard chainsaw I have resting on my desk, I think it’s time I revisit The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. It won’t have the magic of a nearly-naked lady covered in tattoos or of a visit from a man in black, but I’m sure it’ll come as close as it always does.
Glancing through the newspaper, I saw the ad for the film. It announced that the first fifty customers to the drive-in would receive a free chainsaw. Now how could you pass up an offer like that? So I called my best girlfriend, a lovely young blonde named Kelly, and revved up the 1967 black Charger with its Hurst shifter and Thorley racing tires (Lordy how I miss that car).
Anyways, that evening we were one of the first fifty to pass through the gates. And that free chainsaw? Well, it turned out to be a cardboard cut-out with The Texas Chainsaw Massacre logo stamped on it. But I still have the sucker, and it’s wrinkle-free some thirty-five years later. Right now, it’s sitting on my desk in front of me as I reminisce about that night. I’ve never seen one on eBay, and I’ve often wondered how much such a memento would bring. Not that I’d ever sell it, mind you.
I parked the car in one of the rear lots and shut off the engine. I didn’t mind Kelly asking me to walk the far distance to the concession stand. Every weekend there was a new attraction inside it. This weekend, there was a tattoo-covered woman sitting on a footstool in the corner. She was dressed in a pink bikini and was masked head to toe in ink. Nowadays, nobody would probably blink at such a spectacle since nearly everyone has tattoos, but in 1976 it was rather the sight. I’ll never forget it.So, I get Kelly’s order and return to the car. The first feature was The Town That Dreaded Sundown. I’m still weary of sitting in front of an open window after sunset. Kelly didn’t particularly care for it, if memory serves correctly, but I sure did.
Now you’re probably saying: “You’ve got a good looking girlfriend at the drive-in and you’re not making out with her? What a tool!” Well, that’s okay. There was plenty of time after the movies to make out with her. Do you honestly think I was going to miss a double-feature like this?
I’ve got my paper chainsaw, my girlfriend, and a clear starry summer night to watch movies. The drive-in was packed, as it usually was in the 70s. And it was always great to hear the children’s laughter coming from the swing-sets beneath the large screen and the excited female screams that accompanied the scary action in the films.
To be honest, I was a little let down that The Town That Dreaded Sundown didn’t scare Kelly. But I didn’t have to worry for long. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre worked its macabre magic on her.
Kelly didn’t say much during the beginning of the film. Like me, she seemed glued to the screen. But midway through it, she turned to me and her eyes were wide. She breathed something to me that I couldn’t hear.
“What?” I asked.
“He’s coming towards the car,” she said.
I looked past Kelly and out the Charger’s passenger window. Sure enough, a man dressed in a long black duster and matching black cowboy hat was approaching us through the rows of cars. And he was headed straight towards us.
Kelly quickly rolled up her window.
“Don’t worry about it,” I told her. “It’s all cool.”
But now my attention was distracted. I turned and looked, again, and the man was right atop my car. He wrapped his knuckles on Kelly’s window. Slowly, she rolled it down a crack.
“Do you have a light?” the man in black asked, producing a cigarette between his ring-adorned fingers.
“I don’t smoke,” Kelly lied, and she rolled her window back up as the man in black disappeared into the ocean of cars. I can still remember her quickly lighting a cigarette as she slumped back in her seat. She French-inhaled and looked at me, a distressed smile painted across her face. “That was scary.”
I suppose. But it was nothing like what I saw on the screen that night. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre has been a favorite of mine ever since 1976. It was unbearably claustrophobic, and packed a wallop with its scares. I’m not going to lie. I jumped a bit when Leatherface appeared out of the shadows and drove his chainsaw into Franklin’s invalid body. And what about that scene where Leatherface slams the door closed? You can’t tell me that didn’t run a chill up your spine the first time you saw it.
I also have to mention the chase scene between Leatherface and Sally Hardesty. It absolutely had me glued to the screen. Though I don’t consider The Texas Chainsaw Massacre a slasher, I’ll join the group that proclaims it a “prototype”. And with that I’ll say it’s the best chase scene in the genre. There have been a few to come close, but nothing beats trampling through the brambles while a man-mountain with a chainsaw is chasing you.
Finally, as the film wore down and Leatherface began to do his chainsaw dance before the credits rolled, I had to agree with Kelly that The Texas Chainsaw Massacre was a fine film. It had gotten to me, but it has scared the wits out of Kelly. Her reaction to the man in black had spoken volumes.
We talked about the film a lot as I drove her home. One thing that has always surprised me is how gory a lot of people find The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Kelly proclaimed it the bloodiest film she’d ever seen, and the reaction was much the same that next Monday morning. Kelly and I hadn’t been the only ones at the drive-in - it appeared as plenty of other kids were talking about it. And all of them seemed to find it bloody. What gore? Sure, there were violent scenes, but that’s it. The bloodiest thing you’d probably find is Leatherface falling and cutting his leg with a chainsaw.
Years later, when The Texas Chainsaw Massacre was released on VHS, I went to buy it. The lady at the counter also proclaimed it the goriest film she’d ever seen. Now, it’s never bugged me that people have fallen into believing that. If nothing else, I find it to be one of the film’s strongest points. It’s managed to make people see things that aren’t really there. Team that with its claustrophobic atmosphere, and you’ve got a winning film.
I went back to the drive-in a couple more times to see the movie. Once with a group of friends and one more time with Kelly. And I’ve seen it countless times since. It took quite a few years before I was able to see it on the big screen. I went to watch it at a Lexington, Kentucky film festival that was hosted by Sylvester Stallone’s son. It was nice to meet him and find that he was as big a fan of the film as I am.
It also took a decade before the first sequel was released. I went to see it on opening night, too, and unfortunately found myself in a near empty theater. At the time, it was really hard on the film being unrated. The theater where I saw it was really cracking down on not allowing anyone underage to see it, and thus pretty much killed it straight from the gun. I liked The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Part 2, but it was nothing like the original.
I also went to see the third one on the big screen, but by that time the magic of the first one was completely lost. It was a packed opening night, though. And it was probably good for ushering in a new age of fan. Unfortunately, I just couldn’t share the elation.
Now, it’s a warm late winter’s night. I have the window open and it’s gushing in a cool breeze. Glancing at the cardboard chainsaw I have resting on my desk, I think it’s time I revisit The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. It won’t have the magic of a nearly-naked lady covered in tattoos or of a visit from a man in black, but I’m sure it’ll come as close as it always does.
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