The Texas Chain Saw Massacre

Aside from the dubious legitimacy of this introduction – there never was a Texas Chain Saw Massacre, with all that is shown on screen having as much claim to be a real and true record as any other fiction film that records the "pro-filmic event" – it's hard to find fault with Tobe Hooper's horror masterpiece.

Extraordinarily committed performances, adept direction and editing, effective production design and a powerful musique concrete soundtrack come together to first create an almost haptic sense of dread then, when the youths encounter the cannibalistic family, throw the viewer into an all-too-plausible nightmare world.

The chainsaw-wielding Leatherface and his cohorts are, after all, only defending their property and way of life against outside intrusion, exercising their constitutionally enshrined rights to their logical – if absurdist – conclusion.

Perhaps the torment of "final girl" Sally goes on too long, possibly indicative of a discrepancy between the required running time and ideas to fill it. Maybe it would have been more PC if Franklin had been played by a genuinely disabled actor and hadn't been such an annoying whiner that you almost want to see him die as slowly and painfully as possible.

But these are minor points. The Texas Chain Saw Massacre remains as powerful and disturbing a film as when it was first released.

With the Texas Chain Saw Massacre already available on R2 DVD, the obvious question is which version to go for.

In terms of sound and picture, there is nothing to choose between this new release from Universal and its predecessor from Blue Dolphin.

Being a low-budget production that was shot on 16mm in mono and blown up for theatrical release, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre is not the sort of film that was ever going to win any audio-visual awards. This said, the restoration and remastering work along with the new Dolby digital mix are entirely satisfactory, the latter nicely adding to the atmospherics of Hooper's music concrete score.

The commentary track with director Tobe Hooper, cinematographer Daniel Pearl and Gunnar "Leatherface" Hansen, was originally featured on the Elite Laserdisc release but also appeared on the old UK DVD.

Taking the form of an impromptu chat, with the three men bouncing reminiscences and questions off one another, and works well. Each man's contribution complements the others, giving us a composite picture of what the film was like from the perspectives of director, crew and performers.

Any gaps in the commentary are filled in by the new extras – which come at the cost of removing the original mono sound mix – a 72-minute documentary, "The Shocking Truth" (also, I believe, available on its own from Exploited) and shorter interviews with Hooper and writer Kim Henkel, all produced by Blue Underground.

Including contributions from just about everyone who matters among the cast and crew – only Terri McMinn, Ed Neal and Daniel Pearl are noticeably absent – the documentary tells the story of the film from its genesis through production, distribution and reception, on to the eventual sequels.

One feels sorry for the participants, who put up with appalling conditions – long days in extremely unpleasant conditions – but got virtually nothing for their pains. With none of the majors or established exploitation outfits showing an interest in the film, the only distribution offer came from Bryanston, a mafia company whose previous claim to fame was the infamous, if epochal, porno Deep Throat. Net results, TCM makes millions but only a tiny portion of the money goes to those deserving it…

Also of note is the discussion of the film's reception in the UK, where stock footage of Nazi book-burnings accompanies the story of its 25-year ban in the territory. It sounds heavy-handed and probably is at some level, yet isn't an entirely inappropriate authorial comment when one considers that TCM was outlawed not for any specific piece of obscene content as with the archetypal "video nasty" – whether animal cruelty as in Cannibal Ferox or sexualised rape as in House on the Edge of the Park – more because the BBFC, who could not put their finger on anything specific, found the film disturbing.

The interviews, which are divided up into headed segments, are not bad, merely somewhat superfluous by the time you've watched the commentary and documentary. There is, after all, only so much that can be said.

The other extras with the exception of the DVD-ROM web link, are identical to those on the laserdisc and Blue Dolpin DVD. You get trailers and TV spots for the Bryanston and New Line releases of the film; sequel trailers (with TCM: The Next Generation still curiously represented by a "rough cut" trailer); out-takes and alternatives takes, and comprehensive galleries (which, unfortunately, cannot be set to auto-advance). Nothing outstanding, then, but all of interest to fans of the film.

The package is rounded off with a 16-page booklet and, for the initial DVD release at least, a reproduction poster. Unfortunately the promo DVD I received did not include these materials, so I can't fairly comment on them.

All in all, the Universal DVD of the Texas Chain Saw Massacre is clearly the one to go for if you don't already possess the old Blue Dolphin release. You lose the original mono sound track but gain a very impressive documentary. But whether those with the original will want to upgrade, rather than just renting/borrowing the new DVD to watch the documentary is more debatable.