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In 1989, just three short years after Tobe Hooper drove the serrated end of a Stihl through Bubba Sawyer’s belly during the climax of the darkly comedic The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 – ostensibly ending both the franchise and Hooper’s career – New Line Cinema swooped in, bought the rights to The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, and set out to make the lumbering Leatherface their newest mascot. The ’80s had been good to New Line, thanks mainly in part to their resident maniac Freddy Krueger; he’d built their house – now Leatherface was going to build their toolshed.

To help hone their vision, New Line hired author David J. Schow – known for his “splatterpunk” work, a term he coined himself – to pen the script. Schow, no stranger to blood and guts, delivered on the viscera – but he also brought back the unhinged, dangerous vibe from the original film. His script was filled with the colorful characters, dire situations, and bone-shattering violence Tobe Hooper had established with The Texas Chain Saw Massacre.

After approaching a few potential suitors to direct the film (including Tom Savini and Peter Jackson, both of whom turned it down), New Line settled on 26-year-old Jeff Burr, a relatively new face who’d just directed the moderately-received Stepfather II. His respect for the franchise was obvious from the start as his initial suggestions to New Line made clear: he’d direct the film, but he wanted to shoot in Texas on 16 mm, just like the original, and he wanted Gunnar Hansen back as Leatherface. New Line’s response was to fire Burr, just a week into production. New Line didn’t want creative; they wanted familiar. With Leatherface, they wanted a guaranteed franchise star. Alas, with no one willing to take on the duties of what was shaping up to be a tumultuous shoot, New Line had no choice but to rehire Burr.

From the beginning, the production was fraught with setbacks – something that would haunt the shoot until the very end. Crew members dropped out, wildfires destroyed locations they had planned to use, and after the movie wrapped the MPAA slapped it with an X rating – a death knell for horror films at the time (TCM III was the last film to be given an X-rating). Even after trimming almost 5 minutes of footage, test audiences encouraged the studio to completely reshoot the ending – something Burr himself didn’t even discover until he watched the final version in a theater.

Because of the heavy editing and reshoots, the film – which was slated for a November release – was bumped to January, known as a “dump month”. One of the worst times of year for a film to open, it’s where films usually go to die. Upon release, critics tore the film to shreds. Many of the newspaper reviews were so disdainful, the critics didn’t even bother to get the plotline or character names correct in the write-up.

In the end, despite all the strikes against it, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre III managed to scrounge up a $3M profit. Still, it wasn’t enough to convince the fickle New Line (namely CEO Bob Shaye) to continue making more Leatherface sequels. They wouldn’t be involved in another Massacre film until almost 15 years later, when they released the remake.

They didn’t want creative; they wanted familiar.

Regardless of its initial reception, it’s now almost 30 years later, and fans of the film are still remembering it fondly and clamoring for more. Warts and all, TCM III struck a chord with the burgeoning gorehounds at the time as well as the older fans of the original. Despite its micro budget, TCM III does an incredible job with its production and design. The production was lucky to snag the KNB EFX Group (Nicotero and Berger, back when they were partners with Kurtzman) on what was one of their first projects as a group. They provided every severed arm, filleted face, and chainsawed head, much to the chagrin of the MPAA – but to the delight of fans.

And then there’s the lighting: the night lighting used throughout the film is gorgeous and used to great effect, creating not only ambiance but also setting a dreadful mood. It’s some of the best night-lighting in a horror film this side of Halloween. While our hulking killer stalks his human prey through the moonlit Texas woods, their frightened expressions are cast in a ghostly navy blue hue, as if they’re already dead and don’t even know it. And when the malicious Tink shows up in his tow truck to do some post-accident clean-up, the scene is lit solely by car headlights and flickering red flares, making Tink look like the Devil himself. At times, the lighting choices almost feel Michael Mann-esque: earlier in the film, as our victims speed off from the dusty and desolate Last Chance Gas Station aimlessly into the night, the camera cranes above the blackened landscape, the only light visible being the sickly neon green glow from a dingy fluorescent light above one of the pumps and a dying purple sunset in the distance. Altogether, its color palette makes it feel like a hillbilly giallo film.

The most important part of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre III is that it made Leatherface scary again. When the world was introduced to Leatherface in the original The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, he was a destructive toddler; a whirlwind of petulance, frustration, and unpredictability exacerbated by his abusive, domineering brothers. He resolved every problem by destroying it, which is innately scary. In the sequel, however, he became sort of a bumbling, horny tween, dopey and love-struck with the unobtainable and leggy Stretch. He’d become a puppy. But by TCM III, he’d entered his teenage phase, instilling again in him the short-temperedness he hadn’t experienced since the first film. He’d become self-aware, self-conscious, and aloof. He was no longer taking orders from his brothers; he was sticking their hands in the oven to retrieve his heavy metal cassette tape. He was a force once again. He was terrifying.

Burr’s TCM III is at once a love letter to the original film and an attempt to reclaim what made the original such an indelible part of horror history. And it’s evident in the final product – or, what’s left of it. It’s all water under the bridge now, but it’s hard not to try to imagine what Burr could’ve done with the franchise had New Line let him make his vision.

“So,” asks the disarming Tex, as he drives a spike through the hand of our heroine, pinning her to the chair in which she’s strapped, “how you like Texas?”

We like it just fine.

Editorials

‘Leprechaun Returns’ – The Charm of the Franchise’s Legacy Sequel

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leprechaun returns

The erratic Leprechaun franchise is not known for sticking with a single concept for too long. The namesake (originally played by Warwick Davis) has gone to L.A., Las Vegas, space, and the ‘hood (not once but twice). And after an eleven-year holiday since the Davis era ended, the character received a drastic makeover in a now-unmentionable reboot. The critical failure of said film would have implied it was time to pack away the green top hat and shillelagh, and say goodbye to the nefarious imp. Instead, the Leprechaun series tried its luck again.

The general consensus for the Leprechaun films was never positive, and the darker yet blander Leprechaun: Origins certainly did not sway opinions. Just because the 2014 installment took itself seriously did not mean viewers would. After all, creator Mark Jones conceived a gruesome horror-comedy back in the early nineties, and that format is what was expected of any future ventures. So as horror legacy sequels (“legacyquels”) became more common in the 2010s, Leprechaun Returns followed suit while also going back to what made the ‘93 film work. This eighth entry echoed Halloween (2018) by ignoring all the previous sequels as well as being a direct continuation of the original. Even ardent fans can surely understand the decision to wipe the slate clean, so to speak.

Leprechaun Returns “continued the [franchise’s] trend of not being consistent by deciding to be consistent.” The retconning of Steven Kostanski and Suzanne Keilly’s film was met with little to no pushback from the fandom, who had already become accustomed to seeing something new and different with every chapter. Only now the “new and different” was familiar. With the severe route of Origins a mere speck in the rearview mirror, director Kotanski implemented a “back to basics” approach that garnered better reception than Zach Lipovsky’s own undertaking. The one-two punch of preposterous humor and grisly horror was in full force again.

LEPRECHAUN

Pictured: Linden Porco as The Leprechaun in Leprechaun Returns.

With Warwick Davis sitting this film out — his own choice — there was the foremost challenge of finding his replacement. Returns found Davis’ successor in Linden Porco, who admirably filled those blood-stained, buckled shoes. And what would a legacy sequel be without a returning character? Jennifer Aniston obviously did not reprise her final girl role of Tory Redding. So, the film did the next best thing and fetched another of Lubdan’s past victims: Ozzie, the likable oaf played by Mark Holton. Returns also created an extension of Tory’s character by giving her a teenage daughter, Lila (Taylor Spreitler).

It has been twenty-five years since the events of the ‘93 film. The incident is unknown to all but its survivors. Interested in her late mother’s history there in Devil’s Lake, North Dakota, Lila transferred to the local university and pledged a sorority — really the only one on campus — whose few members now reside in Tory Redding’s old home. The farmhouse-turned-sorority-house is still a work in progress; Lila’s fellow Alpha Epsilon sisters were in the midst of renovating the place when a ghost of the past found its way into the present.

The Psycho Goreman and The Void director’s penchant for visceral special effects is noted early on as the Leprechaun tears not only into the modern age, but also through poor Ozzie’s abdomen. The portal from 1993 to 2018 is soaked with blood and guts as the Leprechaun forces his way into the story. Davis’ iconic depiction of the wee antagonist is missed, however, Linden Porco is not simply keeping the seat warm in case his predecessor ever resumes the part. His enthusiastic performance is accentuated by a rotten-looking mug that adds to his innate menace.

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Pictured: Taylor Spreitler, Pepi Sonuga, and Sai Bennett as Lila, Katie and Rose in Leprechaun Returns.

The obligatory fodder is mostly young this time around. Apart from one luckless postman and Ozzie — the premature passing of the latter character removed the chance of caring about anyone in the film — the Leprechaun’s potential prey are all college aged. Lila is this story’s token trauma kid with caregiver baggage; her mother thought “monsters were always trying to get her.” Lila’s habit of mentioning Tory’s mental health problem does not make a good first impression with the resident mean girl and apparent alcoholic of the sorority, Meredith (Emily Reid). Then there are the nicer but no less cursorily written of the Alpha Epsilon gals: eco-conscious and ex-obsessive Katie (Pepi Sonuga), and uptight overachiever Rose (Sai Bennett). Rounding out the main cast are a pair of destined-to-die bros (Oliver Llewellyn Jenkins, Ben McGregor). Lila and her peers range from disposable to plain irritating, so rooting for any one of them is next to impossible. Even so, their overstated personalities make their inevitable fates more satisfying.

Where Returns excels is its death sequences. Unlike Jones’ film, this one is not afraid of killing off members of the main cast. Lila, admittedly, wears too much plot armor, yet with her mother’s spirit looming over her and the whole story — comedian Heather McDonald put her bang-on Aniston impersonation to good use as well as provided a surprisingly emotional moment in the film — her immunity can be overlooked. Still, the other characters’ brutal demises make up for Lila’s imperviousness. The Leprechaun’s killer set-pieces also happen to demonstrate the time period, seeing as he uses solar panels and a drone in several supporting characters’ executions. A premortem selfie and the antagonist’s snarky mention of global warming additionally add to this film’s particular timestamp.

Critics were quick to say Leprechaun Returns did not break new ground. Sure, there is no one jetting off to space, or the wacky notion of Lubdan becoming a record producer. This reset, however, is still quite charming and entertaining despite its lack of risk-taking. And with yet another reboot in the works, who knows where the most wicked Leprechaun ever to exist will end up next.


Horror contemplates in great detail how young people handle inordinate situations and all of life’s unexpected challenges. While the genre forces characters of every age to face their fears, it is especially interested in how youths might fare in life-or-death scenarios.

The column Young Blood is dedicated to horror stories for and about teenagers, as well as other young folks on the brink of terror.

Leprechaun Returns movie

Pictured: Linden Porco as The Leprechaun in Leprechaun Returns.

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