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“This is Appalling”: ‘Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Next Generation’ as a Commentary on the State of Horror Circa 1993

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There’s a certain perception that the horror genre declined in the very late 80’s and very early 90’s. Whether you agree or not is irrelevant, the perception is there, and can arguably be attributed to the oversaturation of the genre by the endless sequelization of its highest-profile franchises. By the early 90’s Freddy had swung from the stuff of nightmares into full-blown comedy, Jason had been to Manhattan, and Michael Myers had veered into psychic chicanery. These were slashers that went from some of the most frightening material the genre had ever seen to cartoonish caricatures of themselves.  And there’s no better example of this leap from profound art to laughable trash than the Texas Chainsaw series, which went from the heart-stopping original film to—well, to whatever Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Next Generation was.

Something has never quite lined up with these two movies, which were written by the same man, Kim Henkel, though to watch them you’d never guess. The Texas Chain Saw Massacre is a seminal classic, while The Next Generation is almost universally derived. So what happened? Let it be submitted that Henkel – a film professor – deliberately wrote and directed an inferior sequel in order to say something about the perceived state of the horror.

For starters, the film begins with what would be considered a very traditional cast of Teenager Murder Victims-to-Be, headlined by Renee Zellweger as Jenny, AKA The Final Girl. Aside from Jenny, these characters were born to be murdered in the woods, and we’re made especially aware of it by the fact that one of them never shuts up about it. From the moment they end up on the side of a Texas back road, Heather forecasts their imminent demises because she’s obviously seen one of these movies before and she knows what’s up. This is the first of Henkel’s wink-wink-nod-nods to the audience letting them know that he’s in on the joke.

But the real journey into the back-pocket of self-parody begins with the new family themselves. The original family name of ‘Sawyer’ wasn’t on-the-nose enough, so now they’re the ‘Slaughter’ family. That’s right; in this movie, the iconic chainsaw-wielding maniac is straight-up named Leatherface Slaughter. And while much ado has been made (rightfully so) about Matthew McConaughey’s over-the-top turn as Vilmer, what is less-often discussed is the desperation pervading it. Vilmer is what the kids call a ‘try-hard,’ someone so eager to please his master (who we’ll get into in due time) he gives the game away at every turn. Where Cook and Hitchhiker toyed with their prey before veering into off-putting lunacy, Vilmer has no time for such subterfuge. When he encounters Sean, he immediately kills a man in front of him and then runs him down in a truck. He gives Jenny barely a moment after picking her up before he launches into a deranged rant and shows her the grisly cargo in the back of his pickup. Gone is any nuance or the slow burn of the original, replaced with the instant escalation more-often seen in cheaper slasher fare.

Then there’s Darla, Vilmer’s girlfriend, a participant in the night’s proceedings out of sheer obligation. She’s not exactly into what’s taking place around her, at one point recreating one of Chain Saw’s most unnerving scenes in the most half-assed way imaginable, awkwardly poking at Heather with a stick once or twice with all the force of a gentle breeze. Which leads into the way the movie haphazardly recreates many of the original movie’s aspects in ways that seem intentionally inferior.

Leatherface, once efficient, methodical and near-silent, now struggles to competently capture or kill his victims, all the while screaming like a petulant child.

The family, no longer backwater cannibals, dines on pizza instead of the fresh meat of their victims.

The dinner sequence, originally one of the most effective and horrifying scenes ever committed to film, goes so far off the rails it climaxes with Jenny turning the tables on her captors and scolding Leatherface into sitting down and shutting up.

The ineffectiveness of it all of this is intentional, and we know this because a man in a limo pulls up and openly acknowledges it.

Mr. Rothman, ostensibly part of the Illuminati and the mastermind behind the massacre, is undoubtedly the most controversial and debated aspect of Next Generation, which is understandable. This new element flies in the face of everything the series has ever stood for. So why is it there?

Twenty years before The Cabin in the Woods presented us with a shadow organization that created Horror for the sake of an ever-watchful audience, Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Next Generation did the same. And like in Cabin, this particular event has gone completely sideways and the big boss is forced to intervene. Mr. Rothman, the literal producer pulling the strings, shows up to scold the antagonists.

“This is appalling,” he says, echoing what we’ve all been thinking for the past hour and ten minutes. “I want these people to know the meaning of horror. Horror.” The script could have put a number of words in his mouth there. Terror. Dread. ‘Horror’ was a specific choice, a pointed observation that what we’ve witnessed so far is a subpar attempt at recreating one of the genre’s best works. And while his admonition spurs the movie into one last attempt at a go-for-broke climax that includes an homage to Chainsaw 2’s Leatherface-on-a-truck sequence and an out-of-nowhere airplane, it’s still a piss-poor attempt at creating anything worthy of Hooper’s legacy. As Leatherface swings his chainsaw around in another flimsy callback to a better movie, Rothman sighs, declares the whole thing an abomination and apologizes to the audience by way of Jenny.

It’s this final sequence that best reads as a summation of Henkel’s view of the then-current state of the horror genre, or more specifically the slasher subgenre, or more specifically still, the Chainsaw series. Mr. Rothman’s grumblings sum it up well; All this effort to recreate a spiritual experience, only for it to end in disappointment and ennui.

So if Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Next Generation let you down, it’s possible that was the entire point, and would, therefore, make it more effective – and more cynical – a work than it’s ever been given credit for.

Mr. Rothman would be proud.

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.

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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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