The return of Leatherface, the Ed Gein-inspired mass murderer who’s never happier than when he’s chainsawing nubile youngsters in half, might not be much of a return for hardcore horror fans (he’s been in at least one film every decade since the 70s, the last as recently as 2017) but in Netflix’s new franchise restarter, he’s back with a particularly modern brand of vengeance. Following in the sluggish footsteps of Michael Myers, who stabbed his way back to relevance in 2018 after we were insisted upon to ignore the mostly heinous Halloween sequels (H20 remains an underrated bright spot) and allow for a clean slate, the Texas Chainsaw Massacre series is going down a similar retcon route.
Rather than expecting us to have endured the three direct sequels, the remake, the prequel to that remake and the 3D sequel to the original that had previously tried to ignore the other sequels (and the prequel that then came after), the makers of Texas Chainsaw Massacre only ask that our knowledge be as simple as the back-to-basics title. It has never been a series steeped in particularly complex mythology – a silent lug kills and cuts up outsiders while wearing a mask made of human skin – but the exhausting attempts to resurrect and retell have expanded and confused the universe to a point of exasperated weariness. There’s been a similarly messy route to the screen for this latest iteration – an early Covid shoot, a change of director after production began, rumours of unimpressed test audiences, a big screen release cancelled, a sell-off to Netflix – enough to make one wonder if it’s time to retire, disable and bury the chainsaw for good.
