Reel Phallic: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre
Copping a Biel
by Sam Kuhlmann

I used to think Mary Camden and I were meant for each other. One night, during the initial season of 7th Heaven, we made eye contact and it was magic, like she could see into my living room. We had so much in common: her dad was a minister, and my step-dad was a minister; she was a fictional character on TV show, and I had a rich fantasy life; her real life counter point, Jessica Biel, was from Boulder, and I went to college in Boulder; she was gorgeous, and I thought she was gorgeous. It was a match made in… um… (I’ve got nothing here). I was delighted when Mary’s Christian-clean image was tarnished with a few poor decisions. I love bad girls, and when she was ostracized from the insufferable Camden family (especially that future rehab denizen know-it-all, Simon), it sealed the deal for me. No longer would her straight-laced family get in the way of our inevitable and naughty nest of nudity.

Alas, reality has reared its ugly mug once again, and my idyllic future has become a nightmare. The beginning of the end for Mary/Jessica and I occurred a couple of weeks ago when I saw the preview for the new The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003). Now I desperately want to slice my crush up into little pieces and eat her toes like jalapeno poppers.

The idea of remaking the original and perfect The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) nauseates me. I have been grunting and squealing hateful idiocies since hearing the movie would be made and that Michael Bay would be producing. I’ve seen the preview about six times now, and there are innumerable reasons that the new Texas Chainsaw Massacre makes me want to scream in fear at the prospect of ever having to actually see the movie.

The original Texas Chainsaw Massacre is brilliant. I respect it so much because it manages to balance a frightening and well-told story with many levels of thoughtful subtext. It’s a dirty representation of pure nightmare, a piercing social commentary on American political issues of the times and a meditation on the very idea of horror as an art form. Michael Bay’s previous films have failed on all levels. (Not counting the explosion level, of course.)

He makes slick movies, just look at The Rock (1996), Armageddon (1998) and Pearl Harbor (2001). For Chainsaw he has hired Marcus Nispel, a first time feature director who cut his teeth on slick C+C Music Factory videos. The original Chainsaw is not a slick movie. It is grimy, gritty and dirty. The underlying theme of horror as art is serviced perfectly by this look. Horror, terror and death are not in the least bit clean. The preview, however, presents squeaky-clean images, even during the shots of people running from certain death. Biel runs for her life through a pristine composition of light filtering through treetops a la Terrence Malick. What is Nispel saying? “It sure is beautiful how this girl is getting tortured?” That’s something to make you go hmmm.

Bay is part of a committee of directors that advocate anti-violence in movies. As ridiculous as this may seem when reviewing the violence in Bay’s oeuvre, his assertion that the films display appropriate violence, because they are in service of good vs. evil, is laughable. The Chainsaw story is one of bloody violence, and for Bob Shaye, the head of New Line Cinema (Bay’s studio backer) to assure that bloodletting would be kept to a minimum, is inane.

The original Chainsaw was made in the wake of the Vietnam War. The horror that was encountered in that war, and the effect that it had on the disillusioned American people, was reflected in the film. The lines were blurred between good guys and bad guys. Simply put, these kids, that are not endearing to the audience at all, force themselves into a house that they do not own and are killed. The preview of the remake displays a different structure. We see beautiful teenagers having a good time. In these few shots alone, audience identification is developed; we like these kids. Nobody liked Franklin from the original movie because he was fat, crippled and annoying. As an audience we will care about the characters in the new film. They will not only be likable, but they are visually desirable; they are flawless models. At one point there is a wondrous tracking shot. Unfortunately, I can’t recall the setting, as Jessica Biel’s ass occupies the center of the screen. This indicates how the film will present and objectify the characters.

When Nispel and Bay set up identification of this sort, it creates a dichotomy of good versus evil that eliminates any meditation on the actual role of violence in our world. The characters are seen as too good to be true and not pertaining to reality. It’s a sad dumbing down of content, especially in a time when our country is again at war, and this sort of social commentary could have a certain resonance.

So, I have been walking around for a couple of weeks now thinking I was smarter than Michael Bay and Marcus Nispel, and it made me feel grand. However, as the rift between the Biel and I grew and grew, it was filled with bloodlust. I did not want that woman to be a part of my life because she had willingly shat on a movie near and dear to me. Admittedly, out of revenge, I wanted to inflict pain upon her. That’s when I realized that Michael Bay was not dumb. He is, in fact, some sort of evil genius that can help me enact my revenge on Jessica for tearing out my heart. I can’t wait to see Leatherface cut that pig.

By making the changes to Chainsaw, Bay and Nispel have freed me from the veal box of love-lost heartache! They have taken a movie that is difficult to watch because it so perfectly mimics real-life horror. Furthermore, it forces audiences to reflect on the society in which they live. They have re-envisioned the movie as a mindless roller coaster of exhilarating murder.

Why make audiences uncomfortable with polluted compositions, ugly confining spaces, sweat, dirt and dead meat? Why not have stylistic and pretty photography to show a brutal murder? That’s more like it. On the same note, why show the unsettling reality of the violence in our story? That stuff is icky. Who needs social commentary? We get enough of that in the news. The Middle East is a war zone, slightly resembling rural Texas, but we don’t want to get subtext like that mixed up in our story–how else can we forget what is really happening? If we do interpret the film with political implications, let’s not take a difficult position. Let’s keep waving the flag (the one we picked up watching Pearl Harbor), and make it a story of good versus evil. That way we can justify the killings and explain them away with that big, bad devil. I’m sure glad we don’t have to think during this movie. God, if we did we might just realize how Michael Bay, evil genius, is mutating us into retarded sadists. Thinking could get in the way of that ecstatic rush that comes over us when the object of our visual lust gets hung up on a hook, sliced and fed to us all pretty and raw.

Oh man, get Michael Bay’s camera crew ready, cause if Jessica Biel bleeds in this movie I think I might explode.