Tobe Hooper and Kim Henkel inspired a slew of "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" sequels, retellings and prequels. The latest falls into the latter category, and like director John Luessenhop's parallel-universe follow-up, "Texas Chainsaw 3D", this one has its sentimental moments, but that doesn't make it sappy. Really, there's no way to make a Leatherface tale Rockwellian, but to weave such an aura into such a story is the ironic key to keeping it creepy and even more so, memorable.
With this in mind, directors Alexandre Bustillo and Julien Maury have bestowed us with "Leatherface" (not to be confused with Jeff Burr's subtitled sequel, "Texas Chainsaw Massacre III"). Produced by the Hooper and Henkel and written by Seth M. Sherwood, this origin insert takes place within the '50s and '60s, before the classic original and links not only to that legendary shockfest, but also Luessenhop's offbeat extension. We now see Leatherface as a youngster named Jedidiah Sawyer, who gradually acquires the ways of Ed Gein: the real-life killer who inspired Hooper/Henkel and Gunnar Hansen's character and of course, Robert Bloch's Norman Bates.
Like Norman, little Jed (Boris Kabakchiev) is fond of his mom (or is she his aunt?), Verna (Lili "The Conjuring" Taylor), who hopes to teach him their clan's cannibalistic ways, but at first Jed is reluctant to indulge in the bloodshed and endures derision for of it.
When Betty (Lorina Kamburova), the daughter of Sheriff Hal Hartman (Stephen "Blade" Dorff), goes missing and the family falls under suspicion, Jed is dispatched to a mental institution, where he adapts the name, Jackson, and remains under the harsh care of Dr. Lang (Christopher "Pirates of the Caribbean" Adamson). During this adolescent period, the slender lad's potential to do harm appears nonexistent, making him temporarily unrecognizable from the burly, mythological beast we've come to know and fear.
In young adulthood, Jed is played with meritorious nuance by Sam Strike, who initially presents an awkward facade, which has nonetheless earned him a few demented friends within the institution (played with disconcerting effect by Sam Coleman; Jessica Madsen; and capturing the aura of a young Sid Haig, James Bloor), but when Verna pays an ill-fated visit, the group impulsively escapes, dragging pretty Nurse Lizzy White (Vanessa "Roboshark" Grasse) along for the ride. This brash move prompts Sheriff Hartman and the secret-harboring Deputy Sorrel (Finn "Iron Fist" Jones) to hunt them down. That the gang paves a murderous trail in their wake doesn't make it hard.
The nomadic (though ultimately full-circle) events turn "Leatherface" into a nightmarish Jack Kerouac (or perhaps more so, a variant on Rob Zombie's "Devil's Rejects"), where the worst aspects of self-discovery surface. Jed's unwitting need to conceal his identity (i.e., the reprehensible acts he's destined to perform) establishes a historic metamorphosis. What we witness is the veritable, though otherwise unsuspecting making of a monster, but not one without sympathy. We realize that if the variables had only swerved another way, Jed may not have become this saga's titular terror.
Jed's mental and physical transformation is enhanced by, and yet in opposition to, the film's idyllic '50s/'60s backdrops: clean on the outside, but as one might find in any David Lynch venture, grimy beneath. "Leatherface" becomes, as a result, a story of eroding innocence, both on a cultural and emotional level. (Traces of this are detectable in the opening birthday scene and prevail throughout the hospital sequences.) As Jed plunges into madness, losing his humanity along the way, we witness the end of a pretentiously perfect world. All that's good becomes bad; all that's light becomes dark: ideal for Leatherface's genesis.
This ground-floor angle makes the film as interesting as Luessenhop's, but instead of depicting Leatherface in later years, tottering between impish and brutish impulses, Sherwood's script gives us a well conceived, psychological springboard for that sorrowful culmination.
Leatherface's woeful condition doesn't make him or his story any less unnerving. For one thing, gorehounds will get more than their money's worth. At the same time, the film never becomes just another throwaway, slasher rehash. Though we face the expected, traditional trimmings of previous chapters, we're also exposed to what festers between their sadistic cracks.
It's too soon to say where this entry will rank in "Chainsaw'"s carnage queue. Some installments are favored more than others, after all. Nevertheless, Leatherface is too significant a character to be thrown to the wayside, no matter what the incarnation. A film that probes his deepest hows and whys is bound to be revisited and on that basis alone, guaranteed remembrance.
("Leatherface" is currently in limited, theatrical release and can be viewed through various pay-per-view venues.)
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