Tobe Hooper didn’t actually want to make a movie about a guy in a skin mask. Not at first. He was just frustrated, standing in the middle of a crowded Montgomery Ward department store during the 1972 Christmas rush, looking at a display of chainsaws and thinking, "I could get through this crowd so fast if I just started one of those up." That weird, intrusive thought birthed the Texas Chainsaw Massacre franchise, a series of movies that has arguably the most chaotic, nonsensical, and frustratingly inconsistent timeline in the history of cinema.
It's been over five decades since that van full of hippies ran out of gas in Newt, Texas. Since then, we’ve seen sequels, prequels, remakes of the sequels, and reboots that ignore everything except the original. It’s a mess. Honestly, it’s a beautiful, blood-soaked disaster. But why does Leatherface still have a grip on us? Why, when other slashers like Freddy or Jason have mostly retired to the bargain bin of nostalgia, does the Sawyer family—or the Hewitts, depending on which timeline you’re watching—keep coming back?
The 1974 Original: More Than Just a Slasher
People remember the first movie as a gore-fest. It isn’t. If you actually sit down and watch the 1974 The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (note the space in "Chain Saw" back then), there is surprisingly little blood on screen. Hooper was desperately aiming for a PG rating. He failed, obviously, getting an R instead, but the "violence" is mostly in your head. It’s the sound of the metal sliding, the screaming of Sally Hardesty, and the buzzing of that McCulloch chainsaw that does the heavy lifting.
What made the start of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre franchise so effective was its grittiness. It felt like a documentary. It felt like something you weren't supposed to be seeing. While Halloween felt like a polished suburban nightmare, Chainsaw felt like heatstroke and rotting meat. It tapped into a very specific post-Watergate, post-Vietnam cynicism. The government was lying, the gas was running out, and somewhere in the rural heartland, the old ways of "meat processing" were being applied to people.
Navigating the Nightmare Timelines
If you try to watch these movies in order, you’re going to get a headache. There is no "grand plan" here. This isn't the MCU. It’s a series of reactive choices by different studios trying to catch lightning in a bottle twice.
The Original Cannon: This includes the first movie and Hooper’s own 1986 sequel. Part 2 is a wild, neon-soaked dark comedy. Dennis Hopper plays a Texas Ranger with chainsaws in holsters. It’s polarizing, but it’s a masterpiece of weirdness. Then you have Leatherface: Texas Chainsaw Massacre III, which tries to be a gritty 90s slasher, and The Next Generation, which is famous mostly for featuring a young Matthew McConaughey and Renée Zellweger before they were stars. It’s also completely insane and involves a secret Illuminati conspiracy.
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The Platinum Dunes Era: In 2003, Marcus Nispel directed a remake. Purists hated the idea, but honestly? It worked. It was dark, mean, and looked expensive. It gave us R. Lee Ermey as the terrifying Sheriff Hoyt. This timeline got a prequel, The Beginning, and then just... stopped.
The "Ignore Everything Else" Reboots: This is the current trend. Texas Chainsaw 3D (2013) claimed to be a direct sequel to the 1974 film, famously featuring the "Do your thing, cuz!" line that fans still joke about. Then we got Leatherface (2017), a prequel about his childhood. Finally, the 2022 Netflix film Texas Chainsaw Massacre tried the "Legacy Sequel" route, bringing back a (re-cast) Sally Hardesty to face an aging Leatherface.
It’s confusing. You basically have to pick your own adventure.
Why Leatherface is the Most Human Monster
Unlike Michael Myers, who is "The Shape" or pure evil, or Jason Voorhees, who is a supernatural zombie, Leatherface (Jedidiah, Thomas, or Bubba, take your pick) is just a guy. He’s a big, terrified, mentally disabled man who is being manipulated by his family. In the first film, he isn't a predator; he's a protector. He’s scared of the people in his house.
That’s the secret sauce of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre franchise. There is a tragedy to it. The Sawyers are a family of displaced workers. The slaughterhouse went automated, and they were left behind. They’re a dark reflection of the American Dream gone sour. They still have "family dinner." They still respect their elders (even if Grandpa is a mummified corpse). It’s the domesticity that makes it creepy. Watching Leatherface put on a "pretty girl" mask to serve dinner is way more unsettling than a guy in a hockey mask jumping out of a bush.
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The Influence of Ed Gein
You can't talk about this franchise without mentioning Plainfield, Wisconsin. While the movie claims to be based on a "true story," it’s only loosely inspired by the crimes of Ed Gein. Gein didn't use a chainsaw. He didn't live in Texas. But he did make furniture and clothes out of human skin.
Hooper took that kernel of macabre reality and transposed it to the sweltering Texas heat. It changed how we look at rural horror. It created the "backwoods" trope where the city folk get lost and run into the "others." Without this franchise, we don't get The Hills Have Eyes, Wrong Turn, or even Resident Evil 7.
Breaking Down the 2022 Netflix Revival
The most recent entry in the Texas Chainsaw Massacre franchise was a massive hit for Netflix, but it split the fan base right down the middle. It tried to tackle modern themes—gentrification, social media, school shootings—and shove them into a slasher format.
Some fans loved the "Bus Scene," which is arguably one of the most brutal sequences in the entire series. Others felt that Leatherface shouldn't be a commentary on Gen Z. But that's the thing about this series: it evolves. It's always been about the friction between the old world and the new world. In 1974, it was hippies vs. slaughterhouse workers. In 2022, it was influencers vs. the ghosts of a dying town.
Key Elements That Define the Franchise
What do you need for a "Chainsaw" movie to actually feel like a "Chainsaw" movie? It’s not just the weapon.
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- The Heat: You should be able to feel the sweat. The best movies in the series use yellow and orange filters to make the environment feel oppressive.
- The Family: Leatherface alone is boring. He needs his brothers, his father figures, or his "Grandpa" to push him around.
- The Sound: That low-end rumble of the saw. It’s a mechanical growl.
- The Dinner Scene: Almost every film tries to replicate the harrowing dinner scene from the original. It’s the moment where the "final girl" realizes she isn't just going to die; she's going to be humiliated and toyed with.
How to Approach the Series Today
If you’re new to the Texas Chainsaw Massacre franchise, don't try to make sense of the lore. There is no lore. There is only the Saw.
Start with the 1974 original. It’s a masterpiece of tension. Then, go straight to the 1986 sequel if you want a laugh, or the 2003 remake if you want a genuine scare. Skip The Next Generation unless you’ve had a few drinks and want to see Matthew McConaughey jump off a roof with a mechanical leg.
The franchise is currently in a state of flux. With the rights shifting and the 2022 film proving there is still a massive audience, we are inevitably going to see more. There are rumors of a new "standalone" entry that might take the series back to its 70s roots once again.
Actionable Steps for Horror Fans
To get the most out of this franchise, you have to look beyond the gore.
- Watch the documentaries: The Texas Chain Saw Massacre: The Shocking Truth gives an incredible look at how miserable the original shoot was (110-degree heat, one shirt for each actor, rotting animal carcasses).
- Listen to the score: The 1974 soundtrack isn't music; it's industrial noise. It’s terrifying on its own.
- Support the creators: Check out the work of cinematography legend Daniel Pearl, who shot both the original 1974 film and the 2003 remake, providing a visual bridge between the two eras.
- Play the game: The 2023 Texas Chain Saw Massacre asymmetrical horror game is actually one of the most faithful recreations of the original film's atmosphere ever made. It’s a great way to experience the Sawyer house without, you know, being eaten.
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre franchise isn't about logic. It’s about the primal fear of being hunted in a place where no one can hear you scream. It’s about the breakdown of the American family. And as long as there are power tools and scary backroads, Leatherface will probably keep Revving that saw.