The Texas Chain Saw Massacre

Right off the bat, Tobe Hooper's The Texas Chain Saw Massacre shows that it's not in the vicinity of messing around. After all, this was a post-Night of the Living Dead world Hollywood was working in. Gone were the days of horror playing it safe -- there was some fresh blood on the scene, and they wanted to see it spill.

Now The Texas Chain Saw Massacre was made when anyone with a working camera and a decent enough script could make a movie, the clutches of the big studios having weakened with the creation of the MPAA. Hooper was fortunate to have arrived on the scene at this time, showing that his idea co-penned with Kim Henkel hit a nerve with audiences. (Case in point, this was nearly rated X -- the harshest rating the MPAA could dole out at the time -- for how grisly it was.)

The theme in The Texas Chain Saw Massacre of something wicked lurking beneath everyday life (as also seen in Hooper's later film Poltergeist) had also played a part in Hooper's own life, courtesy of an event that happened in his native Texas as he attended college. In August 1966, a gunman opened fire on the campus, with a police officer telling Hooper to stay put -- and promptly getting shot dead near Hooper moments later. Fact can be scarier than fiction.

Like Psycho the previous decade, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre used the actions of Ed Gein as inspiration -- more specifically, the gruesome horror show the police had stumbled upon within Gein's home. The sheer depravity of Gein's broken mind is recreated by Hooper, showing how one's normalcy can mask something truly unholy. (Again, also seen in other Hooper titles.)

The Texas Chain Saw Massacre indicated (and vindicated) that there was a drastic change within Hollywood underway, one that wanted the guts (both figurative and literal) to be on full display. And with Jaws the following year, it was raw and unflinching, proving that the Hollywood of the previous generation was long gone. And a new one was just getting started.

My Rating: *****

The Birdcage

It tends to be a surprise at how well some works hold up amid the passage of time. The people involved may have passed on since then, but it's how the story has endured that stands out. Several sensibilities have shifted, but it proves to be ahead of its own time.

Take, for instance, Mike Nichols' The Birdcage. Made when the queer community served as little more than a demeaning punchline, it itself shows how unwarranted such "jokes" are, instead showing them in a more sympathetic light. If anything, the butt of the jokes (courtesy of Elaine May's script) are the uptight conservatives whose myopic views are unfortunately still rampant today.

That said, there are moments in The Birdcage that very much date it. The stereotypes are leaned into a bit too broadly at times. (Granted, this was a few years before Will & Grace hit the airwaves, but still.) However, once the first impression has been scraped back, there's more depth to the characters, giving them the dignity they were denied the previous decade. Small steps, but progress all the same.

As expected from a Nichols production, The Birdcage gets some solid work from its roster of actors. There's an irony in there being a film starring Robin Williams (playing the ironic "straight man") where he gets overshadowed by Gene Hackman (not long after his Oscar win for Unforgiven) when it comes to laughs (case in point: the closing scene). Just goes to show that Nichols was good at his job. (One doesn't become an EGOT winner from just showing up, after all.)

The Birdcage may be a product of its time on occasion, but it still treats its subjects better than other similar works of the era. In the time since its release, things have fluctuated between improving and declining for the queer community. One thing, however, has remained consistent: they aren't taking things lying down.

My Rating: ****

Film and Book Tally 2025

Boy, was this year garbage or what? With politics going into the toilet, big names dropping like flies, and everything being on figurative and literal fire, I think it's safe to say we're all glad to move on from 2025.

Anyway, onto the tally!

Mississippi Burning

There's a real ugliness in people, a festering sickness in one's soul that emerges time and time again. And it's shown its presence throughout history, its effects lingering for decades after. Worse still, it's something that never fully disappears.

Alan Parker's Mississippi Burning isn't just simmering in hatred -- it's full-on marinated in it. (It's telling that non-American directors are more than willing to expose America's hideousness.) It may have been a few decades after the film's setting but as the coming years would also show, very little had changed.

Frustratingly, for a film about the civil rights movement, Mississippi Burning doesn't put a lot of focus on the Black characters. Preferring to spotlight the agents played by Gene Hackman and Willem Dafoe, the film only gives the Black characters any attention when they're about to be subjected to violence, as they're being brutalized, or as they're licking their figurative and literal wounds -- in other words, they only exist to suffer. Were this made today, that would absolutely not happen.

That aspect aside, Mississippi Burning is captured stunningly by cinematographer Peter Biziou. You can practically feel the Mississippi heat through the screen, the smell of the swamps. It's little wonder that Biziou was a regular for Parker (and that his work got him an Oscar).

Mississippi Burning is very much not an easy watch. (Then again, what else would one expect from the man responsible for Midnight Express the previous decade?) To say things have changed since both the setting's time period and the film's release would be a colossal lie. If anything, we're repeating what had happened ad nauseam.

My Rating: ****

Fun with Dick and Jane

The opening credits of Ted Kotcheff's Fun with Dick and Jane shows how the titular couple grew up, met, and settled into the American Dream. A comfy life, for sure...and then Dick (George Segal) gets sacked from his job. Soon, he and Jane (Jane Fonda) struggle to both make ends meet and keep up appearances.

But desperate times call for very desperate measures. Dick comes up with committing robberies to keep food on the table. Jane gets involved as well, and things seem to be going well. But how long can they keep this up?

Made during a time where everyone was feeling financial strain, Fun with Dick and Jane probably seemed absurd to certain audiences upon its release. In hindsight, however, it paints a far more cynical picture. Once one reaches a particular standing in society, others feel schadenfreude at seeing them fall from grace.

Speaking of, Fun with Dick and Jane portrays its setting as a dog-eat-dog world. You have to stoop to levels you'd normally never stoop to. Your self-respect takes a backseat as you try to survive. And after a while, you don't recognize your own reflection.

Fun with Dick and Jane still holds up after nearly a half a century. Aside from a few jokes that aged like milk in the August afternoon sun, you could remake this beat for beat. Just goes to show that the more things change, the more things stay the same.

My Rating: ****

The In-Laws

Comedy is a hard thing to get right. What's funny in one decade could be seen as offensive in the next decade. It's all a matter of making sure you hit your mark without any mistakes along the way.

So you could imagine the undertaking Andrew Bergman went through in writing Arthur Hiller's The In-Laws. A few years after the success of Blazing Saddles (he co-wrote it), he was tasked with writing the script for a picture that was to star Peter Falk and Alan Arkin. (It was initially going to be a sequel to Freebie and the Bean, which had also starred Arkin.) Knowing the potential that could be mined from the two actors, Bergman took on the opportunity.

While a little slow in its build-up, The In-Laws goes out on all pistons running. Falk plays with his Columbo persona, seemingly not all there but very much is. Arkin, meanwhile, plays the straight man to Falk beautifully. It's a shame the two didn't work together more after this.

Now Hiller isn't the kind of director you'd associate with this type of picture, having made Love Story earlier in the decade. But bear in mind that just three years earlier, Hiller made Silver Streak, which starred Gene Wilder and Richard Pryor. He may not have done comedy often during his career but Hiller knew how to get the beats down.

The In-Laws may be one of the more underappreciated comedies of the last half century. It takes someone who really knows what they're doing to get something like this right. Thankfully, it's directed by, written by, and stars such people.

My Rating: ****1/2

Trapeze

Carol Reed is one of the names most synonymous with the film noir genre. With other genres, there always seemed to be something amiss. Most of the time, it has to do with the picture being more about style than substance. Still, some of the tricks Reed learned from his noir pictures show up in these.

Take, for instance, Trapeze. Being one of his few films made in Hollywood, Reed has more of a scale to work on than Odd Man Out and The Third Man the previous decade. But as was commonplace for titles of the time, having more isn't always a good thing. It tries to put in too much with a two-hour runtime.

Starring in Trapeze are Burt Lancaster, Tony Curtis, and Gina Lollobrigida, all of whom as the film's living eye candy. Of them, Lollobrigida (and co-star Katy Jurado) has the more substantial role, acting as the classic femme fatale in some scenes. (Amusingly, Lancaster and Curtis' earlier interactions are similar -- albeit less cynical -- to what they'd do in Sweet Smell of Success the following year.)

Now Trapeze was shot in CinemaScope, and boy, does it show. The sweeping shots of the circus interiors courtesy of Robert Krasker proves that cinema can lead to something beautiful. The problem is that the general picture relies more on the images than the story that goes with them. Such is life.

Trapeze is by all accounts the standard spectacle picture of the 1950s but it still has its moments. A little bit more time spent on the script would've benefited it greatly. But all in all, it's the kind of film you can't see yourself watching again...unless you're in that kind of mood.

My Rating: ***1/2

Mortuary

With so many names who grew up on B-movies end up making movies themselves, it's little surprise that such titles would inspire their own work. Be it cheeky homages or full-on dedications, what were initially written off as cheap productions have had a more lasting impression than intended. And none more so than horror pictures.

Howard Avedis' Mortuary certainly plays up the various elements found in B-movies. It's admittedly self-aware in its cheapness, which is more than can be said about other titles from the same time. That said, it's clear that said belt-tightening affected the quality of the overall script. (Honestly, a student film is better written than this.)

Being released in the shadow of titles like Suspiria and Halloween (ironically, both of which were blatantly cribbed here), Mortuary feels completely lackluster in comparison. It's not just about depicting decent scares; it's about building suspense for the scares. That's key to horror.

If there's one redeeming aspect of Mortuary, it's that it features Bill Paxton early in his career. Being one of the few actors who elevated a movie's quality from his presence, it's clear that Paxton approached the script differently than his co-stars. Regardless, movies lost something when he died in 2017.

Mortuary is very much lacking in its many moving parts. With a barely cohesive script, it's the kind of picture that a new-on-the-scene actor typically does so they can make rent. Still, Paxton just barely saves it from complete unwatchability. Faint praise, yes, but it's all it earns.

My Rating: ***

At Close Range

Fact is often stranger than fiction. It's why people are so drawn to true crime, and why Hollywood practically drools over the potential money it'll make. And it shows how the most unexpected people will do the most unexpected things.

Take, for instance, one Bruce Johnston, Sr. He and his gang of thieves -- some were his own family members -- terrorized Chester and Lancaster Counties in Pennsylvania for years before his criminal empire crumbled. A few years after Johnston and his crew were sent up the river, James Foley's At Close Range was released. Naturally, names were changed, but that doesn't make it any less unsettling.

What makes At Close Range stand out is that it's not set in some thriving metropolis (as most neo-noirs are) but rather the rural outskirts of it. The sweeping farmlands and small storefronts provide a stark contrast to the neon lights and tall buildings. After all, more secrets can be hidden when you know your neighbors.

But in watching At Close Range, it becomes bittersweet in seeing what became of Foley's career. Between the success of this and Glengarry Glen Ross six years later, it looked like everything would be in his favor. But as is the case with any promising career in Hollywood, it didn't pan out that way. (Sure, he had success with television but his more recent film entries are...eesh.)

At Close Range is an understated work on the strength of family ties. With strong work from Sean Penn and Christopher Walken, it depicts the poisonous grasp sometimes found within a family. Blood may be thicker than water but in this instance, it spills just as easily.

My Rating: ****1/2

Spontaneous Combustion

Tobe Hooper has always been something of an anomaly within Hollywood. After hitting it big with The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, he never seemed to reach the same heights afterward. (Even the success of Poltergeist continues to be overshadowed by rumors that Steven Spielberg actually directed it.) Though he shifted to television soon after, that's not to discredit his film work completely.

Now Spontaneous Combustion is hardly top-tier material from Hooper (or from anyone involved in this, really), but it still gets the job done. But boy, even then it's tough to get through at times. (Oh, the plights of late '80s-early '90s horror flicks.)

That's not to say Spontaneous Combustion is completely terrible, far from it. Hooper had a good idea for his picture, make no mistake; the problem is that everything around it stumbles at the starting gate. (Honestly, most of the actors oversell the half-hearted dialogue.)

Of course, there is one shining grace to Spontaneous Combustion: its star, Brad Dourif. Being the kind of actor who knows how to work with what he's given, he elevates the otherwise lackluster title. Though one has to wonder how much of a role Child's Play had on his casting here...

Spontaneous Combustion is by no means a masterpiece both Hooper and Dourif make it mostly tolerable. Though in watching this, it makes one think a retrospective on Hooper is due. Sure, there were some following his death in 2017, but there could stand to be a few more...even if a lot of his output fell flat.

My Rating: ***