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: ****