THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE 2 (1986)
A radio host is victimized by the cannibal family as a former Texas Marshall hunts them.

A radio host is victimized by the cannibal family as a former Texas Marshall hunts them.
“The Texas Chainsaw Massacre has not stopped. It haunts Texas. It seems to have no end.” You could switch that title for any other slasher, and those last words would still hold meaning. By 1986, Friday the 13th (1980), Halloween (1978), and A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984) were all films primed to spawn blockbuster franchises. Even the prototype Norman Bates came back for more with Psycho II (1983) sans Alfred Hitchcock. The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974) tore into that foundational text like a rabid dog; Norman was based on Ed Gein, but ‘Leatherface’ was Ed Gein if he had crawled back up from Hell.
Tobe Hooper had directed eight films since TCSM put him on the map, and he was still haunted. Having signed a generous three-picture deal with Cannon Films, he’d just finished Invaders From Mars (1986) and decided it was time for a family reunion. The other boon Cannon offered was full creative control. TCSM was already a trip to Hell; now TCM2 was Hell with a budget.
Hooper did reunite with co-writer Kim Henkel for their ambitious pitch of “Beyond the Valley of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre”, featuring an entire town of cannibals alongside Leatherface, and a returning Sally and Hitchhiker. Despite the studio asking for a follow-up to one of the most unbridled horrors in cinema, they immediately baulked at such a grand concept. The eventual film, written by L.M Kit Carson, they accepted wasn’t far off in absurdity.
With an opening crawl, echoing the original’s prologue, one might be lulled into a sense of familiarity… then two rowdy teenagers sporting holographic glasses and blasting Oingo Boingo are firing a gun at ‘Remember the Alamo’ signs. Gone are the hippy-dippy Scooby-Doo gang of the 1970s. The peace signs and flowers of that era worked effectively as they stumbled head-first into the Manson family nightmare. Only a decade later, and we’re right in the midst of surviving Reaganomics; it’s a new massacre for a new world.
TCSM almost feels naive in its sweet innocence, wandering into the apocalyptic fringes of society. But Hooper was showcasing the societal rot from shifting politics; there was most certainly a satirical edge to be interpreted. But subtlety does little against an unrelenting and worsening barrage, and so the message needs to be screamed loud and clear.
What better way to start than those pumped-up yuppies calling the local disc jockey Vanita ‘Stretch’ Brock (Caroline Williams) just as they piss off the wrong passing truck. We’re actually situated to cheer on the corpse-wearing, chainsaw-wielding maniac who promptly shreds their car and heads. The first film slipped in the recurring glimpses of a world falling apart on the car radio. Here, our protagonist is the radio DJ, the voice of this little slice of Texas; how obvious can it be that Hooper has something to declare on the air?
All of this massacre is broadcast live on air, which prompts Stretch to visit Lt. ‘Lefty’ Enright (Dennis Hopper), who’s been nursing a grudge ever since he was the uncle to Sally and Franklin, who underwent the ordeal with Leatherface’s family 13 years ago.
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 offers an entirely different tone, one which should have been apparent from the one-sheet poster of the Sawyer family parodying The Breakfast Club (1985). More than a narrative change of pace, it seems a conscious reversal that audiences not only survived Massacre but enjoyed their trip; now the roadside attractions are invading your reality.
The once isolationist backwoods family have become local celebrities. Jim Siedow is the only returning star as the wonderfully deranged Drayton Sawyer, whose humble gas station barbecue joint is now winning the Texas/Oklahoma Chilli Cook-Off! Even as the hosts are pulling out what looks to be a human tooth from his awarded meat… Hooper once again suggesting that these monsters being celebrated and awarded are all but confessing to their crimes with where their “prime meat” comes from; it’s the brain-dead public you want to bash in the head with a hammer to wake them up.
The Hitchhiker (Edwin Neal) had been thoroughly crushed by a truck, so his ‘Nam-veteran brother Chop Top (Bill Moseley) takes his place. A twitchy ghoul in a Sonny Bono wig covering an exposed metal plate which he scrapes at with a heated coat-hanger. Moseley got the bonkers role after Hooper loved his impassioned performance in the parody short The Texas Chainsaw Manicure.
Much like the first film, these two siblings contest over who has the most memorable dialogue. Chop Top clinches it with “lick my plate, you dog dick!” But out of all the family, the growling behemoth Leatherface undergoes the most fascinating and bewildering character growth. Finally defined as a human being in his developing, yet stunted, maturity, even if it’s on par with a 14-year-old. Gunnar Hansen portrayed him with a broken psyche in the original, adopting alternate personalities with each face worn, while Hooper never lingered too long for audiences to comprehend a method behind the madness. Sadly, Hansen wouldn’t return, after being offered next to nothing in payment, but his two replacements do an admirable job.
Bill Johnson was hired first and brings a much brighter and comical light behind the once-dead eyes. Leatherface was confused as to why so many strangers were in his house in the first film; this time, there’s a constant curiosity about him meeting the beautiful Stretch that stirs something within. The other actor would be stuntman Bob Elmore, originally hired for one day for a single stunt but got the call the next day that poor Johnson could barely lift the genuine 75lb chainsaw. And so, after a while, Johnson ended up fighting for more screen time, as there aren’t many times you can get Leatherface away from his saw!
Both of them perform different dances with Stretch as Leatherface faces these adolescent awakenings. Teasing her inner thigh with his chainsaw, Hooper is responding to the emerging feminist critique of slashers that the male killer’s tool is often representing a more phallic tool. Every failed rev of his saw becomes a winking nod that this boy is still learning how to get his tool to perform for the ladies. When he finally gets to sticking it in an ice bath of sodas which spray all over a screaming Stretch, special effects legend Tom Savini says it best on the commentary: “He’s coming!!”
Beyond the juvenile boner comedy, there is some genuine character work at play with Leatherface. In a traumatic case of nature versus nurture, these strange new urges are running contrary to everything he knows; “the saw is family” and killing is the only way he earns love from his siblings. This new powerful emotion is asking him not to kill, and it’s downright wrong!
Responding to all this disturbing behaviour, Caroline Williams gives an volatile performance distinct from Marilyn Burns’ continuous terror. There are potentially more screams in this one film than in all the other slashers listed earlier, but you don’t mess with this Texan belle. There’s flight or fight, and she picks bite and claw and even chainsaw when challenging the good ol’ boys.
There are several quieter moments hidden between the riotous bombardment to the senses. Stretch comforts her dying friend LG (Lou Perryman), all while unwillingly wearing his sliced-off face. Lefty pauses the action to mourn over the skeletal remains of his nephew, still sitting in his wheelchair. But damn, that lights a fire in his heart, and he brings the vengeance…
The less said about Hopper’s performance, the purer the initial experience will be. If you have not seen this film yet: duelling chainsaws. In fact, perhaps even before I had seen anything from TCSM, I had seen this incredible balletic carnage on the earliest days of YouTube. By the time the third act starts, there isn’t a line of dialogue in Dennis Hopper’s script that isn’t all capitals. Still, he shows a pang of guilt for seeing Stretch involved in this; shades of any socio-political anguish, the self-sacrificial nature of mentally hardening yourself for the unavoidable culture war. You have to be tougher; you can’t show weakness; the enemy has no such emotion. We’ll never know if Leatherface felt regret when he chose his side.
There have been mixed talks on whether an actor with his prestige felt a horror sequel was beneath him; the quote floats around that this was the ‘most embarrassing moment in his career’, which he happily wrote in autographs. Then there’s the anecdote where, celebrating his 50th birthday on set, he cut the cake with a real chainsaw. What is known is that Hopper was recovering from a potential derailment in his life from substance abuse, and TCM2 and Blue Velvet (1986) were two films that saved him. In both, he channels that frightening inner turmoil, but by all accounts, he was a professional and a gentleman with all involved.
If TCSM is an undistilled rollercoaster of emotions, then TCM2 is an exploration into why people go on rollercoasters. Like Lefty assures Stretch, “They thrive on fear… I ain’t got no fear left”. Hooper overtly addresses violence in entertainment and our natural curiosity. The family have abandoned their modest farmhouse in favour of Texas Battle Land – a dilapidated theme park celebrating US warfare of the past.
Chop Top badgers Drayton with his dreams of “NAM LAND!” The cook gets frustrated whenever his daft siblings bring trouble into their home; he’s happy getting rich off the blood of the people and has the cheek to complain, “The small businessman always, always, always gets it in the ass!” as Lefty takes that literally with a saw. Most ironic in this indulgence of depravity is when Lefty saws through the support beams of their lair, threatening to “BRING IT ALL DOWN!!” when this endeavour would pave the way for franchising, with sequels still in production right now. It seems to have no end.
Well, all that mayhem nearly risked it all. The gore effects by Tom Savini and Co. are, as expected, quite incredible and stand up to scrutiny as Hooper pulls in extreme close-ups in restored Blu-ray quality. This resulted in them facing an X-rating, and they chose to go unrated, which allowed just a little more wriggle room in promoting it in any capacity. In fact, one of the only ways people knew about a brand new Chainsaw Massacre was the Breakfast Club parody billboard, which probably raised questions that it was all one big joke.
Editing by Alain Jakubowicz couldn’t save it, and the real reason several scenes were excised was more to keep the runtime tight, as they argued audiences would lose engagement with horror for any longer than 90-minutes. Two notable sequences lost, but saved in this release, are the sports fan massacre that sends limbs flying in every direction, and a cameo from critic Joe Bob Briggs, who rates his own death “three stars, that’s saw-fu!”
A credit to the edit: you wouldn’t realise the film was cut down through production, as Cannon were collapsing as a company and took back a million dollars from the budget to prop themselves up a little longer. Cast and crew have stated they had no idea quite how farcical this sequel was, as Carson was typewriting new script pages on the day to make up for lost money.
The eventual budget they had to work with was $4.5M, a sizeable increase from the original, made for less than a million. Unfortunately, the lack of promotion and polarising tone only mustered a gross of $8M, a paltry step down from the $30M profit with the first film. Initially derided for ignoring the original’s vérité style and minimal bloodshed, Hooper confused contemporary audiences with his experimentation.
One thing that carried over was Drayton’s speechifying about Grandpa’s shame with the meat industry, something that brings an entirely new message this time around. The cold, mechanical automation of the industry could easily be related to the money-sucking franchising of horror properties that began with authentic talents like John Carpenter, Wes Craven, and Hooper. Having been scrutinised by the public, who insisted the mainstream Poltergeist (1982) must have been directed by Steven Spielberg, Hooper could have quit just like Grandpa and let someone else grind his vision down into a pale imitation. Instead, Hooper picked up that hammer and showed the world he could still deliver a killing blow.
USA | 1986 | 101 MINUTES | 1.85:1 | COLOUR | ENGLISH
director: Tobe Hooper.
writer: L.M Kit Carson.
starring: Dennis Hopper, Caroline Williams, Bill Moseley, Jim Siedow, Bill Johnson, Lou Perryman, Chris Douridas & Ken Evert.