Who will survive and what will be left of them?
Travel in the country, long-range plans and upsetting persons around you could make this a disturbing and unpredictable day. This must be the Sunday Scaries!
There will be no morning for us.
~ Dracula, Prince of Darkness (1966)
Welcome back to Sunday Scaries, though lately it feels like we’re having them every day of the week.
Early on in the documentary Chain Reactions, now streaming on Shudder, Patton Oswalt strides about onstage and tells an audience that a film’s title should tell you exactly what to expect and then gives what he considers to be the perfect example: The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. And there is no doubt, it is a compelling and direct description of exactly what happens in the film, though in some ways it is also misleading and deliberately off-putting. (No audience for a movie has ever been more self-selecting.) As we hear in the documentary’s selection of testimonies from directors, writers and critics, the film is about more that what its title states, and is arguably about much more: it is a disreputable grindhouse exploitation picture, yes, but one that is shot through moment by moment with a kind of beauty and poetry that sharply contrasts against its subject matter, and almost as an aside takes on the entire mythology of America and the stories it tells itself about itself as it literally eats its young.

It is always interesting to see which films garner numerous sequels and remakes, how stories turn into myths and what needs they fulfill. This is a story told by Americans to Americans about the failures of the American Dream, about a kind of family that rarely took centre stage in the movies and on TV, told again and again, for more than 50 years. In a daring and amusing parody of the Lady of the Lake scene in Excalibur, III’s trailer stated: “Some tales are told, then soon forgotten. But a legend is forever.”
It occurs to me that some of my readers may never have watched the film, whether at a rundown second-run house or a spiffy cinematheque, or at the square end of a shoebox in a multiplex for that matter, or at a dreary drive-in with crackly speakers or on late-night TV with the sound turned down so that no one in the house can hear, or now on one of a dozen streaming services or even downloaded to your computer. So let me first say: do something about that now. Whatever you may think TCSM is, it is even more wrong and strange and unsettling and eccentric and of-kilter and darkly funny and squirm-inducing and devastating and recognizable than you can anticipate. It is gruesome, with its various bones and body parts—but with barely any blood to speak of, it implies much more than it shows, and is all the more effective for it. It has also never been more relevant.
I’d also recommend watching Chain Reactions. While it’s a bit thin on analysis and has little new to say to those who are familiar with the decades of TCSM discourse, it does offer some fresh insights and an interesting range of voices: Patton Oswalt, Stephen King, Karyn Kusama, Takashi Miike and Alexandra Heller-Nicholas (whose thoughts on the film’s parallels with Australian cinema are especially fascinating). They are all quite passionate about a film that at one time couldn’t be discussed at the dinner table, and are open about its influence on their work and worldview. They also see it as a story that speaks to us today as much as it did a half-century ago, and that will continue to do so for many years to come.
Currently watching: We are in the final stretch of The Traitors UK which remains outrageous and infuriating in roughly equal amounts, and for my money is the best show going. However I may feel about any of the participants (and there’ve been a few I’ve wanted to murder myself), I know I would absolutely flop at this game and be shot out the door with a cannon. I am so very seated for the upcoming finale.
On an unrelated topic, I am currently playing and greatly enjoying an ‘ambient narrative management game’ called Tiny Bookshop, available on Steam and the Nintendo Switch. You drive your little trailer bookstore around from town to town and meet the locals and try to match whatever you have in stock to their requests. It could not be more charming, and is a much-needed escape from absolutely everything.
This week in horror: It’s been ten years since the death of David Bowie. If you have an hour to spare, watch this wonderful tribute by Radio Soulwax on Vimeo.
Cool Story, Bro: I’ve got two for you this week. First off is Home is a Relative Term by Christopher Gonzalez on Short Story, Long (“He never tells me his name.”); the second is Enthrall! by Stephanie Feldman, over at Hex Literary. (“The children saw their chance.”) Two great first lines, two great tales. Enjoy!
And that brings us to the end of this evening’s adventure. Until next time, just remember: "There are moments when we cannot believe that what is happening is really true. Pinch yourself and you may find out that it is."