Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Origin
Jordana Brewster

There are times that I feel like this nation is living through a movie sequel. I just hope the sequel we are living through is the next installment of the classic Peter Sellers’ black comedy Being There. It is one of my favorite movies of all times and I have probably watched it over a hundred times. For those of you who have never seen it or those of you who have a life, Being There is the story of a simpleton named Chance. He cannot read or write and has spent all of life taking care of the old man’s garden. His only other joy is watching television. One day while sitting around waiting for his meal, the maid comes in and tells him that the old man is dead. Cast out into the world, he wonders aimlessly around Washington DC until he is hit by Shirley MacLaine’s limo. She mistakes him for a man of culture and influence. As he recovers, he stays with MacLaine and her husband played by Melvyn Douglas, a close friend and advisor to the President of the United States. Chance’s simplistic utterances about taking care of his garden are taken as “sage wisdom” by the rich and powerful. Almost everyone who comes across him in the course of the film sees what he or she wants to see in him. The movie ends with a funeral where the pallbearers, political power brokers, discuss who they will make the next President of the United States. They all agree that the perfect candidate is Chance. The last scene in the film turns the entire film on its head. With just a simple walk, you realize that Chance is not the feebleminded idiot you thought he was.
Everyday I hope that George W. Bush’s Presidency is really Being There 2: The Presidency. That this man who often appears like a deer in headlights, this blind man in a room full of deaf people, is really Chance. Even though this war in Iraq seems to have no planning or exit strategy, that even though it seems like we have fallen into a pile of manure, somehow we are going to dig ourselves out with a diamond between our cheeks. I want this insane policy that you don’t carry on diplomatic relations with countries like Iran and Korea and then openly talk about overthrowing them, does not to lead to a more hostile world, but leads to democratic paradise. With George’s seeming disinterest in protecting the national borders, in saving future generations from the consequences of global warming, and preserving the American middle class as jobs pour overseas, I want to wake up ten years from now and realize that sly old dog pulled a rabbit out of his hat. I want to be wrong. I want that Texas simpleton to walk on water.
I don’t want us to be living out the sequel to Texas Chainsaw Massacre. It is a nasty, brutal, cynical movie. It is just a cash grab by a small group of investors. There is no art. No joy. It is just dark and needless. It is easy to see why such a film was made. While the first film cost only $9 million to make, it took in $80 million at the box office. Kind of like the payoff the oil companies got by making sure W. got elected. I don’t want to see further adventures of Dick Cheney, (I mean Leatherface) and his pals. Give me a film with faith in humanity. It is a film that helps us discover our better nature. Just give me a story about a pretty girl in a black dress and the guy who wants to win her heart. Put away the chainsaws, the violence, and brutality. Give me something about a kid and his dog, or a Stooge’s short, anything but this mindless, uncreative horror. I just don’t want this Texas Chainsaw Massacre that is happening to this nation.
I want to put this movie into perspective. A few weeks ago I was walking my dog on a Monday at two o’clock in the morning. I couldn’t sleep and my pooch tends to want to be everyone’s best friend. So, it was the perfect time to be out. Not a soul in sight as we walked down the center of main street. I swear, I heard God say, “Do you want to see something funny?” I felt something pop in my lower back. One step, two steps, the next thing I know my hands are on my knees like I am back playing football and standing in the huddle ready to receive a play from the quarterback. The only way I can describe how my back felt is to imagine two cats fighting in a bag of glass. Pretty soon, I am lying on the ground. And God said, “Do you want to see something really funny?” It starts to sprinkle. Again, God said, “Do you want to see something really, really funny?” You know the old joke about blaming the dog. Well, there were only two of us there and I know it wasn’t me. While God wasn’t really providing commentary, at certain points in your life, you feel that you must be the punch line to some divine joke. This movie leaves you with that feeling. I have avoided talking about the plot of this knife/kill flick because there is nothing new. If you have seen one of these films, you know the plot of this one. I would rather lie in the middle of a street, my back feeling like I am the magician’s assistant being sawed in half, as my dog reminds me why I shouldn’t feed him table scraps, than sit through one more minute of this picture.
If you’re older than 25, rent a dvd. Read a good book. Soak in the bath. If you’re a teenage boy take your sweetie to the submarine races. Pitch a little woo. Lie to your buddies about what a stud you are. Waste a few more hours playing some brain dead first person shooter video game. Last Christmas, my brother’s ex-girlfriend called him the biggest emotional retard she has ever met. He responded by telling her that she has not met his brothers. Thus kicked off the big holiday debate of who should be first in line to ride the emotional short yellow bus. I knew enough to keep quite. Because the moment I opened my mouth, they all would look at me and the answer would have been clear. Well, if you want the answer to that question, just park your car in front of the nearest movie theater and watch for who purchases tickets to this sequel.

Verdict: Awful