Despite being routinely dismissed as a messy sequel, Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Next Generation succeeds as a subversive satire on the slasher franchise’s legacy.
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is a franchise that’s been tackled from many different angles, which have led to a slew of sequels, reboots, perpetual prequels, and even comic book expansions and Mortal Kombat cameos. Tobe Hooper’s 1974 original movie is still regarded as an evergreen classic, yet most of its successors struggle to grasp what made the original so successful. The recent announcement that Obsession’s Curry Barker will be throwing his hat in the ring provides some genuine hope for a solid film that properly taps into the right themes and types of terror.
Many view Texas Chain Saw Massacre’s sequels as diminishing returns, and it’s easy to see why the fourth entry, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Next Generation (originally The Return of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre), was initially regarded as a mess and disappointment. However, this unassuming sequel is as clever and ambitious a response to the first film as The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Part 2. The Next Generation is a surprisingly meta endeavor that reflexively critiques the franchise, its legacy, and the fandom surrounding it, and it feels closer in tone to many modern horror films and legacy sequels. As Barker gets ready to revive the franchise and filter it through a new lens, it’s the perfect time to revisit its most controversial and misunderstood entry.
Kim Henkel, the original Texas Chain Saw Massacre’s co-writer, makes his directorial debut as he writes and directs this subversive follow-up. Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Next Generation doesn’t reinvent the wheel, but its formulaic and familiar nature is part of the point that Henkel wants to make. The film looks at Jenny (Renée Zellweger) and her friends attending prom, only for their car trouble to throw things terribly off course. What follows is technically a sequel, but one could argue that it also works as a satirical, cynical remake of the original, right down to how certain sequences are shot-for-shot recreations of it. There’s this intentional reflexivity present as The Next Generation reflects on the youth from two decades later and in doing so highlights how much America – and horror – have changed since the ‘70s. This isn’t the worst idea, let alone for a franchise like Texas Chainsaw Massacre that’s always been about holding a mirror up to the parts of society that we don’t want to acknowledge.
The most important thing to understand about The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Next Generation is that it’s meant to be a satire. There are so many egregious horror sequels from the ‘90s that the film’s subversive inclinations are often viewed as awkward and tone-deaf affectations. Everything that’s being done in this movie is incredibly intentional and a direct response not just to what preceded it, but also to the audience’s and critics’ reception of it all. It’s a takedown of ‘90s horror audiences and what they want from a Texas Chainsaw Massacre sequel, not unlike how Joker 2 and, to some extent, The Matrix Resurrections reflexively comment on their own unwieldy legacies and how their messages have been reappropriated by fandom. The Next Generation is an attempt to dress down this audience and regain control of the narrative, albeit in a deeply destructive and unconventional manner.
The film’s wry sense of humor is telegraphed right from the opening on-screen text, which has always been a franchise staple. It perfectly sets up the satirical tone for this absurdist sequel/reimagining. The text’s acknowledgment of “two minor, yet apparently related incidents” is its tongue-in-cheek way of mocking The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Part 2 and Leatherface: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre III, while still confirming that they are, in fact, canon. It pokes fun at long-running franchises’ bloated lore and cumbersome mythology before then heading into its own take on a twisted sequel that’s set in the same world. It makes a lot of sense to turn this expository info-dump and tone-setter into a farce that simultaneously sets the stage for what’s to come.
The first real shot of the film is Zellweger’s Jenny carefully applying lipstick while she gets ready for prom. This sequence is later replicated in a match cut where Leatherface does the same thing. Not much later, sweet and playful prom photos are accented with the signature string sound effect that the franchise uses to signify horror. In doing so, it’s as if The Next Generation is arguing that these humble moments of normalcy are just as twisted as anything that takes place in the Slaughter household.
From the film’s first scene, there’s evidence to suggest that The Next Generation’s moral compass and tone are completely warped. Even normal isn’t normal in this movie, and the lines are blurred. In one scene, a horny prom date talks about cancer and how death could come at any moment in the same conversation that he discusses post-prom sex with his girlfriend. It beautifully articulates how life and death are intrinsically intertwined in horror, even before everything goes wrong and the body count accrues.
Henkel intentionally constructed these characters to be broad caricatures of the ’90s American youth. It’s a decision that pays off so well when this film is viewed decades later, and its exaggerated depiction of teenagers is basically the norm in its horror peers of the decade. These heightened performances also hit a lot harder when two Academy Award-winning actors are giving them life. Henkel couldn’t have predicted that this casting would work this well and create even deeper meta commentary. Their star power has helped reframe the narrative and give a maligned sequel an attempt at “mainstream” success. It’s exactly the sort of anarchy that Tobe Hooper loves.
It’s also just so interesting to see Jenny play into the horror genre’s many cliches, albeit with a certain confidence and knowledge that allows her to rise above it. Jenny is a character who says things like, “Something bad is going to happen. I can feel it,” and “Sorry if we’re all going to die!” Her dialogue almost plays like a parody once these characters first experience danger and need to make a “Horror Movie Decision.” However, this all comes from a writer who knows exactly what he’s doing and makes sure that the performances are also directed to perfection, and hit the right notes.
There are moments when Jenny almost feels like a proto-Randy Meeks from Scream. She’s hyper-aware of the murderous and evil people that fill the world, yet is still destined to become a victim. Sally Hardesty from the original Texas Chain Saw is also a final girl who escapes and survives. The difference here is that Jenny is given even greater agency not just by making it out of a horror film, but by ostensibly breaking the genre. It feels like she’s a minute away from stepping out of the screen to enter the real world.
Jenny also breaks the mold in the sense that she’s not a part of some devoted couple who is meant to be together. These characters can’t stand one another. They’re insulting each other until the moment that they’re attacked. It’s another way in which The Next Generation intentionally subverts the expectations of a Texas Chainsaw Massacre film and the horror genre in general. On a similar note, most Texas Chainsaw Massacre films take their time when it comes to revealing the kindly locals who are actually in with the Sawyer (now Slaughter) family. The Next Generation immediately pulls the pin on this with Matthew McConaughey’s Vilmer. Vilmer inexplicably has a pneumatically-powered mechanical leg that makes him look like some C-tier Batman villain. He’s a battery-obsessed conspiracy theorist sociopath. The last thing that he does is blend in and look normal. He’s absurdly suspicious from the moment that he’s seen.
The cattle prod torture scenes toward the end are honestly hard to watch, but McConaughey’s hyperbolically cruel behavior almost reads like a funhouse mirror distortion of what a horror villain should look like. It’s so out of control that it’s hard to take seriously. It really feels like Henkel just let McConaughey run wild and ad lib, which leads to such an unhinged performance. He even kicks off a scene with his signature, “Alright, alright, alright.” What’s equally insane is the most yokel-ish member of the Slaughter family, “W.E.” (Joe Stevens), who repeatedly quotes famous historical figures and philosophers as if he’s some idiot savant. It’s one of the film’s oddest touches, but another detail that perfectly establishes the satirical tone that’s in play here. Zellweger and McConaughey are both really good in these roles. They commit to the bit, rather than just doing the bare minimum. Their performances would stand out even if they didn’t go on to become so famous.
The Next Generation also has a lot of fun with its presentation of Leatherface, who is always the franchise’s most fascinating cipher. This version of Leatherface is comically bad at what he does. He attempts to lock Jenny in a freezer, only for her to open it and attempt to escape, while Leatherface screams in frustration and breaks down. He struggles every step of the way, even when it’s a completely open space with no obstacles. At one point, he’s needlessly chainsawing away at his chimney like some video game character who’s starting to glitch out. Jenny literally tells Leatherface to “sit down and shut the fuck up” at one point, and he does exactly that. He’s the opposite of scary, which might understandably frustrate staunch Leatherface fans who don’t like seeing this character rendered into a useless, bumbling buffoon. That’s completely valid, but it also feeds into what Henkel is trying to accomplish with this sequel as he tears the franchise down.
This arguably reaches its apex when The Next Generation provides its version of the franchise’s infamous dinner scene, in which the Slaughter family is eating chain restaurant pizza instead of rotting meat or anything objectionable. The Slaughters have become the epitome of Americana, ordering out just like everyone else, which, in a way, makes this tableau even more unsettling. It’s one step away from Leatherface eating McDonald’s with his family. The saw is family, and family is America. Even Henkel’s casting of a new Leatherface (Robert Jacks) comes across as an intentional move to break free from the traditions of the past and demystifies the legend of Leatherface.
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Next Generation is a fairly paint-by-numbers sequel until its final ten minutes, which engage in such a gonzo twist that’s akin to a Samuel Beckett play or Charlie Kaufman script. Rothman (James Gale), a strange man in a suit who looks like a studio executive, confidently walks into the Slaughter house and completely flips the script, utterly terrifies Vilmer, and functions as the crucial Rosetta Stone that helps all this make sense. Rothman explicitly delivers the film’s mission statement and announces, “It’s very simple. I want these people to know the meaning of horror.”
Rothman basically interrupts the movie to aggressively break the fourth wall and attack Vilmer for messing up this exercise in terror. It truly feels like a movie executive pulling the director aside to remind them of the point of all this and to not go too far off course. It’s a wild turn that’s then followed up with an ending that riffs on the original film’s beloved finale, but then inexplicably mixes it together with Alfred Hitchcock’s North by Northwest for no other reason than cinema!
In an extremely meta move, Rothman explains to Jenny that these vicious attacks were supposed to be a spiritual experience that provides a sense of harmony and enlightenment through the freedom of true fear. Rothman reveals that boogeymen like Leatherface exist as a way to make people feel something and be grateful to be alive. This entire final girl experience is reduced to an orchestrated action so that Jenny can seize the world. It’s a highly ambitious pivot that would still be controversial if it were done today. It’s incredibly prescient in this department and decades ahead of comparable films that explore the artifice and intention behind horror, like Pascal Laugier’s Martyrs and The Cabin in the Woods. The way in which Rothman and his Illuminati-esque cult are meant to be a response to society’s growing desensitization to death is another forward-thinking element that’s been echoed in recent horror films like 2026’s Faces of Death remake.
The transcendence that Rothman speaks of was the intended plan, but his interruption takes place because this has all endlessly fallen short. This cloak-and-dagger puppet master basically apologizes for all the bizarre behavior that’s led Jenny up to this point and bluntly asks her—and the audience—to forgive him for this failure. What follows is a gloriously recursive monologue that might as well be delivered directly to the camera from Henkel:
“This…All of this…It’s been an abomination. You really must accept my sincere apologies. It was supposed to be a spiritual experience. I can’t tell you how disappointed I am.“
It’s a blatant acknowledgment that all this has gone off the rails. This is followed by the whole Texas Chainsaw Massacre universe collapsing in on itself when Jenny runs into an incapacitated Sally Hardesty (Marilyn Burns) at the hospital, alongside John Dugan and Paul A. Partain from the original film, as she experiences some cosmic form of déjà vu. It’s an absolutely insane way to conclude the Texas Chainsaw Massacre franchise until the remake arrived nearly a decade later.
This meta turn seems like it comes from nowhere, but there are many examples of Rothman’s team hiding in plain sight and clues that tease the bigger picture. The word “Illuminati” is written on vehicles and subconsciously embedded into scenes to allude to Rothman’s secret society. Vilmer’s line, “Scaring you? You’re not scared. You don’t know shit about being scared, little girl. Not yet,” just seems like an antagonistic line at first, but it foreshadows how each step of this has been calculated for the express purpose of terrifying Jenny and turning her into the heroic final girl that she needs to be. It’s no coincidence that Jenny is later told, “Welcome to the real world.” It’s another cryptic hint of the manufactured horror scenario that she’s trapped in until the cycle eventually breaks. “Live and learn,” after all.
Henkel creates something special with The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Next Generation that cuts to the very core of the genre in an attempt to reclaim this territory and redeem the ‘90s’ struggling horror identity crisis. It’s unfortunate that such a unique approach wasn’t understood or encouraged in ‘95, especially with this film sandwiched between meta horror slashers Wes Craven’s New Nightmare and Scream in ‘94 and ‘96. Not only was The Next Generation retitled and reedited, but it was held on the shelf for nearly two years before it was released in twenty cities on August 29, 1997. The overall gross between its two releases in ‘95 and ‘97 failed to break even $200,000 at the box office, which makes The Next Generation the poorest-performing Texas Chainsaw Massacre film to date. While disappointing, this isn’t exactly unexpected considering the film’s goals and ambitions.
The Next Generation sank The Texas Chainsaw Massacre’s reputation, and yet none of the entries that have followed, despite their box office success, have featured particularly compelling takes. What’s so exciting about Barker helming the next entry is that he’s a filmmaker who has an infinitely defined point of view that’s present in all his work. He has the same anarchic and disruptive sensibility as The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Next Generation, and his version of this story could touch on similarly self-aware, deconstructive material that still manages to be genuinely frightening. If nothing else, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Next Generation – one of the most underrated horror films to come out of the ‘90s – deserves reclamation for hitting even harder three decades later.
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