Chain Reactions: The Impact of a Horror Masterpiece Cinemax

Directed by Alexandre O. Philippe

Chain Reactions is an incredibly intellectualized love letter to one of the most horrific films ever put to celluloid. Unlike the varied nature of many Alexandre O. Philippe films – with the exception of William Friedkin’s Leap of Faith on The Exorcist – the film is a simple, linear affair.

Many have spoken out and re-spoken about the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. It’s a film whose genius spawned eight sequels (…depending who’s counting) and a million equally remarkable imitators. Some like the film, including Patrick Taggart of the Austin American-Statesman who hailed it as the most important horror film since George A. Romero’s Night of the Living Dead (1968). Some, like Linda Gross of the Los Angeles Times, called it “despicable” and described the Tobe Hooper story as a “plastic script.”

As horror fans, we all know the truth about the Texas Chainsaw Massacre and the legion of critics who have changed their tune in the decades since. Whatever your initial thoughts following your first viewing, this is an undeniable film and singular in nature. There was no “before” the Texas Chainsaw Massacre: just a pile of blood-soaked guts and intestines that were left in its wake. Many have tried to imitate him, but very few (read VERY FEW) have come close to his singular greatness.

That said, Alexandre O. Philippe’s film, Chain Reactions, is not editorialist. This is not about looking at both sides of the coin. It’s not about finding hidden meaning in Leatherface’s wardrobe selections. Quite the contrary. Chain Reactions is a profound and everlasting exposition of why the film sparked such a wild cultural explosion and why the film’s impacts continue over two centuries.

Alexandre O. Philippe carefully selects five people to share individual details of their love for the film: comedian Patton Oswalt, director Takashi Miike, film critic Alexandra Heller-Nicholas, writer Stephen King, and director Karyn Kusama.

Although everyone has very different takes on the film, the two most interesting and synonymous are the bookends of comedian Patton Oswalt and director Karyn Kusama. By emphasizing the eternal concept of the monster as the “other,” Oswalt and Kusama have the most poignant perspectives on the film.

Amid a compelling comparison and contrast with Nosferatu, Oswalt offers three fascinating ideas about what really makes the film tick. The connective tissue offered by the sun is above all. From the opening scene with the strange screams associated with the off-putting solar flares on the face of the sun, to the very end of the film where Leatherface appears to be trying to kill the sun with his chainsaw, it is the sun that makes the film vibrate.

Oswalt posits that the sun is the element that is slowly driving everyone crazy. Her radiant presence is unstoppable, infuriating, and she has managed to find her way into the flabby minds of the entire family.

While many, including Tobe Hooper and writer/producer Kim Henkel, have openly discussed the film’s insanity as the perfect metaphor for the slow, madness of the Vietnam War and the wasteful, failed policies of the Nixon era, none of those interviewed in Chain Reactions address this all-too-obvious point.

Instead, Oswalt speaks of the different, but still adroit, allegory of the final pitches of westward expansion. The failure of capitalism, lack of resources, and scarred landscapes combine to stifle Manifest Destiny and the American Dream. Whether it’s the drunkard in the cemetery or the intruder washing car windows at the gas station, all of these characters reflect the unfortunate nature of the attempt to reduce the West to the ground.

Should you watch Chain Reactions?

Regardless of your view on this film, or whether you were one of the few who was able to survive Leatherface’s kidnapping of Pam in the hallway, this is a film that makes you watch it and watch it closely. Like the worst documentary you’ve ever seen, Texas Chainsaw shows you depravity that’s almost impossible to escape, and it’s done in a way that’s beyond any editorial control.

Without commentary, the audience is invited to chew on the horror and figure out how to process it for themselves. There is no narration, except for the short clip at the beginning of the film. There are no annoying exposition dumps. There are no clunky character stories. Texas Chainsaw just wants you to watch it.

Once again, Alexandre O. Philippe has created a fascinating look at one of the most enduring films ever made. Like the gripping nature of all his films, Chain Reactions could have easily been three or four hours long and I wouldn’t have batted an eye. When a documentary leaves you insatiably wanting to know more, you know it’s going to stay with you for many moons.

Chain Reactions is probably rated R and available in theaters and streaming services everywhere.