There are horror sequels, and then there are horror sequels that feel like somebody ran a chainsaw through the script, sewed it back together with dental floss, and declared it art. Leatherface: Texas Chainsaw Massacre III proudly falls into the latter category—a film so confused, so bland, and so aggressively pointless it makes The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2look like Citizen Kane. And that’s saying something, because Part 2 was already about Dennis Hopper wielding two chainsaws like a cowboy on meth.
But let’s talk about Part III. Or as I like to call it: The Texas Chainsaw Shrug.
The Plot (Or Whatever That Was)
The movie opens strong enough: Leatherface chasing a woman through the woods, murdering her, and using her face as a new mask. Classic Leatherface—when you’ve got a shtick, you stick with it. But from there the film turns into what feels like a road-trip comedy gone horribly wrong. Michelle and Ryan, a couple who seem like they were plucked from a JCPenney catalog, wander into Texas, because apparently nobody has read the travel advisories warning against it.
They stop at the Last Chance Gas Station—a place so suspicious that even Scooby-Doo would refuse to get out of the van. There they meet Alfredo (Tom Everett, who seems like he’s method acting as “disgusting uncle who ruins Thanksgiving”) and Tex, played by none other than Viggo Mortensen. Yes, Aragorn himself, before he decided to wield a sword in Middle-earth instead of a chainsaw in Texas. It’s a career move I fully endorse.
Things go downhill fast: Leatherface shows up, Ryan gets bear-trapped, Michelle spends the rest of the movie screaming, and Ken Foree (as Benny) shows up to inject some badly needed testosterone into the proceedings. By the time we get to the dinner scene, it’s just a low-budget reenactment of the original’s greatest hits—minus the atmosphere, terror, or, you know, entertainment.
Leatherface: Diet Edition
Let’s talk about Leatherface. This is a guy who should be terrifying—a 300-pound, chainsaw-wielding cannibal with a hobby in taxidermy and a family that makes the Manson clan look like the Brady Bunch. And yet, in Part III, Leatherface feels like he’s been neutered.
He gets a shiny new chainsaw with “The Saw Is Family” engraved on it, which is supposed to be menacing but plays more like a Hallmark Christmas ornament for serial killers. He spends most of the runtime lumbering after Michelle like Frankenstein on a treadmill and never manages to recapture the primal terror of Gunnar Hansen’s original performance. R.A. Mihailoff tries his best, but it’s like watching a mall Santa audition for WWE Raw.
Viggo Mortensen: The Only Spark
The one semi-bright spot in this mess is Viggo Mortensen as Tex Sawyer. Viggo treats this movie the way you treat a fast-food job in high school—you show up, smile, and do just enough to avoid being fired. He’s charming, sadistic, and almost makes you wish the whole movie was just about him and his cowboy-psycho shtick. Unfortunately, the script gives him about as much depth as a kiddie pool, and he ends up as yet another casualty of “let’s kill time until Leatherface revs his saw again.”
The Family That Eats Together…
Oh, the Sawyer clan. Once upon a time, they were the most disturbing family in horror cinema—an unholy blend of grotesque humor, Southern Gothic decay, and screaming that never seemed to stop. By Part III, they’ve been reduced to a half-baked sitcom.
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Alfredo is the sleazy comic relief nobody asked for.
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Tinker has a hook for a hand and a chainsaw fetish, which sounds cooler than it actually is.
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Mama Anne exists only to get shot in the face.
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And let’s not forget the Little Girl, because what every horror franchise needs is a creepy child who stabs people like she’s auditioning for Toddlers & Tiaras: Cannibal Edition.
The dynamic is less “terrifying murder cult” and more “weird neighbors you pray don’t show up at the block party.”
The Gore That Wasn’t
Here’s the kicker: this movie was originally slapped with an X rating for violence, which makes it sound like the goriest, nastiest entry in the series. Except it’s not. New Line hacked the movie to pieces to avoid an NC-17, and the result is about as bloody as a paper cut. You see Leatherface rev his chainsaw, you hear a scream, and then… cutaway. Rinse, repeat.
It’s like ordering a steak rare and getting served a vegan salad. Sure, it’s technically food, but it’s not what you signed up for. The uncut version restores some of the gore, but even then, it’s nothing special. If you’re going to watch Leatherface, you want arterial spray, not off-screen whimpering.
Ken Foree Deserved Better
Ken Foree—bless him—plays Benny, a survivalist who somehow ends up in the middle of all this nonsense. He’s the only character who doesn’t feel like cardboard, and he even gets to unload a machine gun into the Sawyer house like he’s auditioning for Rambo IV: Chainsaw Boogaloo.
And then the movie goes and ruins it. Depending on which cut you watch, Benny either dies pathetically at the hands of Leatherface or magically survives to give Michelle a lift. Both options suck. Either you waste the best character in the film, or you undercut the only scene with emotional weight. Pick your poison, Jeff Burr.
Atmosphere: None Detected
The original Texas Chainsaw Massacre was sweaty, suffocating, and dirty. You could practically smell the rot coming off the screen. Part III, on the other hand, looks like it was filmed on a backlot with fog machines rented from a high school theater department. There’s no tension, no grit, and certainly no horror. Just a bunch of people running through the woods at night while Leatherface lumbers after them like he’s late for a dentist appointment.
The Ending: A Chainsaw to the Face
By the time Michelle and Benny are driving off into the sunrise, you’re left wondering what the hell you just watched. Leatherface is still alive, Alfredo is dead (thank God), and the audience is the real victim. The credits roll, and you’re left staring into the void, contemplating all the better uses of 85 minutes—like alphabetizing your spice rack or drinking bleach.
Final Verdict
Leatherface: Texas Chainsaw Massacre III is the cinematic equivalent of a broken lawnmower: loud, useless, and guaranteed to make you question your life choices. It tries to recapture the magic of the original while ignoring everything that made it terrifying. What we’re left with is a neutered Leatherface, a half-baked family, and a movie that feels like it was edited with a chainsaw instead of scissors.
If “The Saw Is Family,” then this is the black sheep nobody talks about at reunions.
