The Remastered Massacre: Should Horror Films be Digitally Restored?

In 1973, with a little budget and large ambition, film student Tobe Hooper headed to the Texan outback in the middle of July with an amateur film crew and unknown cast to shoot a little horror film. Through several production issues, Hooper shot vociferously, and everyone endured the harsh conditions of sweltering heat, long hours and unwashed costumes. Thirty two days later, shooting had finally completed and Hooper spent over a year working on the final cut. Several months were then spent hunting for a suitable distributor until 1974, when The Texas Chainsaw Massacre hit cinema screens nationwide. 

Following a group of friends who fall victim to a family of grave-robbing cannibals, Hooper's film capitalises on the tales of Ed Gein and presents us with a disturbingly dysfunctional family including none other, than the infamous Leatherface. This, combined with the use of sound and clever cinematography, provided audiences with a surreal nightmare - a terrifying cinematic experience like no other. Upon its initial release, theatres received numerous complaints and the film was notoriously banned in several countries. Despite the notable lack of blood and gore, comments such as "This is about the sickest carnival of slaughter ever seen..." are representative of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre's initial reception. But of course, people love to be scared witless and it is no surprise that, with the added notoriety, the film's eventual domestic gross was over $30 million. 

Over the years, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre has not only acquired a strong cult status, but has also been added to the Museum of Modern Art, become the eighth highest-grossing horror franchise of all time and named by Sight & Sound as one of the most important movies ever made. It has an undeniable reputation of being one of the best horror films in cinema history and has originated several horror motifs that we are all familiar with today, namely the improper use of DIY tools. It has also provided us with one of the horror greats - Leatherface - who stands proudly alongside the likes of Freddy, Jason and Michael. 

As a "timeless milestone of terror whose sheer raw power remains undiminished to this day", The Texas Chainsaw Massacre's high standing and cultural impact has spanned over decades. It continues to do so as this year marks the film's fortieth anniversary and to celebrate, MPI and Dark Sky Films have released a remastered version of the original, which was unveiled at the SXSW Film Festival in Austin, Texas just yesterday. 

Terms such as 'remastered' or 'restored' are thrown about with great abandon these days, so what do they actually mean? As I understand it - although please feel free to correct me - remastering a film can simply mean creating a new digital master copy from an existing source, typically enhancing the quality in the process, by re-framing and improving the sound. Restoration on the other hand, is a labour of love and involves repairing physical problems with the original film, often digitally. Whether it is one or the other, here are the essential facts you need to know about The Texas Chainsaw Massacre's resurface;

• The whole process has been overseen by Todd Wieneke of Dark Sky Films and took place at NOLO Digital Film in Chicago
• An ARRISCAN Film Scanner was used
• The film has received a brand new 4K transfer, which is roughly four times the original resolution
• Using the original 16mm/AB rolls, all 120, 960 original frames were scanned
• Over the course of five months and 40 hour work weeks, each frame was corrected, the colour and sound was enhanced and flaws such as scratches, film stains, chemical stains, dirt and torn perforations were eradicated

It was a hefty task for the NOLO institute, a painstaking process that engineer Boris Seagraves recalls; 

"There were hundreds, if not thousands, of instances where you’d find a splice mark cooked into the middle of a frame. Some frames would have close to two hundred dirt events on them. We also spent a lot of time stabilizing the image. When doing a digital scan of a conformed 16mm print with a splice at every cut, it can be tough to achieve the high standards we all aspire to in the era of digital cinema. What might have passed as acceptable in the 70′s looks jarring now. So we worked hard to smooth out the tremors that almost inevitably occur when scanning this type of film element. There were tears in the film that we had to digitally rebuild from adjacent frames. There were tens of thousands of things we were dealing with...This film probably needed the most restoration of any project we've done".

Whether remastered or restored, the above proves that The Texas Chainsaw Massacre has been given a little bit of a face lift. I can't help but feel however, that the debate here is not surrounding the correct technical term for the process, but whether in fact the process is necessary at all. Using Hooper's classic as an example, perhaps we should question whether horror films need to be digitally restored? Admittedly, recent restorations of other classics such as Jaws or Phantom of the Paradise (discussed in a previous article) have been a sure-fire hit and look bloody magnificent, but what about the grimier, grizzly frights from the 1970s? Shouldn't they stay that way? 

First, let’s establish a little context. Throughout the 1960s and 1970s, America was a place of severe social, cultural and political unrest. Unemployment was rife, there were massive fuel shortages, race riots, Watergate and the assassination of figures such as Martin Luther King, Jr. and President John F. Kennedy. The Vietnam War took centre stage, leading to mass trauma, Napalm attacks and events such as the Kent State shootings in which government troops fired on American students who were protesting against the war. Every day, America was faced with death, depression, and the startling realisation that perhaps, they weren't the good guys after all. 

During this time, young filmmakers were eager to depict their thoughts, feelings and experiences of living in such a nation, let down by the perils of flailing humanity. After the success of Psycho, the horror film had already moved firmly away from its supernatural scares and placed the threat within the family. However, Wes Craven was arguably the first young, American director to truly exhibit such angst and disdain toward the human condition, with the controversial The Last House on the Left. Directly influenced by Vietnam footage, Craven created a film that possessed overt brutality and sadism, intrical to its socio-cultural context. Two years later, and Hooper's Texas Chainsaw Massacre generated a similar sort of message, influenced by the tales of Ed Gein and the current American condition - that we are all capable of masochism, sadism and unsavoury things. 

So what's this all got to do with digital restoration I hear you ask? Well, taking budgetary restraints and technological capabilities as a given, the aesthetics of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre also possess a deep, metaphysical significance. Each frame exhibits a dirty, grainy, scuzzy quality that is undeniably connected to the film, and nations, tone of unrelenting nihilism. Every grain and any scratch, perforation or stain inadvertently adds to other aesthetic choices, such as the use of low lighting and erratic editing, or Daniel Pearl's claustrophobic framing of the Texan landscape. To put it simply, these imperfections add to the essence of the film, an essence that may well in-part be lost, if replaced with a clean and pristine sheen. 

Of course, there is every chance that this remaster or restoration of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre could be brilliant. A little biased, perhaps, but Wieneke explains; "I've seen the film literally frame-by-frame and I’m still hearing and seeing things I never noticed before…it just adds a whole different level.” Similarly, NOLO Colourist Michael Matusek adds, “This 4K scan delivers such an intense reality that it feels like you’re really seeing through the film to the actual world behind it". Indeed as they exclaim, it is a possibility that this new version may open our eyes to a whole new level of appreciation for the film. It may fall in line with other, recent restorations in looking better than ever expected. Hooper, the man himself, also seems on-board and impressed with this recent technological feat; 

"I haven’t seen The Texas Chainsaw Massacre on the big screen for many, many years. This 40th anniversary restoration is absolutely the best the film has ever looked. The colour and clarity is spectacular, displaying visual details in the film that were never before perceptible. The newly remastered 7.1 soundtrack breathes new life and energy into the film. I am very much looking forward to audiences experiencing this film as they never have before".

And there's the kicker, the main argument in favour for any restoration of any horror film - the chance to see it on a big screen. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre fans have been promised a limited, cinematic release of this recent restoration in the summer months (an official date is not yet confirmed) and that is something to celebrate. Yes, an essence of the film may be lost when replaced with certain cleanliness, but to have Leatherface come at you with his chainsaw, or to hear the infamous slam of that metallic door echo throughout the auditorium, is an opportunity that any horror fan would happily endure, I'm sure. 

What are your thoughts on the digital restoration debate? Do you think The Texas Chainsaw Massacre should have been left alone? Or are you looking forward to seeing a clean-cut version? Post a comment! 

'Dream it never ends...': A Celebration of Brian De Palma's Phantom of the Paradise

Last month, Arrow Films were kind (and smart) enough to re-release Brian De Palma's Phantom of the Paradise (1974) on Blu-ray. Upon the film's initial release in cinemas, it did not receive a positive reception. Apart from a bizarre case of international success in Winnipeg, the film was met with empty seats, given untimely runs in theatres and universally panned by critics. Yet over time, this horror phantasy has become, and continues to be, a cult phenomenon. Its latest revival, which also boasts an all-new 72 minute interview with Paul Williams, is further proof of the film's unrelenting fandom - and a dream it never ends... So what is it about this rock n' roll musical that is so lovable and enjoyable? Read on, as Wise Words... will now explore and celebrate one of De Palma's finest.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the tale, Phantom of the Paradise follows Winslow Leach (William Finley) - a music composer/singer who falls fowl to the perils of love, musical integrity and a soul-destroying record contract with selfish and sadistic record producer, Swan (Paul Williams). It begins with Leach performing his version of Faust for Swan, who quickly becomes interested in using it for the opening of his new rock theatre, The Paradise. However, Swan is only interested in the music and wants nothing to do with the ostricised artist. Leach makes several attempts to convince Swan otherwise by breaking into his mansion, where he also meets love-interest Phoenix. However, persuasion avails and Leach is eventually beaten up, framed for drug dealing and sent to prison for life.

Prison doesn't work out too well for our unfortunate protagonist. Not only are his teeth removed for experimental purposes and replaced with metal dentures, but whilst on duty one day, he overhears his version of Faust on the radio, performed by Swan's most popular band, The Juicy Fruits. Outrage ensues and Leach manages to escape the prison, heading straight for Swan's offices. Whilst there, and one or two fisticuffs with the guards later, a freak accident occurs - Leach's face is caught in the record press, drastically disfiguring him and destroying his vocal chords. Full of anger and despair, he takes it upon himself to don a cape and mask and consequently haunt The Paradise as The Phantom.

After attempting to murder The Juicy Fruits, The Phantom comes face to face with Swan, who exploitatively provides him with a nice new voice box and the opportunity to have his music produced properly. Both parties come to an agreement and a blood-signed contract is arranged. However Swan has other plans and hires glam-rocker Beef to perform all songs, contrary to Leach's wishes for Phoenix to take the helm - "My music is for Phoenix. Only she can sing it. Anyone else who tries, dies". Due to an unfortunate accident with a piece of stage lighting, Beef is removed from the equation and Phoenix finally takes centre stage. However unrequited love and the temptation of fame lead to even greater, fatal consequences and a performance crescendo like no other.

Does some of this sound familiar? Well of course, combining a musical with horror and comedy, Phantom of the Paradise is an evident twist on the classic tales of The Phantom of the Opera, Faust and The Picture of Dorian Gray. However, whilst holding extensive similarities to such well-known stories, there is a marked difference in the films aesthetics, resultant from its production within the New Hollywood era.

In the United States of America, 1974 was a time of genre revisionism. Countercultural uprisings in the face of delapidating American ideals marked a dawn of new possibilities - from societal policies to the visual arts. During this time, filmmakers were emerging from college, fresh-faced and internationally educated with bold and bright ideas. These film school graduates (including the likes of Martin Scorsese, Robert Altman, George Lucas and De Palma himself) took over Hollywood with a new, far more personal and ambitious vision - a new perspective on previously established genres and concepts. According to Norman Denzin, ‘any nostalgia for the past lead to its re-enactment or effacement in contemporary culture’, and indeed, as Robert B Ray explored in his book A Certain Tendency of the Hollywood Cinema, 1930 – 1980, films between 1966 and 1980 became ‘overt parodies, “corrected” genre pictures or exaggerated camp versions of Hollywood traditional mythology’. Phantom of the Paradise is no different and it is for this reason that we can celebrate the film - as De Palma's postmodern, parodistic take on a classic Hollywood formula wears a mask of distinct aestheticism.

Postmodernism, that is understood as a loose reference to a body of understandings, is often, but not always, cinematically portrayed through the notion of 'camp'. Often misunderstood in terms of film, camp can generally be described as a certain mode of aestheticism, a way of seeing the world as an aesthetic phenomenon. Susan Sontag explains, 'camp is a vision of the world in terms of its style - but a particular kind of style. It is the love of the exaggerated'. So, how does this come across in Phantom of the Paradise?

Lets begin with the films lighting and set design, wonderfully achieved through the work of Jack Fisk. The colour schemes that outline many sequences cleverly emphasise harsh lighting and a certain brightness against dark and at times, overbearing shadows, arguably resembling the unethical morality underlying a beaming, gluttonous exterior. Similarly, the entrapment and claustrophobic workings of Swan's recording studio are nuanced by the expanses and angular spaces of The Paradise, mirroring Leach's struggle against the tyrannical music industry and a blood-bound contract. Over-powering, angular and voyeuristic - all in all, the surroundings are incredibly expressive, as is the editing that frames it.

Editor Paul Hirsch manages to convey a similar sense of contrast. He knows when to hold back, for instance leaving the camera to slowly glide around Leach as he performs his version of Faust, foregrounding the music in a moment of pure escapism. Yet, he diverts into erratic, fast-paced cuts once Leach descends into mental and physical turmoil. This, in addition to the infamous split-screen technique, exemplifies the bold and exaggerated formatting techniques filmmakers began to use in the New Hollywood era. Even to this day however, the techniques remains just as effective. 

Expression and exaggeration is equally conveyed in Rosanna Norton's costume design. On the one hand we have Beef, whose attire signifies blatant excess through the use of make-up, glitter and skin-tight clothing, embodying a glam rock aesthetic. On the other we have Leach, whose transgression is externally portrayed, from the bland, beige and pastel colours of well-worn cardigans to the phallic eccentricities of black leather and a large, metallic helmet.

Of course, costume can only work to a certain extent and are ultimately reliant on the actors and actresses that wear them - their performances are just as central in forming this camp and exaggerated piece of filmmaking. The Juicy Fruits perfectly parody that 'beach-boys' persona and Paul Williams is deliciously devilish in executing a blackly comic and cool persona. Gerrit Graham wonderfully personifies the notion of camp in his role as Beef, pouting his lips, strutting around on stage and exuding excessive bravado, whilst simultaneously dealing with drug-fuelled paranoia. It is an absolute joy to behold on screen, allowing us to relish in his loud and proud performativity. Not to mention, he makes a fantastic victim in the infamous shower scene, in which Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho is directly referenced, then parodied through the unconventional use of a toilet plunger...

But of course, the main performance that outshines all others, is from the late, great William Finley as Winslow Leach. A man who is un-failingly compelling in his portrayal of both a tortured artist, full of naivety and vulnerability, in addition to the wounded and vengeful Phantom, whose expressive and exaggerated movements are not only fantastic, but cleverly influenced from the German Expressionist movement. His execution of dialogue, presence throughout each scene and tortured transformation arguably make it the most stand-out element of the film.

If all of the above wasn't enough, the film is intrinsically bound by a Paul Williams soundtrack. Combining melody, glam rock and 60s pop, the music simultaneously elicits humour and pathos to match the unfolding events on screen. Words can only do it so much justice, so listen and enjoy the entirety of the soundtrack below...




Overall, whilst the Phantom of the Paradise is by no means an original tale, its production during the New Hollywood era provides it with an aesthetic to be celebrated. That's not to say the plot is not enjoyable, as in its postmodern context, pastiche is generated through filmic references to rekindle a sense of comfort and nostalgia. However, to the tune of clever, innovative music we can witness and celebrate a surface of camp aestheticism, an emphasis on form and performativity that as a result, provides us pundits with one of the best horror phantasies to have ever graced our screens. Its recent resurgence is a wonderful opportunity for us to once again marvel and celebrate it, for Swan was right, we have really been entertained and we never want the show to end... 
Phantom of the Paradise is available to purchase from Arrow Films here.