[Editorial] Growing Up Ghouls: The Saw and My Family

Being a mom and a horror fan has never been an easy feat. When Kenz and Molly were born, I attempted to hide as much of this part of my life as I possibly could. But as I soon learned, compartmentalizing life is difficult, and, like a new pack of Oreos, hiding anything from your kids is nearly impossible. As a podcaster and writer, I spend a lot of my free time discussing, watching, and living in the world of horror films and culture. Inevitably, my girls became interested in this part of my life and wanted to be a part of it too. And thus started their journey: growing up ghouls. 

It all started with a horror con appearance I made for my podcast. Thanks to scheduling conflicts they were my “plus 1’s” and were thrown headfirst into the world of horror. I remember my heart stopping when Molly, only five at the time, ran ahead of me towards a candy booth and bumped head on into Art the Clown. I immediately envisioned the therapy bills and my awkward explanations to a family counselor about why my daughter was now intensively afraid of clowns, candy, and leaving the house. 

However, something completely unexpected happened: she loved him (this could be because the incredibly talented cosplayer @josh.does.cosplay is great at what he does and would soon become a dear friend). They played with his horn and even posed for a picture together. And for anyone curious, rest assured they will not be watching Terrifier any time soon. 

Later, my girls sat starry-eyed, feet not reaching the ground in their front row folding chairs and watched as I hosted a panel on Terrifier with the cast and crew. To this day, they talk about how nice and funny the clown guy is. And for the record, David Howard Thornton is indeed a treasure. That same weekend they watched Monster Squad on the big screen, played duck duck goose with Miguel Nunez (Return of the Living Dead, Friday the 13th Part V), who is also a delight of a human being, and even tried their hand at cosplay makeup. 

They were hooked.

And, as these things tend to go, they grew up quickly with little to no major discernible damage from mom’s side hustle. In fact, they grew to love horror movies, and as they matured, their insights, commentaries, and reviews began to delight and inspire me. And as any good horror fan knows, to really love the genre, you have to go to the roots. 

With that said, me, an aging Gen X-er prone to yelling at the clouds and blinded by my 80’s nostalgia and Molly and Kenz, wisely fierce by design, super woke, tween & teen Gen Z-ers, will tackle the films that define the genre. Will they stand the test of time and generational dissonance? 

The gory and overly sexual will be set aside (I’m still their mother, after all,) as we travel through the canon of classic horror and get as close as I ever can to experiencing these films for the first time all over again.

And so, we begin our journey with Tobe Hooper’s 1974 classic, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Thanks to pop culture’s fascination with Leatherface, both girls were more than familiar with the franchise. In fact, Molly even went through a phase where she slept with a stuffed baby Leatherface. Hey, I said no major discernible damage. So, this film was one they were anxious to check off the list. 

The first question out of their mouths was, “Why does this film look real?” I’m sure I lost them 15 seconds into my explanation of film and film print versus digital media. According to them, any film shot before 2005 looks “creepy and old.” Man, are they going to be in for a surprise when we get to Nosferatu. 

Character wise, the film was underwhelming for them. I had to chuckle when they immediately noted that Franklin is a terrible nuisance as both a travel companion and brother. They thought it was especially cringey to include a differently abled character in a wheelchair, and give him an insufferable personality. He’s miserable and unable to fend for himself in any way which feels especially cruel. While I’ve never cared much for the character, I am proud that we live in a world where modern viewers demand more of their marginalized voices. I also countered with the point that most of the able-bodied minor characters in the van are pretty insufferable, too. 

Plenty of other scenes made me realize that they are way smarter than I ever was as a young teen. They scoffed at the notion that anyone could be reckless enough to pick up a hitchhiker, and wondered why they wouldn't just buy the picture to prevent upsetting a clearly mentally unstable person. They laughed at me when I described a childhood- and maybe some adulthood- fear of chainsaws thanks to this film. They rolled their eyes at what they thought were flat characters. It was only after I explained that this film started a lot of these tropes that they eventually acknowledged that they wouldn’t have the harbingers, the creepy townsfolk, and the quippy sidekicks of today’s slashers without TCM.

At this point, I was starting to worry. Then, luckily, Leatherface made his debut, and with this iconic scene their plucky nonchalance started to wane. With the quick view of our villain and the loud clunk of a hammer hitting a head, the room went quiet, and soon the woots of respect were flowing. Eyes went wide when Pam was placed on a meat hook, and suddenly there was a palpable tension in the room. The deserved respect for this film was starting to bleed.

The dinner scene also struck all the right chords. 

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Both girls quickly noted the tension, horror, and brutality of these moments. Kenz even noticed and applauded the choice to focus on Sally’s eyes at length during the scene, while Molly was particularly struck by Grandpa’s epic patriarchy.  Both admitted that the scene was super uncomfortable. I was happy to see that it still completely holds up.

With the dinner scene also came what was my favorite discussion of the night. When Leatherface first appeared on screen in lipstick, blush, and what was presumably a female victim’s face, my oldest, Mackenzie, who identifies as a member of the LGBTQIA+ community, was immediately interested. 

She asked if Leatherface was a cross-dresser. I quipped that at the very least he was clearly questioning, which she glazed over as she noted that the family did not seem to mind this choice, even if they were verbally and physically abusive towards him. She found their tolerance somewhat endearingly out of character for whatever stereotypes might be afforded to extremist Southern values of a cannibalistic clan of psycho murderers. 

When I asked her if it was a problem that the potentially LGBTQIA+ character was a homicidal, skin wearing serial killer, she was confused by my question. Why would it be, she wondered? The hetero-normative men in the family were just as bad, and clearly Leatherface is a victim of their abuse and being forced into a lot of his aggressions. Clearly I have got a lot to learn about her world views. 

The last big issue that came up was with Sally Hardesty herself. Entire academic books have been written around the idea that Sally is the quintessential OG of final girls. But to two young ladies raised on a steady diet of post-Scream, modern final people who boast braun, sharp tongues, and even sharper weapons, Sally was underwhelming. In fact, they challenged her place in the Final Girl Hall of Fame, asking if running away and screaming alone warranted a final girl crown. In my indignation to this, I challenged them to a quick run for their lives in a wooded area to see how they would fare. Luckily no one took me up on this because both of them can outrun me any day. 

They were also not very happy to note that, technically speaking, Sally was saved by a man, which lost her serious points as a final girl in their eyes. They were at least willing to acknowledge the historical relevance of Sally’s character, but might have mumbled something about getting her ass kicked by today’s final girls.

They claimed the film did not scare them at all, yet I still found myself having to promise them that Texas was nothing like the film depicted and that we were not planning any family trips to the south-west countryside anytime soon. Perhaps they were more unsettled than they let on. It was unanimously agreed upon that The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is indeed a classic horror film that will remain a staple in the genre, particularly for Leatherface and as well as its contribution to the slasher sub-genre. 

And so, as Leatherface swung his saw into the rising red sun and Sally shriek-giggled her way to safety, our journey to ‘70s Texas ended. While my girls remind me more of Muppets Statler and Waldorf than Siskel and Ebert, we decided to borrow the rating system made famous by the latter. Kenz and Molly officially give this film 2 Gen Z thumbs up. 

And when they asked if Sally was in other movies, I refused to talk about it and assured them life was better without the answer to that question. After all, what’s a parent’s job if not shielding their children from disappointments whenever possible? 

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