TOBE HOOPER

Texas danger…

CHILD OF CINEMA

Film was in Tobe Hooper’s (19432017) blood. Born in Austin, Texas, to hotel managers who owned a cinema, his childhood memories were dominated by movies. Later, he became assistant director of the film programme at his alma mater, the University of Texas. If trippy-hippie debut feature Eggshells (1969) showcased a radical filmmaking voice – witty, experimental, intricate – folk doc The Song Is Love (1971) emphasised Hooper’s counter-cultural interests.

DON’T MESS WITH TEXAS

Hooper soon left the summer of love behind. Drawing on Ed Gein, Night Of The Living Dead and, Hooper joked, his own violent urges in a department store, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974) emerged as a DIY Southern-horror of raw wit and sophistication – the sound mix, production design and pacing excel. From Marilyn Burns’ final girl to its immersive dread and indie spirit, Chain Saw’s influence far outstripped its budget.

MAINSTREAM MENACE

Between their frenzied sound mixes, fascination with American freakishness, gonzo spirit and expressive production design, Eaten Alive (1976) and carnivalesque slasher The Funhouse (1981) upheld Hooper’s disruptive sensibilities. But Stephen King adap Salem’s Lot (1979) was a crossover TV talking point, infused with classic horror know-how and a classy James Mason turn. Poltergeist (1982), meanwhile, saw traces of Hooper-esque mayhem surviving producer Steven Spielberg’s control.

CANNON BLASTS

His sensibilities too lurid for Hollywood, Hooper turned to Cannon Films for work. Selfstyled “70mm Hammer film” Lifeforce (1985) mixed subversive genre smarts with silliness, Invaders From Mars (1986) decent creature designs with a knowing playfulness. Hooper sustained a similarly satirical spirit for The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 (1986), a fever-pitch sequel featuring a titanic confrontation: Leatherface vs an off-his-nut Dennis Hopper.

HORROR LIFER

Even in his lean years, Hooper summoned occasional jolts of torrid verve. Possessedlaundry-press shocker The Mangler (1995) revels in the ridiculous, its gore spiced with supernatural elements, while Toolbox Murders (2004) proved slyly allusive. Amid late-career struggles, TV gigs and a disappointing swansong (Djinn, 2013), Chain Saw’s impact remained unassailable. “I wanted to be outrageous,” Hooper said, “and break the rules.” Job done.