The backwoods family of homicidal, grave-robbing cannibals that form the exhumed backbone of Tobe Hooper’s 1974 horror watershed “The Texas Chain Saw Massacre” are portrayed as equal parts bughouse-crazy bloodthirsty rednecks and hard-up blue collar strivers abandoned by the American dream – a little Thomas Harris, a little John Steinbeck. For as much as they killed, skinned and ate, they laughed, loved and cried. Perhaps, then, in this time of economic struggle, there are lessons to be learned from this determined American family and the values that they went to grisly, horrific lengths to preserve.

Waste Not, Want Not

For as many times as school teachers and morbidly obese plate lickers have blustered on about the Native Americans utilizing every part of the buffalos they killed, all but the contemptible found object artists among us continue to discard food packaging, old clothing and human remains. “The Texas Chain Saw Massacre” paints a picture of a world where resources wasted equal a bone futon unconstructed or a skin lampshade unmade. There’s a beautiful simplicity in eating hamburger off of the cow’s hide and then defecating into its skull.

The Disabled Are People

While Sally’s wheelchair-bound brother Martin is subjected to the barbs and disrespect of his sister’s wake-and-bake buddies, he meets nothing but acceptance from Leatherface, who knows that the disabled deserve to be treated just like anyone else. Rather than letting prejudice guide his hand to slaughter Martin extra slow (out of hatred), or extra gently (out of pity), he simply lays into him with the chainsaw, quick and respectful, its blades buzzing out in steely, flesh-rending clarity, “I have a dream…”

Embrace Family Dinners

It’s an all too familiar picture: the parents eat drive-through chicken whatevers on their respective commutes home while the kids snarf down Pop Tarts between Idol votes and “Send to All” sexts. Meanwhile, somewhere in Texas, an aging patriarch sits at the head of a table, listening as his son talks human barbecue and his grandkids laugh and squabble over headcheese and murder. “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre”’s infamous dinner scene is clear in its message: without a nightly, communal supper, a family’s close-knit relationship, along with its finely honed cooperative system of murder, dismemberment and consumption, will crumble like so many stale Pop Tarts. Also, etiquette dictates that the giant skull hammer be placed to the right of the plate.

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