This sick little number has all the poise and artistic elegance of a porno flick, but some truly shocking and memorable sequences and the haunting image that ends this film leave the viewer feeling genuinely disturbed and unnerved, making The Toolbox Murders a movie that ultimately presents its uncompromising vision adeptly.
The film is flawed on many fronts, and at times tedious, so this certainly isn't a candidate for the "classic" category. The titular killings all take place within the first half-hour, and after that the pace slows to a crawling bore that The Toolbox Murders almost doesn't recover from.
Far too much time is spent on an ultimately pointless police investigation subplot, which does nothing to augment the horror of the admittedly ghastly crimes. Only those familiar with the Hershell Gordon Lewis cult classic Blood Feast will recall ever seeing police officers as inept and clueless as the ones tracking the madman here, who aren't shy about letting potential witnesses walk all over their crime scene, and insist on questioning them while they stand over the brutally maimed corpses of the victims. When the main detective treats one of the film's attempted heroes like a jackass for suggesting that the fact there isn't any forced entry into the murder sites could suggest that the victims knew their killer, we quickly suspect that this is one case that won't be solved by tireless police work.
The film resolves its whodunnit two-thirds into the running time, so any suspense in this caper is dissipated far too early. While there is a meager attempt at a twist afterwards, only the well-crafted denouement saves the movie from falling flat at the finish. I'm fairly certain that the film's "based on true events" allegation is a bogus ploy, but the where-are-they-now update at the end is a nifty way to conclude the tale, especially since it runs with the film's eerie final image in the background.
The centerpiece of the film is of course the toolbox murders themselves, which are indeed gruesome and gory bits of mayhem. The splatter on display here is unflinching and definitely graphic enough to appease gore-hounds, but the film spends itself too quickly, packing in all of the killings into such a rapid succession that they blur together a bit and desensitize the viewer to the point that the bloodshed ceases being shocking. Had the film-makers drawn the mystery of the murders out more, and spaced them out throughout the film, these scenes could have had much more impact, and when we finally learn the diabolical motives of the killer, the killings themselves become essentially pointless. Although, it should be pointed out that the madman's (madmens'?) true intentions are suitably creepy and horrifying even without the killing spree that precedes them.
Some of the film's successes are happy accidents, such as the drab colors and unattractive surroundings the events occur in. Of course, this is more a reflection of the interior decorating trends of the late '70s than a conscious effort by the film-makers to set these ugly deeds in ugly places, but the tone of the film is certainly enhanced by the bleak atmosphere.
The music is uniformly great, as well, with both the score and the augmentation of one murder scene with a song called "Pretty Lady" setting a chilling tone for the more heinous segments of the film.
While the film is assuredly far too grim and humorless to make this a standard dose of escapist slasher fare, one scene perhaps goes too far and momentarily veers the film into unsavory territory.
I've always been unsettled by certain modes of juxtaposing sex with violence that turn up in horror films from time to time. The most blatant example I can think of is of course I Spit On Your Grave, which unabashedly tries to arouse the viewer with horrendously violent carnal images, and we've also seen a great deal of this irresponsible overlapping during the torture porn boom that characterized far too many of the genre offerings of the early 21st century.
An extended bathtub masturbation scene in The Toolbox Murders, which shows an attractive actress pleasuring herself with the same thoroughness that the bloodshed in the film is rendered with, is clearly meant to sexually excite the viewer. But when the money shot of this soft-core fantasy is the woman's prolonged and nearly torturous dispatch via nail-gun, there is an uncomfortable ambiguity of intent on the part of the film-makers. Thankfully, the bulk of the film isn't nearly as misogynistic, and the affair as a whole is certainly more manageable as a result.
Despite its iffy pace and unpleasant elements, the better aspects of The Toolbox Murders offer it some merited points of interest for discerning horror fans. You probably won't want to visit this blood-soaked apartment complex often, but the film is certainly worth a look.
The film is flawed on many fronts, and at times tedious, so this certainly isn't a candidate for the "classic" category. The titular killings all take place within the first half-hour, and after that the pace slows to a crawling bore that The Toolbox Murders almost doesn't recover from.
Far too much time is spent on an ultimately pointless police investigation subplot, which does nothing to augment the horror of the admittedly ghastly crimes. Only those familiar with the Hershell Gordon Lewis cult classic Blood Feast will recall ever seeing police officers as inept and clueless as the ones tracking the madman here, who aren't shy about letting potential witnesses walk all over their crime scene, and insist on questioning them while they stand over the brutally maimed corpses of the victims. When the main detective treats one of the film's attempted heroes like a jackass for suggesting that the fact there isn't any forced entry into the murder sites could suggest that the victims knew their killer, we quickly suspect that this is one case that won't be solved by tireless police work.
The film resolves its whodunnit two-thirds into the running time, so any suspense in this caper is dissipated far too early. While there is a meager attempt at a twist afterwards, only the well-crafted denouement saves the movie from falling flat at the finish. I'm fairly certain that the film's "based on true events" allegation is a bogus ploy, but the where-are-they-now update at the end is a nifty way to conclude the tale, especially since it runs with the film's eerie final image in the background.
The centerpiece of the film is of course the toolbox murders themselves, which are indeed gruesome and gory bits of mayhem. The splatter on display here is unflinching and definitely graphic enough to appease gore-hounds, but the film spends itself too quickly, packing in all of the killings into such a rapid succession that they blur together a bit and desensitize the viewer to the point that the bloodshed ceases being shocking. Had the film-makers drawn the mystery of the murders out more, and spaced them out throughout the film, these scenes could have had much more impact, and when we finally learn the diabolical motives of the killer, the killings themselves become essentially pointless. Although, it should be pointed out that the madman's (madmens'?) true intentions are suitably creepy and horrifying even without the killing spree that precedes them.
Some of the film's successes are happy accidents, such as the drab colors and unattractive surroundings the events occur in. Of course, this is more a reflection of the interior decorating trends of the late '70s than a conscious effort by the film-makers to set these ugly deeds in ugly places, but the tone of the film is certainly enhanced by the bleak atmosphere.
The music is uniformly great, as well, with both the score and the augmentation of one murder scene with a song called "Pretty Lady" setting a chilling tone for the more heinous segments of the film.
While the film is assuredly far too grim and humorless to make this a standard dose of escapist slasher fare, one scene perhaps goes too far and momentarily veers the film into unsavory territory.
I've always been unsettled by certain modes of juxtaposing sex with violence that turn up in horror films from time to time. The most blatant example I can think of is of course I Spit On Your Grave, which unabashedly tries to arouse the viewer with horrendously violent carnal images, and we've also seen a great deal of this irresponsible overlapping during the torture porn boom that characterized far too many of the genre offerings of the early 21st century.
An extended bathtub masturbation scene in The Toolbox Murders, which shows an attractive actress pleasuring herself with the same thoroughness that the bloodshed in the film is rendered with, is clearly meant to sexually excite the viewer. But when the money shot of this soft-core fantasy is the woman's prolonged and nearly torturous dispatch via nail-gun, there is an uncomfortable ambiguity of intent on the part of the film-makers. Thankfully, the bulk of the film isn't nearly as misogynistic, and the affair as a whole is certainly more manageable as a result.
Despite its iffy pace and unpleasant elements, the better aspects of The Toolbox Murders offer it some merited points of interest for discerning horror fans. You probably won't want to visit this blood-soaked apartment complex often, but the film is certainly worth a look.