The Bidding War That Could Rewrite Horror—Again
Jordan Peele wants in. Taylor Sheridan wants in. Oz Perkins really wants in. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre franchise—once a grungy grindhouse experiment, now a coveted IP—is officially the hottest corpse in Hollywood.
As of Monday, a pack of 5–8 filmmakers and studios are entering formal talks to take control of the legendary horror property originally birthed by Tobe Hooper and Kim Henkel. The rights, recently returned to a shadowy rights-holding entity calling themselves Verve, have become the bloody bone everyone wants to gnaw on.
This isn't just about remaking a slasher. It's about legacy. Tone. Control. And who gets to reboot the unspeakable.
Why Everyone Suddenly Cares About a Deranged Chainsaw Maniac
Let's be honest: the Texas Chainsaw franchise has been… messy. Since Hooper's 1974 masterpiece—arguably the most raw, realistic horror film ever made—Hollywood has cranked out a haunted house of sequels, remakes, and prequels that range from shockingly good (2003's Jessica Biel-led reboot) to flat-out unwatchable (*looking at you, 2013's Texas Chainsaw 3D).
So why the sudden gold rush? Because horror, like fashion and fascism, always comes back around.
And the players circling now aren't hacks.
- Jordan Peele, through Monkeypaw Productions, could inject the social commentary and craft he brought to Get Out and Us.
- Taylor Sheridan, TV king and western philosopher, could reimagine Leatherface through a rural gothic lens—Yellowstone meets Chainsaw, anyone?
- Oz Perkins, whose eerie, elegiac Longlegs is already a 2024 genre darling, wants to co-write a new version with The Strangers' Bryan Bertino—possibly the darkest, moodiest take yet.
- And then there's J.T. Mollner, teaming with A24 and Top Gun: Maverick's Glen Powell on a TV version. Yes, Leatherface might be headed to your binge queue.
The stakes? Who controls one of the only horror villains that hasn't been fully meme-ified. Freddy jokes. Jason's a Funko Pop. Leatherface? Still deeply upsetting.
This Isn't Just IP Flipping. It's a Ritual.
Here's the hidden truth: every few years, Hollywood ritually dismembers the Texas Chainsaw Massacre—only to stitch it back together like some Frankenstein of dread. And every time, it tries to recapture what 1974 had: that documentary-style dread, the Texas sun bleaching everything into madness, the sense you were watching something illegal.
That's why this fight matters. Because getting it wrong again could kill the last bit of credibility this franchise has.
Remember 2022's Texas Chainsaw Massacre on Netflix? Legendary Pictures made it. The rights went back to Verve shortly after. Coincidence? Or was the chainsaw just too blunt?
An anonymous exec whispered to Deadline: “We want to make something that hurts again. Something with dirt under its nails.”
Translation: No more slick kills. No more final girls doing parkour. This is Leatherface. He doesn't chase. He lumbers.
Would You Watch a Prestige Texas Chainsaw Drama? Or Scream Into the Void?
Imagine: an A24 series where Leatherface is barely seen, but felt. Or a Jordan Peele film where the family dynamic of the Sawyers is reframed through race, history, and inherited violence. Or, yes, a Taylor Sheridan dusty-ass rural epic with Leatherface as the boogeyman of a dying town.
Genius? Garbage? Probably both.
