By RICKY J. DUARTE

It’s a hot, sticky, August afternoon in Middle of Nowhere, Texas. A strapping young man unassumingly wanders into a decrepit farmhouse, beckoned by curious pig-like squeals from just past a narrow staircase, just beyond a cowhide-lined entryway, from a blood-red room ensconced with animal skulls.

As he investigates, he quickens his pace, calling out, “Hey, pal!” as he approaches the crimson chamber. He runs, trips and stumbles into an upward-tilting shot of a curiously masked figure big enough to fill the doorway. Is that someone’s face? An audibly unforgettable sledgehammer whack to the head sends the young man into nauseatingly spasmodic death throes before he’s unceremoniously finished off. The gargantuan assailant flings the body inside the doorway with a grunt, punctuating this grotesque scene with the slam of a steel sliding door.

This alarming sequence from The Texas Chain Saw Massacre – a mere 50 seconds in length – would go on to incite endless nightmares as the world got its first glimpse of Leatherface. Even 51 years later, the scene serves as a masterclass in suspense. The sounds of the growling generator outside provide an ominous, irritating score, leading to killer’s animalistic grunts, that terrible thud from the mallet, and crescendoing in the metallic screech of that damned sliding door. The sudden visual transition from a setting draped in organic materials to solid metal seemingly comes from nowhere, sealing poor Kirk (William Vail) in his hellish, bloody doom. It all builds to the unforgettable introduction of one of modern horror’s most iconic figures. 

Yet, as barbaric as Leatherface seems, there is a surprisingly vulnerable and sympathetic side to this maniacal creature – a sensitivity that, in the hands of any other actor, would probably have gone unnoticed. Fortunately, the actor who first donned the skin mask was the one and only Gunnar Hansen.

Hansen’s unforgettable role in Tobe Hooper‘s unrelenting 1974 classic would change the course of his entire life. However, when he wasn’t giving audiences nightmares, he lived a quiet, peaceful life in a seaside town in Maine. In addition to portraying maniacs, he was a poet, writer, boater, and above all else, a genuinely tender soul.

His tragic passing in November of 2015 from pancreatic cancer left an indelible void in both the world of horror cinema and the hearts of those who knew and loved him, yet his reputation as a gentle giant remains. In Michael Kallio’s new documentary feature, DINNER WITH LEATHERFACE, Hansen’s loved ones poignantly share this side of him with the world.

Kallio featured Hansen in his 2002 film Hatred of a Minute, a collaboration that would spark a years-long friendship. He shared his experiences working on the documentary, which took nearly a decade to produce, with RUE MORGUE.

Filmmaker Michael Kallio

How did you first come to know Gunnar Hansen?

I met him at a local convention. I was just a young fanboy, and I met him in the Detroit area. I worked for a local company called Gags & Games. And Gags & Games sold… gags and games! They sold, you know, fake dog poo and fake vomit and trick gum. But they also sold costumes and masks and makeup, and they rented costumes. It was a very bizarre store.

Well, I started working there, and we produced our own line of horror props and skulls and cut-off heads and shrunken heads and body parts and things like that. So, Gags Studios had a table at the convention. 

So, we were there working, and Angus Scrimm was there. Gunnar was there, and Tom Savini was there. I was a huge fan of Gunnar’s, and I just walked over to him, and we ended up having a half-hour conversation about the sound design in the William Vail kill scene – when he gets hit in the head with the hammer and the door slides shut. I told him, “I’m writing a movie you’d be great to be in,” and he was like, “Here’s my P.O. Box, send me the script.” He was a very nice man.

He was like that the entire time I knew him. He embraced me and my career, or what I was trying to do as far as becoming a filmmaker. I was just a little fanboy at a convention. And I was like, “Hey, mister! I like you,” and we struck up a conversation, and then, we would correspond.

We didn’t make a movie until five years later – something like that. I had a project that I was trying to raise money for that he’d signed onto, and that fell apart, so I wrote something new with him in mind for a role, and we made the movie in ‘95.

It was kind of crazy. People would be like, “Who’s Gunar Hansen?” and I’m like, “He was Leatherface. I’m friends with the original Leatherface!” which was kind of cool.

How did you come up with the title DINNER WITH LEATHERFACE?

Well, funny story: In 1987, I discovered a local band called The 3-D Invisibles, and I picked up their first album, which was called Jump Off the Screen, at a really cool, independent record store called Sam’s Jams in Ferndale, Michigan. They had a huge local section, and on the endcap was this album that jumped out at me because it was in 3D. The art was by this local artist, who was also my favorite artist, Glenn Barr. Glenn Barr had drawn this very intricate album cover with The 3-D Invisibles and their instruments jumping out of a screen and a bunch of monsters in the audience. It was in 3D, and it came with 3D glasses and everything. I flipped the album over, and there was a song called “Dinner with Leatherface.” I was like, I’m buying this album, and I fell in love with it.

Years later, [Gunnar] called me. He’s like, “Hey, I’m gonna be in Detroit, shooting some pickups for Mosquito. Can you pick me up from the airport?” So, I picked him up from the airport, and I go, “Oh, dude. You have to listen to this!” I put that tape in and played it for him, and he fell in love.

So after he passed, I pulled the trigger on the documentary, probably a week after he passed. At the time, it was called The Untitled Gunnar Hansen Project. A couple of weeks after I had started shooting, I had this little MP3 player with all my music on it. I plugged it into the car and hit random, and that was the first song that came up, and I went, There’s my title.

If a documentary about Gunnar had been made during his life, do you think he would have participated or approved of the production?

It was funny because I used to joke with him before he passed. I was like, “You’re a walking documentary, man. You’re so interesting. You never tell the same story twice.” Every time he told a story, it was something new, something fun and just crazy and exciting. I said, “We should do a documentary about you,” and he said, “No one would want to watch that,” and I’m like, “I would!” I wanted to do it before he passed, but unfortunately, it didn’t happen that way. So, I think he would have participated. I really do. I think he would have been very involved because we’re all a little bit narcissistic in this business. And why wouldn’t you want a documentary about you? I would! If someone wants to do a documentary about me, hell yeah, I’m in!

I’d watch that documentary! I’ve seen your list of credits! Gunnar Hansen had a positive reputation with his peers. What was the reaction when approaching people to talk about him in your film?

Most of the time, it was, “My pleasure.” There was no real question of “Well, I don’t know.” I had a few people push back, but they’re not in the documentary. You know, they were just like, “I don’t really have a lot to say; I didn’t know him that well,” but for the most part, everyone in that documentary was gung ho and excited and honored to be a part of it, which was cool for me because it was an honor to be part of creating this documentary. This is a love letter to him. It’s cool when you find out a guy who’s touched your life has touched so many other lives, even with a simple gesture or just being kind. And that was Gunnar. He was always just a really cool, nice guy.

A young Gunnar Hansen sailing near his home in Maine

You mention that you began work two weeks after he passed. How long did it take to compile all of this footage?

Between starting to completion, almost nine years as far as footage was concerned. As far as the post-production process, I was cutting along the way. But when Anchor Bay got involved, they pulled in another two editors, and they just kind of threw out what I did, which was fine. I had about 25 interviews when I started cutting, and now it’s over 60. So, what I had was fine, but they made it better, and I came in at the end and tightened things up. As a matter of fact, I cut the majority of the last third of it.

Over time, when I started shooting, it wasn’t like I was working on it every day, but anytime I had an opportunity to shoot an interviewee, a friend or a colleague, I would. And then, we had a pandemic, and I think the only interview during the pandemic that I did was with Daniel Pearl. I had reached out to Marcus Nispel, who directed the remake, and I said, “Did you know Gunnar?” And he said, “I don’t really have anything to say, I only met Gunnar twice, but you should talk to Daniel Pearl,” and he shot me his information, and I reached out to him. 

The great thing about Daniel Pearl is he’s a DP. I didn’t want to have Zoom-recorded video, I wanted it to look as nice as possible, and so he said, “Well, look, I’ll just shoot my own footage. We can talk via Zoom, but I’ll shoot my own footage and just send it to you,” and that’s what he did.

Over the course of like seven, eight years, we interviewed people.

You mentioned you took over editing for the final third of the film. That’s kind of where it takes this unexpectedly vulnerable and emotional turn. I did not expect to tear up during a documentary about the man who played Leatherface! You can really tell that you loved him and had the utmost respect for him. Essentially, it becomes a tribute. Was that always the intention?

Yes. The funny thing is, my main goal was that it would be about Gunnar. It’s about everything else but The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. But he was Texas Chain Saw Massacre in a way. And if that film was never made, I wouldn’t have met him, plain and simple. It was such a predominant part of his life – reuniting with the cast and crew of the original film, all the conventions, the book he wrote about the making of the movie. You know, his career revolved around that movie. It was sort of inevitable. 

But yeah, it was my intent to make it about Gunnar, and it is. 

Gunnar Hansen with fellow Leatherface Bill Johnson

That’s how I went about writing my questions, too. I wanted to avoid too many Leatherface-specific questions and really talk about Gunnar, but it’s kind of inevitable. It’s going to come up. My only Texas Chain Saw question is this: Many talented people have played Leatherface. What is it about his performance that is so unmistakable and unforgettable?

It had never been done before. He wanted to make the character as iconic as possible because he was a very thoughtful person; There was so much thought put into it … He didn’t think of it as a guy with a mask just running around, grunting and killing people. It was a deeper character. He made that character what it is. That’s why it stands out. That, and no one had seen anything like it before. Sure, we had Psycho, but Norman Bates didn’t wear the skin of a person on his face. He just threw a wig and a dress on. But that character, we’d never seen anything like Leatherface before. So, it is truly an iconic performance because of Gunnar, but also that visual that Toby Hooper and Kim Henkel created. This guy has different faces for his emotions, but you never see the real face. And like Gunnar used to say, if you take the mask off, there’s no face there. It’s not there. 

The film’s credits give a special thanks to Gunnar’s partner, Betty Tower. What sort of insider help did she contribute to the film?

Originally, the wounds hurt. Betty didn’t want to be involved, though she gave me her blessing. They were very private when he was in Maine, and he was being “Mr. Northeast Harbor.” That was his normal life. The horror movie world, the industry, was completely separate.

She didn’t want to give me any baby pictures and things like that, so I had to work with what I had, which is why I came up with the homage to the original movie’s opening credit crawl. Like… let’s get this out of the way. Yes, we know he was born at an early age, grew up, went to school and went to college. That’s when Texas Chain Saw Massacre started, and we move on from there. So, unfortunately, we didn’t get a bunch of baby pictures, but at the same time, it forced me to be creative.

I kept Betty posted throughout the process. She still hasn’t watched it yet. I sent her a Blu-ray a while ago, and I completely understand, you know, he was her partner. So, I’m hoping she appreciates it as much as most of the people who’ve watched it do. And I think she will because it’s all about love, man.

Do you have a favorite memory of Gunnar?

I have a lot of favorite memories of Gunnar. Every time we hung out, it was wild and fun. Yeah, actually, one of the times he and I got together, we went to dinner, and we ended up going to drink beer at this really divey bar near my house in Redford, Michigan. We were playing the Indiana Jones pinball game – and he was really good at pinball. We were just having such a blast, shooting the shit and playing pinball and drinking beer. That was our night.

People would come out, “Hey, who’s your friend?” “Oh, it’s Leatherface!” They’re like, “What?!” “Oh yeah, it’s Gunnar Hansen, he played the original Leatherface!” That was cool. I felt like a big shot.

The film includes a lovely quote from Gunnar discussing his own mortality and the legacy he hoped to leave behind. How do you think Gunnar will be remembered?

With all the warmth and love and admiration and sincerity that everyone who’s involved with the documentary shows. II think that shines through in the documentary – that he was really liked. Even if he pissed people off, he was still loved. And Gunnar was human. He wasn’t perfect. He was still revered for who he was, which was a kind, genuine, non-assuming person.

I really think that it’s above and beyond that quote. Although funny, he knew better. He really did. He was pleasantly, hilariously self-deprecating, and he really didn’t need to be. You could compliment him, and he would humbly accept it, but I think that he was a little bit shy when it came to stuff like that. It kind of disarmed him a little bit. He didn’t want to show too much of the gentle giant that he was. I love that quote, but… he knew better.

DINNER WITH LEATHERFACE is now available on Blu-ray from Anchor Bay Entertainment.