Bleak and unabashedly grubby, Dennis Donnelly’s The Toolbox Murders straddles the line between several intersecting genres. For one, its opening half hour plays out like a proto-slasher film, since it was released several months before John Carpenter’s Halloween “officially” inaugurated that movement. Elsewhere, the killer wears a ski mask and black gloves like the one in Sergio Martino’s Torso, thus aligning it with the Italian giallo. What’s more, the shift in the film’s second half to focus more on perverse psychological motivations suggests the influence of exploitation classics like The Candy Snatchers.
Given the film’s protean construction, The Toolbox Murders frontloads its gore in its opening act. The killings come out of nowhere, with barely an introduction to the soon-to-be victims, let alone any truly defining characteristics, before they’re taken out by drill, hammer, screwdriver, and nail gun, respectively. One of the consequences of this decision is that the effectiveness of the death scenes largely hinges on how well the actresses sell them. Unfortunately, the first few victims react with all the aplomb of a storefront mannequin. Only Kelly Nichols gets any real screentime, and she definitely makes the most of it as her character segues from a little bathtub self-love to running around her apartment dodging nail volleys in the altogether.
The rather perfunctory police investigation into the murders, and the subsequent kidnapping of 15-year-old Laurie Ballard (Pamelyn Ferdin), exists only to emphasize the screenplay’s notion that people don’t really care about each other. This is brought out even further by the reaction of the apartment complex’s fellow residents, none of whom seem to know (or care) very much about the victims. One gentlemen in particular appears motivated more by prurient voyeurism than any real sense of compassion. Such a lack of concern also plays into the queasy scene where Detective Jamison (Tim Donnelly, the filmmaker’s brother) shifts from questioning to subliminally hitting on Laurie’s distraught mother, Joanne (Aneta Corsault).
The film’s centerpiece is the revelation that the killer and Laurie’s kidnapper is Vance Kingsley (Cameron Mitchell), the owner of the apartment building. In a stunning 10-minute monologue, Kingsley lays out his twisted relationship with his dead daughter, Kathy, whose demise we witnessed in the film’s opening moments without realizing its full import. In the way of puritanical patriarchs everywhere, Kingsley was obsessed with keeping Kathy unsullied. Now that she’s gone, he’s transferred his preoccupation to “cutting out evil” everywhere he finds it—and, brother, it’s everywhere. That Kingsley’s interest in Laurie isn’t entirely pure as the driven snow is underlined by the kinky S&M bondage he’s got strapping her down.
The third act throws viewers another curveball by unmasking a second killer in the offing. It’s the kind of destabilizing narrative effect that finds it apotheosis in a film like Dario Argento’s Tenebre. But The Toolbox Murders doesn’t stop there when it comes to plumbing the depths of its characters’ depravity. There’s a final twist that leads to one of the most downbeat final shots in ’70s horror, a revelation of ineluctable madness that ties in nicely with many of Brian De Palma’s films of the decade. A final title card that expresses the fate of surviving characters is an obvious nod to the chief inspiration behind the making of this film: Tobe Hooper’s The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. But rather than rural desolation, we’re left with suburban anomie.
Image/Sound
The Toolbox Murders comes in UHD and HD Blu-ray versions, both taken from a new 4K scan of the original camera negative. In either case, there’s a marked improvement over Blue Underground’s already impressive 2010 Blu-ray release. The UHD disc boasts even brighter colors, bolder blacks, better managed grain levels, and finer clarity of details that lend added depth to the image. Audio options include Dolby Atmos, Master Audio 5.1 surround, and Master Audio mono. The Dolby Atmos track is the way to go here, with a deeper and richer delivery of ambient effects as well as George Deaton’s atmospheric synth-and-piano score, not to mention those incongruously hilarious country and western tunes.
Extras
An archival commentary track with producer Tony DiDio, cinematographer Gary Graver, and star Pamelyn Ferdin provides plenty of in-depth production history and lively personal anecdotes, making for an enjoyable listen. An excellent new commentary from film historians Troy Howarth and Nathaniel Thompson is equal parts engaging and informative, with the pair going into the relationship of The Toolbox Murders to the slasher and giallo genres, outlining the film’s unorthodox narrative construction, giving lots of interesting location information, and doing a deep dive into star Cameron Mitchell’s extensive filmography. (There’s also a great bit about DP Gary Graver and Orson Welles’s possible collaboration on the porno 3 A.M.)
In “Drill Sergeant,” director Dennis Donnelly covers his early work directing episodic TV, the film’s low-budget and cramped shooting schedule, Mitchell creating the film’s key monologue out of whole cloth, and getting the most mileage out of an on-loan crane. Elsewhere, actor Wesley Eure talks about transitioning from TV good guys to a darker role, how he had trouble shaking the part after filming, lending nuance to his character, and how the film’s popularity just might have saved his life. And in two interviews—one old, one new—actress Kelly Nichols (credited in the film under her given name, Marianne Walter) discusses her modelling career, doubling for Jessica Lange in King Kong, working on low-budget horror titles, her move into porn in the ’80s, and her lingering reputation as a scream queen.
Two other featurettes round out the set. In “Slashback Memories,” film historian David Del Valle tackles Mitchell the man and the actor in a reminiscence that’s both cattily hilarious and ultimately quite touching. And in the incisive video essay “They Know I’ve Been Sad,” film historian Amanda Reyes and filmmaker Chris O’Neill scrutinize The Toolbox Murders in its depiction of urban alienation and how its characters cope with trauma, tragedy, and loss.
Overall
Part slasher, part queasy psychological horror, and all grimy, Dennis Donnelly’s The Toolbox Murders gets an exceptional UHD upgrade and a bevy of excellent new bonus features.
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