The “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” saga isn’t so much an ongoing story as a series of “Hey, let me have a try.” The new Netflix release, titled “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” but which I’ll call “TCM ’22,” is the third direct sequel out of the eight total follow-ups. But even the non-direct sequels, remakes and prequels are that filmmaking team’s entry in the ongoing contest.

So it’s a credit to director David Blue Garcia and writer Chris Thomas Devlin – working under the respectable cachet of producer Fede Alvarez (“Don’t Breathe”) – that I quickly stopped thinking about “TCM ’22” as product and instead as a story.

(SPOILERS FOLLOW.)

Utopia, Texas?

Devlin’s setup is cleverly off-kilter, as these young travelers are in over their head in rural Texas in a more “adult” way than previous films. These starry-eyed entrepreneurs bought up the ghost town of Harlow for redevelopment. They imagine coffee shops, a comic-book store, and a town free of violence.

“Texas Chainsaw Massacre” (2022)

Director: David Blue Garcia

Writer: Chris Thomas Devlin (screenplay); Fede Alvarez, Rodo Sayaguez (story)

Stars: Sarah Yarkin, Elsie Fisher, Moe Dunford

One group member, Lila (“Eighth Grade’s” Elsie Fisher), was wounded in a school shooting. Her sister, main character Melody (Sarah Yarkin), is a down-the-middle modern liberal who believes gun violence can be eradicated. In contrast is dyed-in-the-wool contractor/mechanic Richter (Moe Dunford), the standard “leave me alone” modern conservative and one of the last residents of Harlow.

“TCM ’22” is better than other recent horror films, such as “The Hunt,” that satirize the political binary narrative. The gang – also including leader Dante (Jacob Lattimore) and girlfriend Ruth (Nell Hudson) – soon has their positions challenged. And even better, the scope of the commentary widens and becomes subtle.

The film brilliantly pokes holes in the theoretical “two Americas” via the party bus parked in the center of town. We’re encouraged to think about “old and new,” “safe spaces and danger” and “real and artificial.”

When Leatherface (Mark Burnham) enters this world and embarks on an orgy of gore, it’s like nothing we’ve previously seen. In parts two (1986) and four (1995), the original’s filmmakers – Tobe Hooper and Kim Henkel – attempted to use “TCM” as a platform for comedic social and genre commentary.

A party gone wrong

But “TCM ’22” does it better. The obvious wrongness of the bus sequence’s violence contrasts with an odd, righteous profundity. “TCM ’22” tells us it doesn’t work to pretend the evils of the world can be wiped out by laws, or by good vibes, or by ignoring them, or by tackling lesser evils and declaring “mission accomplished.”

Garcia knows how to stage, frame and pace this stuff. Outside of Leatherface’s party-bus crash, I can’t say any set-up is wildly original, but the situations are organic. When Mel is hiding under a bed, watching a showdown occur in the room, it’s believable that she’s stuck there, terrified.

It’s hard to come up with gore we haven’t seen before, but Devlin and Garcia do, starting with a shocking scene in the back of an ambulance. This is a “Chainsaw” film but it’s not filled with “Hey, remember that!” moments. The field of drooping sunflowers isn’t something previous films have emphasized, yet it immediately feels like an appropriate image.

Speaking of tie-ins, Olwen Fouéré looks remarkably like the late Marilyn Burns, so there is weight to the continuation of Sally Hardesty’s battle against Leatherface. Also in “TCM ’22’s” favor, no previous sequel had tackled this idea directly.

Devlin unapologetically goes all-in, transplanting “Halloween’s” Laurie-vs.-Michael showdown. It’s a standard sequel idea, but it’s welcome. “TCM ’22” gives us thematically profound violence against the backdrop of the unexpected ghost town, and it resonates as something both classic and new.

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My rating: