Rated | Alphabetical
Darren Lynn Bousman, USA, 2006
You thought Jigsaw was done after SAW II?
You thought he was finished? Well, guess what? Even on his deathbed, the homes
ainít even close to being done! Thatís right, Jigsaw has some medical
complications and has seen better days, but with the help of his psycho female
understudy, he's out once again to teach his victims the value of life. Well,
thatís his spin on it; who am I to say otherwise?
Bone-twisting rack devices; hooks embedded in human flesh (a violation on the
Hellraiser patent if you ask me); death by immersion in -- oh, letís just
call them not-so-fresh pig entrails; and, of course, the ever-popular
mini-explosive shotgun-shell collar. I think I left out a few examples, but I
think these are sufficient to explain the scope of my boyís work. Hereís the
deal: psycho understudy kidnaps a doctor and takes her to the intricate SAW
complex. Here, the good doctor is fitted with the shotgun collar and told that
if Jigsaw cannot survive the complications of his brain tumor, then the collar
will go off and do her ugly. Cruel? Perhaps. But that is the way of Jigsaw. He's
the thinking manís movie bad guy.
Seriously, work with me here. Anyone can pick up a butcher knife and
stalk nubile teens; it takes a deeper commitment to come up with some of these
contraptions and present people with a choice between a fractured life and a
really, really gruesome death. Also, the intelligence this dude can gather is
awesome. He knows the identity of a drunk driver, the names of witnesses who
fled the scene, and the inner thoughts of the father of the drunk
driverís victim. The CIA ainít got nothin' on this dude! Turn Jigsaw
loose on behalf of our government, and I have no doubt heíd have Osama hooked up
to a gonad-slicing Rube Goldberg death trap in no time.
But my man Jigsaw isn't perfect. One would think that if he could lay his hands
on a supply of sulfuric acid, and have access to millions of dollars of video
surveillance equipment, that he could scoop up a bottle of Noxzema or aloe
lotion. I mean, Homes is one leathery dude. Take some time out for yourself and
freshen up a little, is all Iím sayin'! Wash, shave, and splash on a little
after-shave, why donít ya? Of course, the fluorescent lights in Jigsawís lair
really ainít helping matters any, either. Between those buzzing lights, the
concrete walls and the random blood and assorted other fluids that are
splattered everywhere, I can see where it would be easy to let yourself go. But
still, Jig, tighten up!
Just as the Tall Man had his flying orbs, Freddy Krueger had his finger knives
and Michael Myers had his creepy William Shatner mask, so too does Jigsaw have a
calling card: the dreaded SAW puppet! Much like
The Grudge, if you see it, you are in for
a long day. The first two films gave proper respect to the puppet. Sadly, in the
third installment, the puppet doesn't get the screen time he deserves. If you
can show me a Wahlberg brother on screen for three minutes, you can damn sure
find double that time for the puppet.
Having said all of this, SAW III is what SAW III is. It's an
exercise in suspension of disbelief, not to mention a glorious theatre of
splatter and the absurd. Is there any other relevance to this? Of course not! If
you're looking for life-altering epiphanies from any movie with the word Saw
in the title, well, you pretty much deserve the hooks-in-the-flesh treatment
yourself. Enjoy the splatter. Marvel at Jigsawís resourcefulness! Lament the
lack of puppet screen time. It's a cinematic cookie jar. Reach in and take what
you want, and leave the rest. But when you reach in, you might wanna take a peek
inside first and make sure it isn't fitted with a bunch of whirring saw blades.
I'm just sayin'.
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