The original version of The Toolbox Murders is a perfect example of what a slasher flick should be. Made in 1978, this film does everything it needs to do and does it very well. It has a straightforward plot, good acting, and nuanced visual storytelling. They truly don’t make them like this any more. And though you hear that phrase often, this time there is actual evidence.

Tobe Hooper’s remake—oops, I think "reimagining" is the term they use in Hollywood these days—proves this point. Hooper filled his version of this tale with all sorts of confusing paranormal mumbo jumbo about a cursed apartment building. But the original version of The Toolbox Murders is about a deranged religious fanatic using tools from his toolbox to kill women. That’s pretty much it. Nothing fancy about it, and yet it’s a much better film. Repeat after me, Hollywood: Less is more.

The toolbox murderer wears a ski mask and is terrorizing an apartment complex in Los Angeles. Any woman living there whom he deems immoral ends up on the wrong end of a tool. And this guy has a pretty broad definition of immoral. From drinking too much to dancing half naked in front of an open window, it doesn’t take much to incur this man’s wrath.

Director Dennis Donnelly sets the film up quickly. In the first fifteen minutes alone, there are the opening credits, a little psychological foreshadowing, and three kills (the weapons are drill, hammer, and screwdriver for those keeping score at home).

The main cast is efficiently introduced amid the scenes of carnage. There’s Vance Kingsley, owner of the apartment complex; Laurie Ballard, requisite good girl; Joey Ballard, Laurie’s good-guy brother; and Kent Kingsley, Vance Kingsley’s nephew and friend of Joey.

Film veteran Cameron Mitchell plays "Uncle" Vance quite effectively. Uncle Vance’s sainted young daughter, Kathy, was killed in a car wreck and it really took a toll on his sanity. Now, whenever Vance sees sinful women, he feels the need to remove them from the world—permanently. The murders aren’t as graphic as in the films of today, but they’re just as, if not more, effective.

Actually, there’s a lot more nudity than blood in this film, which is common of films of the ‘70s. It helps reminds one that today’s society is much more disturbed by a bare breast than by a brutal, graphic scene of violence. In fact, the most effective kill scene in The Toolbox Murders would probably never make it to the screen today. The killer breaks into the apartment of a woman (‘70s porn actress Kelly Nichols, appearing here as Marianne Walter) and spies her masturbating in her bathtub. She soon notices him and is chased, nude, through her apartment before Vance corners her in the bedroom and brutally kills her with a nail gun. More time is spent showing her naked body in the tub than in the blood.

The virginal Laurie, played by Pamelyn Ferdin (forever famous as being the original voice of Lucy in the Charlie Brown holiday specials) catches Vance’s attention and is kidnapped as a replacement for his dead daughter. Since the police seem concerned but rather dense, Laurie’s brother, Joey, aided by Kent, decides to find her. It’s not long before Kent realizes his uncle’s part in the mystery. Though I’ve probably revealed more than I should, don’t worry, there are more twists to be enjoyed before The Toolbox Murders ends.

Overall, the acting is fine. Kelly Nichols is very good in her death scene. Both clothed and unclothed, Nichols is a very compelling actress. Pam Ferdin and Cameron Mitchell share a scene near the end in which both performers show off their chops. It’s clear why Ferdin was one of the top child actors of the period, and though Mitchell was slumming toward the end of his long career, he is quite effective as a religious man driven mad from grief.

A product of the ‘70s, The Toolbox Murders feels a little like a "movie of the week" or an episode of "The Rockford Files," but with more explicit sex and violence. Even so, it’s a very well crafted flick. Good use is made of music of the time, and the editing and shot choices tell the story well. The film’s last scenes, those of the final girl, are among the most effective versions of this plot device I’ve seen—two shots, no dialogue, but extreme emotional impact.

Some of our finest, most influential films (horror and otherwise) were made in the ‘70s. The Toolbox Murders remains a forgotten gem among a wealth of treasures.