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Of all the iconic killers in horror, few are as terrifying as Leatherface.

First seen in Tobe Hooper’s horror masterpiece, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, he is the former slaughterhouse worker who continues his trade butchering humans to feed his psychotic family. Leatherface earns his moniker with his trademark mask made of human skin, one of countless repurposed body parts from his many victims.

The actual makeup of these faces changes throughout the blood-soaked franchise, but each mask comes from a unique person and has been chosen for a specific purpose. With the release of a new sequel and with it a new mask, perhaps it’s time to examine the many faces worn by the mysterious killer throughout the years…

Leatherface (Gunnar Hansen) has one of the most iconic, startling, and genuinely upsetting introductions in the history of horror. As road tripper Kirk (William Vail) wanders into his rural farmhouse, a large man appears and smashes his head with a sledgehammer before dragging him further into the house and slamming a heavy metal door. On its face this is striking enough, but even more startling is the fact that the giant with the sledgehammer is wearing a mask made from the skin of a human face. It’s old and fading with stitching in a circle around the hairline. Short brown hair juts out in spurts giving the appearance of a young man hard at work. With his dirty apron and shirtsleeves, this is the persona Leatherface assumes when slaughtering meat for the family, his Work Mask.

Leatherface wears two more distinct faces in the original film. The second is the mask of an old woman complete with gray hair. This Granny Mask is the outfit he wears when preparing dinner, a matronly costume to fill the role of the family’s missing matriarch. He wears the third and final mask to the dinner table. With longer dark hair, this one has its features exaggerated by makeup and goes with a dark suit and tie.

We never learn the identities of the people whose faces create these personas. Hooper’s ambiguity is a large part of why the film still packs such a meaty punch and Leatherface’s masks reveal more about the killer himself than the bodies from which they came. Dressing for the part he wants, his costumes help him navigate social interactions with his deranged family.

Hooper’s sequel is equally depraved, but arguably more comedic than its predecessor. Upon first appearance in the film, Leatherface (Bill Johnson) wears a full body mask of sorts, the corpse of his brother the Hitchhiker who died in the conclusion of the original film. He and other brother Chop-Top (Bill Moseley) tote this body around as a twisted way of honoring their departed sibling.

While Leatherface’s masks in the original were mostly intact faces, this one is stitched together with seams resembling Frankenstein’s monster. Less distinct, it seems designed to cover his own face rather than assume the face of another. With its curly hair and expressive eyes, this mask compliments the dark comedy of the film. Leatherface often seems more like a bumbling and occasionally horny monster than a killer embodying the skin of someone else.

Hooper’s sequel is notable not only for being the first time we see Leatherface make a mask, but the only time he creates a new face for someone else. Finding his crush Stretch (Caroline Williams) hiding in his layer, Leatherface skins the face of her captive coworker L.G. (Lou Perryman) and places his face, and cowboy hat, onto hers. Leatherface then dances with a traumatized Stretch, seeming to enjoy the company of another skin-wearer.

The strange scene takes a darker turn when we realize that L.G. is still alive. He awakens to see Stretch wearing his own face and dies attempting to help her escape. As a parting gift, she returns his facial skin and hat to his body. It’s a touching moment in a darkly comedic and grossly upsetting film that reveals the emotional weight of using the face of another person as an accessory.

Jeff Burr’s third franchise installment puts the mask front and center, opening with a deranged sewing session as Leatherface (R.A. Mihailoff) painstakingly creates a new mask. What begins with the swing of a sledgehammer continues with the grisly details of harvesting and shaping material from an unnamed victim. The skin is trimmed and shaped, stitched to fit just right. This extended procedure reveals the care with which Leatherface makes his masks and is made all the more upsetting with the revelation that the victim’s loved one witnesses the vile creation.

Opening title cards explain that a jury convicted W.E. Sawyer of the original film’s murders, believing “Leatherface” to be an alternate personality activated by the fleshy mask. Like the previous version, this mask is stitched together with a patchwork feel. It’s not the face of another person, but an amalgam of features creating a unique look. Larger eye holes allow the audience to see more of Leatherface’s own expressions and lend the already terrifying killer even more of a menacing aura. It’s fitting characterization in a film where the mask seems to become an entity in and of itself. No longer the face of another, it is a new identity for a brutal killer.

To stand out in a franchise as bizarre as this one is quite a feat. But Kim Henkel’s sequel manages to do just that. Part parody of Hooper’s original, part 90s black comedy, part McConaughey Madness, The Next Generation duplicates the structure of the first film’s masks. Leatherface (Robert Jacks) is introduced in what has become the standard, stitched together mask, the work-a-day version he wears to the slaughter. But we see him eyeing prom-goer Heather’s (Lisa Marie Newmyer) hair on the porch, perhaps scouting for his next look.

His second mask is a direct parody of the Granny Mask of the first film. More Doubtfire than Leather, this one comes complete with costume earrings, oversized pearls and a curly gray wig comically perched on top of his own shaggy brown hair. Ironically, this may be the mask that looks the most like a human face, with wrinkled skin similar to the nearly dead Grampa.

The parody escalates with Leatherface’s dinner look: an evening gown, glamorous wig, and harvested décolletage to accompany the feminine face. As he prepares for dinner, he applies red lipstick to the mask, a mirror of the film’s Final Girl Jenny (Renée Zellweger) as she prepares for prom. This also marks the first time in the franchise that Leatherface has overt plans to create a mask from another character. Maniacal brother Vilmer (Matthew McConaughey) notes his adoration of Jenny’s face saying, “My brother here is tired of what’s-her-name’s face, and he wants a new one. It just so happens to be, he wants this face right here!”

While none of the sequels ever quite measure up to the perfection of the original film, Marcus Nispel’s remake arguably comes closest to capturing the chaotic depravity of Hooper’s nightmare. The gritty film combines the iconic story’s original ingredients and adds in a heaping dose of meanness and large splatters of blood. Nispel introduces Leatherface (Andrew Bryniarski) in what’s come to feel like his Workman’s Mask, nondescript with functional stitching running along the cheekbone and hairline. But the monstrous butcher soon has tempting new materials.

After killing Kemper (Eric Balfour), he cuts off his face and uses it to fashion a mask. Though mentioned in the fourth film, this marks the first time Leatherface has made a mask from the body of another character in the film. The reveal of the Kemper Mask is an emotional gut-punch. Upon seeing it, his girlfriend Erin (Jessica Biel) learns in an instant that not only is her boyfriend dead, but his body has been mutilated and she’s likely to be next.

We know that Leatherface can afford to be choosy with his masks. A head lying in his workspace tells us that he does not wear the skin of all of his victims. So what is it about Kemper, aside from Balfour’s handsome features? In this installment, we’re told that Leatherface hides his face because of a skin condition that garnered ruthless mockery when he was a child. Perhaps he’s drawn to Kemper’s alpha-male charisma. The mask exists both to hide the face he’s ashamed of and to give him the appearance he likely longed for growing up. He does make sure to change back into his old mask to hunt Erin through the slaughterhouse, though. It’s as if he’s proud of his precious new creation and doesn’t want it damaged in what may turn out to be a bloody battle. Or maybe he just wants to save his new face for a special occasion.

The direct prequel to the 2003 remake doubles down on just about every element of the Platinum Dunes production. It is gritty, bloody, mean, and gross with another handsome lead actor destined to become a mask for the chainsaw toting giant. Jonathan Liebesman’s film also gives more of a glimpse into the mind of the monster and provides answers as to why Leatherface (Bryniarski) might want to make a mask out of someone else’s face.

From the moment of his birth on the slaughterhouse floor, Leatherface is considered ugly. The film’s opening sequence tells us that his disfigurement caused not only cruel teasing but self-loathing and self-mutilation. He takes to wrapping his face in bandages and a mask made of animal skin that covers its lower half. But when Eric (Matt Bomer) and his party are dragged to the Sawyer house, he seizes the opportunity to reinvent himself.

Having strapped Eric to a table in his workshop, Leatherface scopes out the new material. He feels Eric’s face then his own, comparing their dimensions and features. Moments after killing Eric he strips the skin and hair from his head and creates a mask. Still dripping with blood from its former body, Leatherface applies the new skin to his own face. It’s his first human mask. Uncle Charlie (R. Lee Ermey) compliments his appearance, immediately reinforcing this grisly choice and providing the validation he’s spent his life longing for. After killing Eric’s girlfriend Chrissie (Jordana Brewster), he feels her face too. We can almost hear the wheels turning as he plots his next look. He’s learned a new skill and is anxious to use it again.

John Luessenhop’s 2013 sequel is a bit of a departure from the original timeline and by far the most sympathetic to Leatherface (Dan Yeager) and the Sawyers. Rather than a murderous madman, he’s a misunderstood teenager, simply trying to protect his family. Decades after the events of the first film, long lost Sawyer daughter Heather (Alexandra Daddario) inherits the family home. Living in the wine cellar, Leatherface comes as part of the package. This version of his mask is similar to the Workman’s Mask, stitched together to cover his face rather than to create a distinct look. It is strictly functional, a fitting mask for a film that takes pains to lend sympathy to a killer wearing harvested skin.

But Leatherface does make a new mask in this installment. After killing the cruel Officer Marvin (James MacDonald), he peels the man’s face off in his workshop. Slight movements of Marvin’s foot indicate that he is still alive during the defacing, a cruel fate for the man who helped to murder his family. Though it’s unclear if Leatherface ever wears this mask, he does scratch out Marvin’s face in a picture on his wall, a portion of his revenge now complete. This installment is also notable as we see Leatherface sew the mask onto his own skin. Stitching his cheek to the mask, he attempts to actually embody the foreign skin rather than simply wear it until the next mask comes along.

The 2017 prequel from directors Alexandre Bustillo and Julien Maury continues the trend of humanizing the chainsaw toting killer. Not only a protagonist, in this installment a young Leatherface (Sam Strike) is ostensibly the hero of the film until he is reunited with his murderous family. In early scenes a young Jed wears a mask of a different sort, a large cow’s head. Dressing as roadkill, he wears an animal’s face to pull over passing motorists and lure them into his family’s kill zone. This bit of reluctant mischief results in removal from his family’s home and commitment to a detention center for juvenile offenders. Jed’s jaw is mangled by a bullet during a protracted escape attempt, providing a new origin story for his facial disfigurement.

Leatherface also creates a new history of the iconic killer’s first skin mask. While escaping the home, he and well-meaning nurse Lizzy (Vanessa Grasse) are held captive by psychotic resident Ike. The two hostages form a bond and she tries to wrestle him away from murderous family. Jed ultimately chooses his family over a life with Lizzy and decapitates her with his chainsaw in the film’s climax. The final scene shows Jed making his first mask from the skin of her face.

David Blue Garcia’s new sequel presents yet another alternate timeline in the Sawyer cinematic universe. This version of Leatherface (Mark Burnham) has been hiding in an orphanage in the town of Harlow ever since the events of the first film. He’s become close to the elderly headmistress Mrs. MC (Alice Krige) and views her as a surrogate mother. Now an adult, he is the last of her boys and the two live together in a town that is falling apart.

When gentrifiers wrongfully evict her from the property, Leatherface is evicted as well. In shock, Mrs. MC suffers a heart attack and dies in the arms of her adopted son. After brutally killing everyone in sight, Leatherface lovingly cuts off Mrs. MC’s face and wears it as his own. It’s a bizarre act of devotion completed by artfully posing her body in a field. This time the mask seems to be a form of tribute, a way to stay connected to a woman who has meant so much to him.

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre franchise is a bit of a mess with conflicting timelines, multiple Sawyer brothers, prize-winning barbeque, and even an abandoned amusement park. But aside from the titular saw, TCM’s one constant is its signature villain’s habit of covering his own face with the skin of others. Raised in a depraved family, maybe this is Leatherface’s surreal way of attaining his own humanity. The saw may be family, but the skin feels like home.