"Behind the Blades: What It Was Like to Work on the Saw Franchise"

By Thomas Fenton

Working on Saw was like walking into a horror movie and never yelling “cut.” It was dark, intense, relentless—and one of the most creatively fulfilling experiences of my life.

When people ask me what it was like, I always say the same thing: Saw didn’t feel like we were making a horror movie. It felt like we were detonating one.

A Franchise That Changed the Game

When I came aboard the Saw franchise, horror was in transition. Slashers had worn out their welcome, and audiences were craving something that didn’t just scare them—but messed with their heads. Saw delivered that. It wasn’t just gore for gore’s sake. It was psychological warfare wrapped in blood and barbed wire. The genius of Saw was that it made the audience complicit. Every trap had a choice. Every victim had a past. It wasn’t just about what happened—it was about why it happened. And as a writer, that’s where the real meat is.

Writing in the Jigsaw Universe

Working in the Saw world meant constantly reverse-engineering everything. We’d start with the ending, with the twist, with the reveal—and then work backward. It was a puzzle box. A Rubik’s Cube of dread. You had to make sure every piece locked into place: the timeline, the traps, the character motivations, the callbacks to earlier films. Fans would spot inconsistencies instantly. There was no faking it. But that challenge was also the thrill. This wasn’t plug-and-play horror. This was an intricate mythology with deep lore, interwoven timelines, and a moral code as twisted as Jigsaw’s traps.

The Pressure Was Real

Saw wasn’t just another horror sequel—it was a phenomenon. And with that came pressure. Fan expectations. Studio expectations. The challenge of keeping things fresh while staying true to the tone. We weren’t just trying to top the last film—we were trying to evolve it. That pressure forced us to be sharper. Smarter. Bolder. It pushed me as a writer in ways no other project had. I had to dig deeper, get darker, and think ten steps ahead. And I loved every second of it.

What Saw Gave Me

Working on Saw taught me how to build fear from the ground up. It taught me how to structure a story like a trap—tight, unforgiving, and inevitable. It showed me the power of moral ambiguity, and how horror can ask real questions: What would you do to survive? What do you deserve? More than anything, Saw taught me that horror, at its best, doesn’t just make you scream. It makes you think.

Final Cut

Looking back, I’m proud to have been part of something that left such a deep scar on the genre. Saw wasn’t just a job—it was a proving ground. A crash course in fear, tension, and how far you can push an audience before they break. And I’ll say this: once you’ve written for Jigsaw, there’s no turning back. You start seeing traps everywhere. Choices. Consequences. And you realize that the scariest thing isn’t death—it’s living with the things you’ve done to avoid it.