Actually the Klaus chainsaw scene reminded me of my old Junior High shop teacher who taught us how to have tabletop belt sander races, where somebody was responsible for catching the still-running sanders when they left the tabletop, lest they drop to the floor and break, a result that was declared an unacceptable fate for a high-quality power woodworking tool. It takes a considerable amount of nerve and finesse to safely belly-catch a large and heavy all-metal belt sander attached to an extension cord and still running at full rpm's, taking advantage of 40-grit for traction and resultant speed. We're not talking some cheap-ass 1/2-pound mostly-plastic Black and Decker model running 220 grit.
Same teacher who, on the last class day of high school, let one of my classmates fire a "cannon" he'd constructed from of an old bored-out truck axle that used black powder and a firecracker fuse to shoot a .50 caliber lead ball. On its first (and last) firing, it did drive the ball into the screen of an old TV used as a target (just outside the shop squarely on school grounds) resulting in a satisfying "whoompf" sound and lots of broken glass, but also exploded, leaving several people standing "closer than they should have been" with embedded powder burns to their faces and arms. Nobody was wearing any safety equipment. "Damned lucky somebody didn't lose an eye." The affected persons would have made an excellent baseline for future Gunpowder Residue Testing.
It was the 1970's, though. We just thought it all was incredibly cool and immediately swore the incident to secrecy. We quickly picked up the desroyed TV, swept up the broken screen glass along with what was left of the cannon and threw it all into the trunk of a '69 Chevelle and disposed of it in some roadside ditch. Some inside the school had heard it, but we passed it off as a "backfire from a garden tiller engine we were trying to get started after overhauling it."
Today the courts would be clogged with lawsuits over such an occurrence. At said coach's funeral a couple of years ago, anybody in attendance who witnessed the cannon firing recalled the incident and all present said, "Hell, I never even told my wife about that shit. He could have been in some serious trouble." Fortunately, the blue/black pockmarks from the still-burning black powder particles that forcefully penetrated their arm and facial skin had faded over the years and were unnoticeable. One of them said, "I told my parents it was from somebody joking around and stabbing me with a lead pencil."
Ah, the good old days when safety was something you thought about after something bad happened..........Looking back on life, it's amazing I'm still intact and, for the most part, functional........