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The frightened-out-of-their-mind group reminds of a frustrated and dumbfounded Lou Costello, unable to talk and wild with gesture, trying to convince a nonchalant Abbott that the monster lurks right behind him; but each time Bud turns around, the terror is nowhere to be seen.
Maybe the phenomenon actually proves the divisive power of the Blair Witch, transported from her original haunting grounds in the woods near Blair, Maryland (now Burkittesville), where she began her sorcery around 1785, and now successfully causing bitter enmity amongst filmgoers. Certainly the battle lines are drawn. Like Democrats and Republicans, each camp is entirely convinced of the other's lunacy and equally sure of its own rectitude. Where both contingents must agree, however, is that the scare quotient of The Blair Witch Project is based on a complete falsehood, implicit in a phoney prologue that reads thusly: "In October of 1994, three student filmmakers disappeared in the woods near Burkittesville, Maryland, while shooting a documentary. One year later, their footage was found." Of course, this is all poppycock.
Hence, while the controversial effort from independent filmmakers Daniel Myrick and Eduardo Sanchez is hardly the most bloodcurdling film in two decades, its surprising success as a cinematic sham is actually a much more profound accomplishment.
Depending on its audience to actually believe that what they are witnessing is the recovered 16mm film (and video tape) of a documentary project gone terrifyingly awry, The Blair Witch Project is the best horror hoax since Orson Welles' War Of The Worlds (the 1938 radio broadcast that created a virtual panic among Earthlings who believed they were under attack from Mars). Coined a mockumentary, this ersatz recounting reportedly cost its enterprising creators $61,000, was purchased by Artisan Entertainment for $1 million following its showing at the Sundance Festival, and harvested (or is it inculcated?) a ready audience of anxious-to-cult viewers via a luring website and sneak previews across college campuses. Other media tie-ins abound.
Knowing all this but unwilling to suspend that much disbelief for the sake of a bone-rattling thrill, one becomes painfully aware of the amateurish yet cannily deceptive process that Messrs. Myrick and Sanchez employ to weave their counterfeit horror.
Keeping their own names as part and parcel of the cinema verite aura being emulated, the bogus film students in pursuit of their very own Yeti are played by Heather Donahue, the control freak die-hard, Joshua Leonard as the easygoing accomplice, and Michael Williams as the sceptic. As they prepare for their trip into a spooky forest that will ultimately refuse to relinquish them, the three banter and chide with the realistic vernacular and concerns of twenty-somethings. Before the intrepid troika descends into the woods, they interview fake locals about the legend, helping foster a patina of authenticity.
The trio does a bang-up ensemble job, both in the carefree early going as well as later, when things start going bump in the night and joking seamlessly transposes to bickering. Awaking each morning to see ominous symbols menacingly woven in tree branches and piled on the ground, their youthful sang-froid convincingly turns to panic. Each of the phoney baloney filmmakers earns a shot at another film, especially the splendidly emotive Miss Donahue.
The mood grows dank and dreary as the faux documentarians go deeper and deeper into the forest, maybe finding the witch (and maybe not), but getting hopelessly lost in the bargain. Folks who still have unresolved issues emanating from Little Red Riding Hood's travail in the wilds may be forced to revisit old wounds. But while even the most unreceptive of reviewers will at this point acknowledge that a new set of dry socks might feel comfortable, the self-conscious, jarring motion of the hand-held cameras gets to be a bit too precious, and much more annoying than the threat of any heinous hag. And if she does appear, not to worry. Just show the old bat a few minutes of this affectedly unsteady tripe and she's bound to come down with a debilitating case of seasickness. Twenty minutes into the proceedings, you feel like one of those head-bobbing, baseball player dolls that people display in the back windows of their cars.
Perpetrating this savvy fraud, making it appear that their movie is the salvaged work of amateurs, Myrick and Sanchez display only a smattering of artistry, except in the editing room where they fashion their magnus opus knockoff. But they evince plenty of chutzpah and a willing talent for deception; following the remarkable success of their cinema charade, these are just the sort of qualities that doubtless will prove invaluable when the Hollywood big leagues beckon. And they will beckon.
The question is, do this week's poster boys for indie filmmaking have anything left up their delusory sleeve following this well-calculated sneak attack on unsuspecting audiences?
The The Blair Witch Project has been hailed by jaded fright night aficionados more for its bargain basement novelty than for any real contribution to the genre. Yet there's no denying the marvel, regardless of how tactically the film has been marketed. Grown-ups and teens alike are making the conscious decision to forget that It's Only A Movie.
Exercising a reverse snobbery, supporters of the film exult in its bare-bones approach to horror, trading on the smug conceit that its low-budget purity requires viewers to use their imaginations (Gosh, how lofty. What's next? Radio? Books? Poetry? Y'know, The Raven really makes you use the old grey matter). There is no music, eerie, thumping or otherwise (though a "soundtrack" album somehow inspired by the movie is due out soon), and there's neither a screeching cat nor a suddenly snapped window shade.
Naturally, you want this to work. The romantic notion of a $61,000 movie succeeding in a motion picture business where it takes at least $20 million just to hire the lead actor makes rooting for this creepy underdog irresistible. However, there's a bottom line when it comes to horror films: Is it scary? And the only really frightening thing about The Blair Witch Project is the number of disciples it has indoctrinated.
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