This is Part 1 of a two part review of The Blair Witch Project.
THE BLAIR WITCH
PROJECT IS BORING!!!
Or so say an army of
teens and early 20-somethings online these days. I don't blame them
for thinking that. Hell, I can imagine for folks like them, yes, it
is quite boring.
The style of THE
BLAIR WITCH PROJECT has become the style of PARANORMAL ACTIVITY. Both
films feature characters trapped in some sort of haunted house story
they cannot escape, spending their days dreading the nighttime
assaults from forces beyond their comprehension. But PARANORMAL
ACTIVITY only borrows from the artistic and stylistic platform
devised by Eduardo Sanchez and Daniel Myrick. It doesn't seek to
emulate it perfectly. So instead of quiet, you get jump scares.
Instead of characters actively trying to escape from their hell, you
have characters all but wallowing in it. And instead of the beating
heart of spontaneous film making, you have the cold and predictable
hand of structure-minded screenwriters guiding the whole thing along.
Much like the films
that came after HALLOWEEN, the films inspired by THE BLAIR WITCH
PROJECT seem to misunderstand just what it was that made the film so
powerful. They get caught up in the apparent ease of replicating the
films success. All you need is a man in a mask stalking teenagers,
right? All you need are a bunch of fresh-faced actors with a
camcorder, right? Well, no. You need more than that. Because the man
in the mask or the kid with the camcorder… that's just a single
element, not the whole. And truth be told, while the majesty of THE
BLAIR WITCH PROJECT is still largely intact, much of what made the
film so powerful back in 1999 wasn't just the images on the
celluloid.
IT WAS THE “EXPERIENCE”.
The internet was
only four years into its commercialization. It was, by then,
mainstream enough, but viral marketing was still a new and exciting
way to promote all kinds of products. Sanchez and Myrick took full
advantage of this new marketing scheme, creating a whole mythos
behind their little low budget horror film. When I first heard of THE
BLAIR WITCH PROJECT, it was in a blurb in Premiere Magazine. The film
had just played Sundance and was picked up for distribution by
Artisan. Though there were no details given as to what the film was
about, there was a website listed. Curious, I decided to check it out
and man, oh man, did I love what I found.
Here was an entire
back story, complete with snippets of urban legends, police reports,
“crime scene” photos… You felt like you were stumbling upon
some great mystery. I remember waiting 15 minutes (I do not miss
dial-up internet) just to watch some embedded QuickTime video about
the unsolved disappearance of three documentary filmmakers in the
Maryland woods. It was a fresh and fascinating way to market a movie.
Seeing the film on its opening night was like finally finding that
missing piece of a puzzle, even if the finale brought with it
suggestions of an even deeper mystery, one that would never be
solved. I was terrified by the film. I was convinced by the film. But
more than that, I was impressed with the film.
I have to wonder if
anyone else in the theater had the same experience I did. Truth be
told, seeing THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT without any knowledge of the
fictional back story is to only see half the film. Artisan clearly
knew this as a SciFi Channel special, The Curse of the Blair Witch, a
more traditional re-telling of the information contained on the
website, was aired shortly before release. All of this appealed to me
greatly. Here it was, the first true combination of visual media, the
traditional cinema presentation of a guerrilla-style film
complimented by the new media of the internet.
Around the same
time, another film was released called THE LAST BROADCAST. Stefan
Avalos and Lance Weiler's faux documentary about the deaths of a
handful of amateur documentarians bears a striking surface
resemblance to THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT. Both are about college-age
filmmakers exploring urban legends (in the case of THE LAST
BROADCAST, the Jersey Devil), both were low budget efforts, both took
advantage of new media. These days, the two films are linked together
because of these coincidences, but they're completely different
experiences in both construction and execution. THE LAST BROADCAST is
every inch the mockumentary and is saddled with a fourth wall
breaking ending that saps most of the strength out of the film.
It's a film about a
mystery, rather than part of a mystery. It offers a concrete
solution, rather than merely ending without comforting closure. It's
a good film, but not nearly as great as its counterpart and I think
the main reason for that comes down to that one crucial element that
really made THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT so damn brilliant.
THE FOUND FOOTAGE
ANGLE.
Believe it or not,
this was considered fresh and new back in 1999. Far from the first
movie to utilize it (CANNIBAL HOLOCAUST and MAN BITES DOG both spring
to mind), the presentation of the material struck a cord with
moviegoers. Today, it seems so cheap and gimmicky, but when
used correctly, the found footage format can add two incredibly
important elements to a film: authenticity and immediacy.
CLOVERFIELD is many
things. Authentic is not one of them. Found footage was used solely
to provide a sense of immediacy. I don't care how preoccupied you
are, you WILL notice a couple tanks and four dozen soldiers coming up
the street behind you. The characters in CLOVERFIELD do not, only
reacting when a monster's foot plops down in front of them and the
battalion behind them opens fire. Matt Reeves didn't care about
authenticity (if he did, we wouldn't have a great film marred by a
scene like Hud not noticing the gigantic monster standing behind him
after the helicopter crash). He cared about immediacy.
Sanchez and Myrick
cared very much about authenticity in their film. The entire
production was built around aiding the creation of that authentic
atmosphere. Actors were not given a script, only confidential notes
dictating speaking points, a general attitude and one or two hidden
motivations. The actors were guided from point A to point B via GPS
instructions, were not allowed to break character if a camera was on
and were required to improvise all dialogue. They really were toyed
around with at night and to accentuate their performances, as the
grueling eight day shoot went on, their provisions were reduced to
little more than an apple, some water and a protein bar.
This is that beating
heart of spontaneous film making I spoke about earlier. The
characters here don't have arcs, they have breakdowns. As the film
progresses, they switch from being antagonistic to pragmatic and then
back again. They bicker and argue. For some people, the characters
are the big turn-off here, largely because they're not really “movie
characters”. Heather, Josh and Mike are not traditional audience surrogates.
We too are annoyed by Mike's rashness, Josh's constant badgering and
Heather's foolishness. If you find yourself getting annoyed by their
endless bitching and walking in circles, congratulations. The film is
working as intended.
The found footage
angle works so well in THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT precisely because it
creates both a genuine sense of immediacy AND a genuine sense of
authenticity. We're trapped with these people and their attitudes
grate on us the same way they grate on one another. We want out of
these woods. We share the frustration and the exhaustion. We fear the
oncoming night as much as they do. We're not apart from the group. Rather, we're a part of the group. In a sense, the camera isn't just
some object filming all this stuff. It's us.
WE ARE THE CAMERA.
Overcoming the
underlying gimmick of the found footage movie is a tricky feat. “Why
don't they just stop filming?" is a question that comes up time and
time again with these movies, even though the internet shows us that
people will NEVER stop filming, no matter how grim the circumstances.
People walked through the streets on Bastille Day with their cell
phones, stopping to document the wreckage of each human body they came across. People
stood still and filmed as terrified victims jumped from the Twin
Towers. We don't turn the cameras off when shit hits the fan. We turn
them on.
Stan Brakhage once remarked that if it were not
for his camera, he would have not been able to continue filming the
autopsy footage that comprises the entirety of his documentary, THE
ACT OF SEEING WITH ONE'S OWN EYES. The camera as an abstraction
device is given weight throughout THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT. Josh
refers to it as a “filtered reality” and concludes that by using
the camera so heavily throughout their experience, Heather is seeking
to somehow escape the hell of their circumstances. This is somewhat
analogous to how war photographers often describe their experiences.
They're not photographing dead bodies torn apart by shrapnel or
bullets. They're just photographing collateral damage.
But we are not
capable of abstraction. As viewers, the “filtered reality” of the
characters is our actual reality. The central concept of the film,
that what we are watching is the found footage of people who are
missing, presumed dead, re-frames the experience from a simple horror
film to something worse. We're standing in that morgue alongside
Brakhage. What we're watching is an autopsy.
Coming up soon: a
complete (or close enough) deconstruction of the film.
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