Did I miss something? This was supposed to be the scariest movie of the summer of '99. As far as I can see, it's more like MST3K fodder.
For those just arrived from Saturn, The Blair Witch Project is an indie film project that made tsunamis at Sundance and got scarfed up by Artisan for national release. Thanks to a wily Internet campaign, it became a major hit in short order. Reliable reviewers tagged it with all the best horror-movie adjectives: terrifying, horrific, scariest.
Compared to what -- Fantasia? The only thing I can figure is that the people who found this film "terrifying" must have had parents who wouldn't let them watch real horror movies.
Briefly, for the Saturnians, Blair Witch is about a trio of college students who set out to tape footage on a rural Maryland legend for a homework assignment. They get lost in the woods (partly because one of them grumpily kicks their plat map into the creek), experience allegedly supernatural visitations and, finally, vanish from the face of the earth. All of this is wrapped around the various phases of the Blair Witch legend, including a kiddie-killer named Rustin Parr executed in the 1940's.
A year after our less-than-intrepid filmmakers disappear, a duffle bag containing -- what a coincidence!-- video and DAT footage of their adventure is discovered buried in the foundation of an old house in the woods. The movie purports to have been devised from that footage.
Supposedly, those who saw this movie before they found out it was fiction were entirely taken in and believed it was for real. If those individuals would please email me immediately, I have some excellent Florida real estate I'd like to offer them. Now, The Curse of the Blair Witch, a "documentary" in the style of A&E's Investigative Reports purporting to trace the history of the movie -- that's realistic enough to fool people. The movie itself, however, is only likely to deceive those who would believe someone allegedly running in terror for her life would be filming the guy in front of her as sheran. Or, having discovered bloody body parts wrapped in a scrap of fabric from the shirt of one of her missing companions, would expose said body parts for a better shot all the while screaming in horror.
Come on, people, admit it. You heard how scary this thing was, so you plunked down your $7 and then didn't have the guts to admit you'd been had. This is one of the best con jobs ever worked on the public, second only to the publication of Thomas Harris's Hannibal; and writer/directors Dan Myrick and Ed Sanchez deserve every penny they made on it.
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