#9 The Blair Witch Project
The Blair Witch taps into humans’ extraordinarily instinctive fear of the unknown. It harnesses that fear by ignoring theatrical technological advancements of the late 90s and exploits that fear by never telling us anything. This lack of information prevents the viewer from formulating any sort of rational conclusion, all the while equipping viewers’ imagination with the tools to continuously try to predict what happens next.
You’re on the edge of your seat the entire time, constantly trying to internally justify being terrified at the fact that nothing is happening. Until all of a sudden, it happens, and your skin crawls until you can rationalize what you just witnessed.
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When Heather Donahue read an ad in the Back Stage theater tabloid in 1997 that called for a “knack for improvisation and the ability to work under difficult conditions,” she had only one thought, “sign me up”.
A few days later, she made her way up the stairs to the audition, immediately greeted with a call sheet that said:
“You are about to read for the most demanding and unpleasant project of your career. If you are cast, we are going to drag you into the woods for seven days of hell. 168 hours of real-time improvisational torment. We’re not kidding. If you’re not serious about your craft, then you’re wasting your time and ours.”
I saw The Blair Witch Project when I was 11. Probably too young. I was at a sleepover for the weekend, and my two friends immediately asked me if I had seen the film. I, of course, said yes because I was 11 and didn’t want to be a loser. I, of course, hadn’t seen the movie, so I was in quite the predicament when my friend Josh said, “let’s watch it again and then walk to the barn.”
By the way, it is crucial to the story to know that “the barn” was about 500 meters in the woods behind my friend Josh’s house.
The film opens with a message, “In October of 1994, three student filmmakers disappeared in the woods near Burkittsville, Maryland while shooting a documentary. A year later, their footage was found.”
After multiple interviews and subsequent warnings about the woods in which they were set to embark, the crew starts its journey. For 11-year-old Jay, no cause for alarm at this point.
The film moves at an unbelievably rapid pace. Within ten minutes of on-screen time, the team goes from complete camaraderie to agitated and lost. As the tension increased, so too did my awareness of the mistake I had made. At minute 25, the team approaches five piles of rocks, a warning they had received from an interviewee, Mary, who also happens to be the creepiest character I’ve ever seen, and of course knocks over one of the piles. At this point, even as an 11-year-old, I knew I had made a terrible decision.
What made The Blair Witch so mind-bendingly terrifying was the fact that everyone thought it was real. I absolutely, 100%, thought the footage I was watching actually happened, and that’s exactly the experience the filmmakers wanted to create.
The main criteria in casting the three-person film team was their ability to improvise, but they did not set off into the woods of Burkittsville without a plan. The actors were provided with a 35-page director’s outline – “a script without dialogue, full of situations,” says Eduardo Sanchez, one of the two directors. Additional notes were provided throughout the shoot, but overall, they were on their own. They were equipped with a 16mm film camera, a DAT machine, and a $500 Sony Hi8 camcorder, which would be returned to Circuit City as soon as shooting was completed. R.I.P. Circuit City.
The promised torment of the actors began almost immediately. The production team would shake the tent of the actors, blast the sound of talking children, or hang up stick men on trees nearby the campsite. As a result of the psychological torture, hesitations on the part of the crew quickly set in. However, the crew had been warned prior to filming, “if you ever come out of the woods, it’s over”.
Just over halfway through the film, the pace is kicked into overdrive. Following a midnight run through the woods, the crew begins to turn on each other. The inevitability of their outcome starts to set in. 11-year-old Jay is not in a good place.
There are a few decade-defining sequences that completely encapsulate the 90s as an era of film, and Heather’s camera-facing, snot-filled monologue is one of them. Her realization of her circumstances is bone-chilling and haunting and genre-altering. Then, shortly following her frightening confessional, the movie just ends. The perfect ending. Unless you’re an 11-year-old.
I kept my cool, for the most part, until we made it to “the barn”. What I was not aware of, and what was to be my most shocking experience that night, was that my now ex-friend Josh’s dad was waiting for us. It took one ominous moan and I was out. I’m not sure what the 500-meter sprint record is, but I had to be close.
The film would premiere at Sundance in 1999. The strategy, keep everyone as clueless as possible. There were no pre-festival screenings for the press, and only one photograph was provided for magazines across the country, half of Heather’s illuminated face. Publicist Jeremy Walker said, “it was all purposely underplayed”.
The film was set to take up the midnight slot. Expectations were nonexistent given the tone of that year’s slate of films and the notion that no sane person would stand in line for a scary movie at midnight. On the 23rd of January, 1999, hundreds of movie fans were squeezed into the alleyway alongside Park City’s Egyptian Theatre. “We weren’t anticipating that kind of enthusiasm,” recalled Daniel Myrick, the other half of the Haxan filmmaking team, “it was such a Hollywood moment.”
The Blair Witch Project pays homage to its genre predecessors of the 70s and 80s. It hyper focuses on the unknown. It borrows the notion from films like Jaws, that, in fact, the scariest things are those not seen. It also incorporates the sporadic filming style made popular by 90s reality television. Unjustified edits, nonexistent framing, and a reliance on the natural elements help drive the belief of the amateurism at the core of the film’s identity.
The reception for the film was overwhelmingly average. There were a few production companies interested, but a few turned to one around 3:00 AM. Artisan would purchase The Blair Witch Project for $1.1 million.
The Blair Witch Project’s marketing strategy was simple: uncertainty and curiosity. Rumors were spread about “student filmmakers” getting lost, missing person materials were distributed, and fake news articles were written. Their website, with its homemade appearance, described the Blair Witch myth in detail and highlighted the missing filmmakers, sparking intrigue.
The campaign capitalized on early internet usage by continuously adding content to the website. Marketers infiltrated online forums and chat rooms, posing as regular users to create buzz and confusion. They also manipulated IMDb records to list actors as missing and presumed dead.
The film’s trailer was deliberately simple, not shown in mainstream media, encouraging viewers to share their discovery. A documentary partnership with the Sci-Fi channel added authenticity, And the film label, Artisan, avoided traditional advertising, showing teasers in niche settings with the Blair Witch website address.
All in all, the film cost $60,000 to make. It would ultimately gross $250 million worldwide.
I have never forgiven my friend Josh. I hope he is doing well.
Ranking System
I rank all of my movies out of 5 🐘, because I love movies and I love elephants.
