In a near decade-long, industry-wide edict of IP-driven filmmaking, where branding and synergistic endeavors based off decades-old stories are exploited for high payoff with little to no consideration given to individual artistic expression and innovation, horror has, curiously, remained a steadfast advocate for the new and the unusual.
Sure, budgets of horror films have dipped significantly; thanks in part to the success of the Blumhouse model of moviemaking. However, with the limitations of budget, it’s arguable to conclude that some of the most interesting horror cinema in decades has been created. Starting with Paranormal Activity and moving into Sinister, The Conjuring, even something as recent as Lights Out, studio horror has shown a significant lack of resting on laurels. And that’s not even counting the independent side of the coin; where The Witch, The Babadook, and It Follows took over the festival circuit and validated to some moviegoers what we horror fans have known for a long time: that the horror film is as versatile and effective a storytelling tool as any.
Two such independent filmmakers of note are Adam Wingard and Simon Barrett, the filmmaking duo behind You’re Next and The Guest. What’s curious about both these films, and why they are interesting to me as a moviegoer, is that they are subversively self-referential. Not in a winking at the camera sense. But in a contextual one. The characters in these stories do not know they are in a movie. But the filmmakers never pretend that they are not making genre films, and with that acknowledgment comes a subtle air of self-awareness which permeates every frame of their films, like invisible ink on a treasure map only understood by those who know what to look for.
While the real world interconnects through social media, these guys found a way to speak to their audience through cinema itself. Through shot selection and character motivations, referencing past tropes and archetypes while also making fun of and subverting them, Wingard and Barrett are able to craft new stories with modern sensibilities while also commenting on what horror films are and could be in a very post-modernist deconstruction of bloody good art.
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You’re Next is perfect example of what I’m talking about. A film that starts off as a talky slasher movie morphs into a exploitation film, almost even a comedy; it’s a movie about slasher movies while still operating as its own entity, not unlike Adam Green’s Hatchet five years before. Now, whether these nuances were intentional or not, I honestly can’t say. But their effect is unique, creating an intimacy from filmmaker to audience, a whispered understanding between co-conspirators. This subversive, understated deftness of narrative is a voice without clear comparison, an uncommon property specific of Wingard and Barrett.
So, when it was announced that the pair would be collaborating again on a horror project called The Woods, I was genuinely curious as to what that would entail. Then the first trailer came out, scored against a haunting cover of “Every Breath You Take,” and I was hooked. The tone looked grimy, filthy, like sewage wedged between your fingernails. The film, as presented, was unlike anything I had ever seen them take on before, like The Blair Witch Project on steroids. I believed that this would be their subversive commentary on the found footage genre, their opportunity to take on what we “think” we know about films like The Blair Witch Project and flip them on their head. I saw something fresh and violent, ballsy and unrelenting. In short, I was very, very excited to visit The Woods.
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And then came San Diego Comic-Con.
I’m sure Lionsgate had a calculated reason why they decided to bait and switch the audience, most likely because any announcement of a Blair Witch Project sequel would be immediately met with understandable skepticism and derision. So in an admirably unconventional ploy, they marketed the film as its own beast, an independent story called The Woods; stoking the fires of the fanbase so much that when they ultimately revealed their deception and unmasked the film for what it really was, a Blair Witch sequel, the studio hoped the fans would be even more on board for the ride. But here’s the problem that I’m not quite sure they anticipated. What if the fanbase was excited for something new? Something fresh and unique. Something in keeping with the Wingard/Barrett filmography. Something exactly like how The Woods was marketed. Only to be disappointed, and perhaps feel a bit blindsided, by the reality of the film’s IP-driven parentage.
To me this shows a distinct lack of understanding how the horror fanbase really works, especially in 2016. There was a time when the “icons” were king. Freddy. Jason. Michael. Even Jigsaw. These guys ruled our hearts and minds. Sure, there was gnarly independent stuff coming out, but we liked our horror with a dollop of familiarity. And then the remake craze took over, and we became overly satiated, our moviegoing experience flooded by the sameness of brands and properties instead of insane, terrifying, originality.
So we grew out of that phase of fandom into what I would consider a more artistically-inclined maturity. Sure, a remake now and again is not unwelcome. Evil Dead was an interesting departure from the source material, but does anybody consider it a classic? It’s a riff on something already existing. A cover song at best. And even the best cover, respectfully, can never be as satisfying as the original. There’s a reason we still talk about The Conjuring or It Follows or The Guest. They spoke to something that had never been spoken of before. They didn’t break any collective understanding of what horror movies were; in a lot of ways they were comments on the genre in general. But it was that hint of flavor, of originality, of stories feeling fresh if not a bit familiar that made them stand apart and above.
In the most recent Blair Witch trailer (as of this writing), the harshness of imagery, of tree branches being yanked from bloody wounds, of a girl screaming in pain and fear as she’s wedged into a mud-drenched hellhole, are all cross-cut with things that I’ve seen before: stickpeople hanging from trees, muddy handprints on a wall, people standing in the corner of a dilapidated room, someone telling the camera that they are are “sorry.” These moments should have sparked something referential within me, something that excited my curiosity or at least my nostalgia. But instead, all I felt was a sinking dip in my stomach, like when you go down a small hill on a roller coaster. I was left feeling a bit empty about the whole affair. What I had believed would be something new and innovative was instead a riff, a cover of a song that I’ve heard before; and what sucks is in a world of infinite stories and limited time, there’s a part of me that wonders if Blair Witch is worth mine.
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I love the The Blair Witch Project; I discovered it years after its release, after any illusion of it being a true story had long since dissipated, and found it profoundly affecting. What that movie did was shotgun horror into the real world. It narrowed the barrier between fiction and reality; it made us question what was just outside of our field of vision, around the corner or behind that tree. It’s a film about human horror. About what’s not seen; and I’m not talking about the Blair Witch herself. It’s about three people slowly losing their minds, how panic and exhaustion clouds our humanity and makes us question everything we think we know. It is a uniquely flawed piece of American filmmaking, a comment on who and what we are at the end of the 20th century. Not unlike a film that Wingard and Barrett might make today. Not unlike what I hoped The Woods would ultimately be.
I don’t blame them for making a Blair Witch sequel. And by many accounts, including that of our own Uncle Creepy himself, it’s a kick-ass time at the movies. But as for me, I’ll sit tight for when Wingard and Barrett resume their subversive ways, hopefully with their follow-up effort, Death Note, which in fairness is based off a much less famous piece of IP.
I can’t wait for them to take what already exists and flip it. To change it. Mold it and shape cinema into their own image. To create new stories, new mythologies, new monsters, and new reasons for us to be scared to be alone in the woods. In essence, to do what they do best. And I don’t need some old movie I know or a brand name I recognize to sell me on that. Just give me a good story, take me somewhere I’ve never been before. Do that, and I’ll always be right there, popcorn in hand, ready and willing to take a ride on the dark side.
Because I’m a horror fan. And that’s what we do.
Blair Witch opens in theaters nationwide tomorrow, September 16th.
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The post Why I Was More Excited for The Woods than a New Blair Witch appeared first on Dread Central.
We’re pleased to welcome artist Kevin D. Clark, who is bringing his unique brand of cartoon humor to us here at Dread Central. Read on for the latest in horror-themed chuckles.
I was at a horror convention in the early 2000s when someone recommended Island of Death as a prime example of exploitation cinema. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard about it, and it sounded right up my alley. I bought an import DVD off the table in question and couldn’t wait to get home and watch it. When I got around to it, I wasn’t remotely disappointed. It was sick without reveling in excess, done with a wink and a nudge. To this day, it’s a go-to favorite when somebody tells me they want to venture into the deep end of sleazy cinema without taking off their water wings.
I’m not sure Mastorakis is all that concerned with generating scares. He seems more concerned with keeping things moving at a good clip. In that sense, The Zero Boys is a lot of fun. If that’s what you’re after, it’s a good time.
Starring Kaley Ball, Cheryl Abernathy, Arian Thigpen
