By Cynthia W. Gentry, © 2000 by Cynthia W. Gentry, published on Dailygossip.com, January 2000; www.dailygossip.com.
Darlings, imagine my surprise when I heard the news that Artisan Entertainment and the filmmakers behind the “The Blair Witch Project” are planning not only a prequel, but a sequel to their runaway summer hit. There was a time when this would have made me happy. That time would have come before I saw the movie.
Like many of you, I at first reveled in the behind-the-scenes story of this film. Imagine! Scrappy slackers make the summer’s sleeper hit for $35,000! The most profitable movie ever made, without stars or special effects! “This proves that what audiences really want is a good story!” I crowed to anyone who would listen. And though I must say I’m no fan of horror movies, I looked forward to having my J. Crew jeans scared right off me.
In fact, something scary did happen to me while I watched “Blair Witch.” About halfway through the movie, my left arm began rising from my lap and my wrist began rotating counterclockwise. What’s going on? Am I possessed? I wondered. Then I realized that I was experiencing something that should strike fear into the heart of any filmmaker: the CynthiaG Cinematic Kiss of Death. Yes, darlings, I wanted to look at my watch.
Let me be the first to say it: “The Blair Witch Project” is BORING with a big fat, hairy, capital B. Why anyone would want to sit through four more hours—much less more 20 seconds—of hearing the phrase “What the f**k is that?” is beyond me. I’ve seen videos designed for cats (think mice scampering back and forth across the screen) that are more interesting.
Because this movie is essentially an hour and a half of a watching a pain-in-the-ass (that would be Heather Donahue) dragging two poor guys around the forest. They argue. They scream at each other. They lose their car. She makes them carry the heavy stuff. So far, just an average day at Stanford Shopping Center for me.
If you want a good scare, save your $7.75 (or your $3 rental fee) and invest it in the next Internet IPO, or listen to Pat Buchanan describe himself as the “people’s” candidate. Other than a really creepy final shot that is hardly worth the covers of two major news magazines—not to mention a prequel and a sequel, “Blair Witch” is frightening only when you realize that you’ve been suckered into paying money to be annoyed.
Let’s put it this way: if Artisan makes this sequel thing work: I’ve got my own to sell you: 120 minutes of silverware scraping on that Calvin Klein dinnerware (think nails on a blackboard).
So if and when the followup to “Blair Witch” rolls around, count me out. If you want to see a stellar performance, watch the tapes of yours truly pretending to act interested while my ex-boyfriend (a.k.a. Beelzebub) explains macroeconomics. When it comes to mixing terror with boredom, darlings, nothing quite compares.