Rating
-
Horror
(US); 1997; Not Rated; 86 Minutes
Cast
David Beard: David Leigh
Jim Seward: Jim Suerd
Stefan Avalos: Steven Avkast
Lance Weiler: Locus Wheeler
Rein Clabbers: Rein Clackin
Produced, directed and screenwritten by Stefan Avalos
and Lance Weiler
Review Uploaded
6/23/00 |
Written
by DAVID KEYES In
order to get novel but low-key movies noticed, it’s essential
for someone to bring the idea into the mainstream. Such
is the scenario which brought us the sleeper hit “The Blair
Witch Project” last year, the low budget, unconventional
thriller that documented the descent of three filmmakers
into Maryland woods who were in search of a legend, but
found something more terrifying than anyone could have imagined.
Like so many new ideas, the “mockumentary” approach of the
film has generated massive interest in moviegoers, who have
sifted through countless formulaic horror movies in the
recent past while in search of successful thrills. Inevitable,
it seems, that two sequels to the Blair Witch saga are in
the works, along with various clones.
Needless
to say, “The Blair Witch Project” is not the first motion
picture to use this approach. Nor is it the second. In fact,
there are likely over a dozen films in existence with this
same technique; unfortunately, finding them is more difficult
a job than most would suspect. In brief pursuits, however,
one film that usually emerges as proof of early use of this
idea is a picture called “The Last Broadcast,” which, intriguingly,
was made only back in 1997 and played briefly in theaters
in fall of that year. But whereas “The Blair Witch Project”
mastered a fresh technique, “The Last Broadcast” is more
of an experiment with new material: sometimes it succeeds,
sometimes it doesn’t.
There’s
a hint of irony behind both products. At the time “The Blair
Witch Project” went into production, the filmmakers were
not aware of any existing film called “The Last Broadcast,”
suspecting that their idea was completely unique. And yet
both movies share eerie similarities: they document fateful
journeys, they take place in the woods, and they leave viewers
paralyzed by unanswered questions, among other things. Is
this all coincidental? “As they say in ‘Fact or Fiction?’,
you decide.”
The
story deals with many familiar desires and fates of “Blair
Witch.” In an act of desperation to save their ill-fated
public access show “Fact Or Fiction?”, hosts Steven Avkast
and Locus Wheeler turn to the public for suggestions of
show topics. One day, over IRC chat, a message delivered
in an eerie voice runs across the screen—“Why don’t you
do a show about the Jersey Devil?” Being the amateurish
filmmakers that they are, Steven and Locus are intrigued
by this idea, and put it into motion by acquiring two individuals
who could go into the remote New Jersey Pine Barrens to
help them in their quest to uncover the grizzly secrets
hidden there. The live broadcast would simultaneously be
seen on the Internet, cable, and ham radio.
But
what exactly are they searching for? The Jersey Devil is
a creature foretold of in bedtime stories, the thirteenth
child born into a household hundreds of years ago, mutated
by the words of its mother—“let this be a devil.” It grew
into a full-sized being only moments after birth, killed
and devoured the residents, snuck up into the chimney and
disappeared into the wilderness. Future residents nearby
claimed to have seen this creature still in existence. The
movie, however, boasts no explanation of these occurrences;
the journey into the woods seems so pointless that we feel
Steven and Locus are merely doing this investigation to
garner ratings for their one-joke cable show. No, not even
the two followers—Rein Clackin, a sound supervisor who can
“record frequencies from other worlds,” and Jim Suerd, a
self-proclaimed psychic who can lead the filmmakers to the
best spot in the woods to uncover their secrets—seem to
have any knowledge of what the Jersey Devil is.
Not
that it matters, at least for three of the four men. On
the morning of December 16, 1995, a call is dispatched to
police headquarters from a phone in the vicinity of the
Pine Barrens by Jim Suerd, who states that the three he
arrived with are nowhere to be found (“I have a bad feeling
about all of this,” he proclaims). Steven Avkast, Locus
Wheeler and Rein Clackin are classified as missing persons
24 hours later. Then, on December 19, officials find two
bodies only miles away from the campsite of the filmmakers.
The bodies are of Locus and Rein; Steven’s is nowhere to
be found, but large deposits of blood draw the conclusion
that he, like his fellow crew members, was killed as well.
The
state of Pennsylvania mounts a massive case against Jim
Suerd for these gory, ritualistic homicides; being the only
person aware of their location, he is therefore the prime
suspect (although he proclaims his innocence continuously).
Prosecution in the case uses the very footage shot by the
deceased to discredit Suerd’s image, and though the tapes
are somewhat circumstantial and contain no actual footage
of the murders occurring, they portray him as a manipulative,
eccentric man with violent tendencies, definitely capable
of murder. In less than an hour-and-a-half, a jury finds
him guilty and sentences him to two consecutive life terms.
The
movie itself does not present this trip in the straightforward
manner that “The Blair Witch Project” did, but rather, targets
the investigations and theories preceding the murders. At
the center is filmmaker David Leigh, who weighs in on the
situation from several perspectives, captures interviews
with those involved in these men’s lives, and provides the
viewer with footage that could unleash arguments for both
sides. A climactic moment bursts from nowhere when, in the
middle of his investigation, Leigh is delivered a package
containing lost video footage from that fateful night in
the woods. Further adding to the tension is the unexplained
death of Jim Suerd in jail, which occurs only four days
after this package arrives. These circumstances easily the
shift the focus, as the footage, reconstructed by a specialist,
promises all sorts of new possibilities. What happened that
night in the woods? And was Jim really capable of that kind
of malevolent conduct?
First-time
filmmakers Stefan Avalos and Lance Weiler, who portray the
two doomed cable show hosts, successfully pierced the fabric
of mockumentary thrillers with this endeavor, and made a
picture soaked in elaborate detail. Unfortunately certain
areas of the film lack the necessary insight, and others
fail to live up to their potential. Why, for instance, does
the film not discuss the Jersey Devil when it is the source
of inspiration for Steven and Locus’ trip into the Pine
Barrens? Surely the legend fits in somewhere to the killings,
as one did in “The Blair Witch Project.” Adding to the list
of quibbles is the film’s resolution, which, of course,
attempts to resolve the mystery behind the Pine Barren murders,
but winds up leaving more questions on our minds than what
we start with. To this effect, “The Last Broadcast” is the
kind of film in which tension mounts, but our anticipation
for an effective conclusion is more frightening than the
actual climax.
Given
its unavoidable faults, though, this is still a solid film:
well organized, thought-provoking, and in ways, as creepy
as its successor. “The Blair Witch Project” is still a far
superior film than “The Last Broadcast,” but that doesn’t
mean the latter should be completely ignored. Viewers who
bathe in this new technique of filmmaking should at least
enjoy this picture for its efforts, even if some are unsuccessful.
©
2000,
David Keyes, Cinemaphile.org.
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