Article: Disaster Artistry - The Blair Witch Project

 

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.

The Blair Witch Project was once the highest-grossing film picked up at a film festival. Twenty-seven years later, the record was surpassed by shock hit Obsession. Curry Barker's breakthrough feature arrives at a moment when cinema's future is being mulled over by muttering cinephiles and film buffs. The fragmented state of modern media has posed heavy questions about cinema-going, and Obsession’s popularity has suggested that the kids are all right. Audiences still enjoy munching on popcorn in a darkened auditorium and glaring at the silver screen. But by outgrossing The Blair Witch Project, it feels like a baton is being passed. 

Movie hype has been with us since The Arrival of a Train, but Blair Witch’s marketing campaign defined movie promotion for years to come. In some ways, it set a precedent. Hollywood only came around to the idea that the worldwide interweb could sell movies after The Blair Witch website showed them the way. Before we knew the name and tools, The Blair Witch and its early internet space, rich with the film’s fictional mythology, created what we now know as virality. Reading the multitude of fan theories and extended lore of Obsession that litter social media only highlights the foundations built by The Blair Witch Project and its multimedia assault.

The tagline is perhaps the most succinct way to describe the film’s story. But to elaborate, Heather Donahue, Josh Leonard and Mike Williams head to the Maryland backwoods near Burkittsville to film a documentary about the notorious Blair Witch. They wander around the town and film some pithy interviews with some of the colourful characters before heading into the woods to film the rest of the documentary. Things go awry when the trio lose their bearings in the woods and find themselves stalked by an unseen presence. The collected footage was allegedly found, assembled chronologically and presented to the viewer as the last documented footage of the filmmakers.

The Blair Witch Project is not the first found-footage film. Cannibal Holocaust (1980) is noted as the forefather of the genre. However, it was banned in countries like the UK, and notoriety kept it in stasis. From a release perspective, The Last Broadcast (1998) pipped The Blair Witch to the post by a few months. Yet it remained a lesser-seen curiosity of video stores as the marketing hype attained elsewhere eclipsed anything that feature could provide. These earlier movies never marked the genre aesthetic the way Daniel Myrick and Eduardo Sánchez's film managed. No matter the genre, every Found Footage film from Cloverfield (2008) to Project X (2012) to Project Almanac (2015) seems to look to The Blair Witch Project as the main source. Notable successes like Paranormal Activity (2007) and Rec (2007) not only became popular franchises in their own right but also pushed the bar in what the genre could do. Yet as more of these films came about, the mechanics behind them became more “produced”. These later projects are entertaining (I absolutely adore Cloverfield), but all share a taste of the theatrical that affects the immersion The Blair Witch Project provides.

The seeming lack of artifice found in The Blair Witch Project, along with its unique placement in time, still makes the film stand out today. Directors Daniel Myrick and Eduardo Sánchez took a distinctive guerrilla approach to filmmaking to get what they wanted for the production. The duo asked their trio of actors to improvise their performances through messages left for them each day. The two camps communicated via walkie-talkie while the actors filmed their footage each day. During the day, the actors were deprived of food.  At night, the filmmakers would unnerve the actors by disturbing them in their sleep. The combination of elements resulted in the cast becoming disoriented, distressed, and more susceptible to the fictional nightmare forming around them.

The blend of vérité-style filmmaking and improvisational boot camp set The Blair Witch apart from its predecessors. This experimental blend of elements makes it the best example of a student film gone wrong. Praise was heaped on the film as a great showcase of creating maximum tension with minimal material at their disposal. But the film owes so much to its cast, who suffer the director's unconventional treatment to become the disparate trio of youths thrown together into a wooded existentialist hell. From the start, the three characters already hold an open hostility towards each other. Mike, the baby of the bunch, is only on board the project as a favour to Josh, in that typical student style. Heather’s upbeat assertiveness is misinterpreted and soon attacked for directorial hubris. Josh comes across as the cool kid who thinks he knows it all.   Perhaps the most horrific aspect of the film is that Blair Witch doesn’t need to be seen or perform any wild spectacle on her victims.  The group lose their way unusually. Perhaps supernaturally led astray by unseen forces. Yet the group's charged egos do little to help matters. The film becomes an update of Sartre’s No Exit. The Witch may be manipulating the woods, but the trio don’t help themselves. They wear themselves down, allowing their bodies to be mentally tenderised for an unseen presence. Remove the supernatural element, and this is an accurate takedown of an amateur film disintegration. The things that go bump in the night are unsettling, but the ease with which these three emotionally tear each other down becomes equally disconcerting.

The cast regretted using their real names for the film. Despite the film becoming a huge hit, none of the actors broke into Hollywood. Their filmographies are scant, with Josh Leonard being the most successful of the three. Heather Donoughe quit acting, changed her name, and became a weed seller. The film was presented to people as a true story, with the film's marketing going through the roof with the idea that all three were missing, presumed dead. The marketing campaign drew a vast amount of critical attention towards the cast, who were both praised and derided in equal measure, while the cast picked up Razzies for perceived bad acting. Yet what makes The Blair Witch Project stand out from its counterparts is the unique rawness that stems from the performances. Although you can mimic the aesthetic easily, most imitators never dream up the same cocktail of chemistry and improvisation the ensemble served. Its cast, handpicked for their ability to improvise, were asked to rely on their wits while the crew of the film quite literally fucked with them in the dead of night. This bizarre mixture of elements hasn't been replicated nearly as well by other films, except perhaps REC. Also, with the thrall of hype and marketing now further removed, the performances are even stronger, despite some of the narrative's bizarre features. Such aspects are best written off as witchy manipulation.

Rewatching The Blair Witch Project in 2026 can have viewers seeing Heather as the original Skyler White (Breaking Bad). Original reviews labelled Heather as an egotistical bitch, whose self-serving personality was leading these poor, harmless boys to certain doom. In fact, Heather, for her faults, was derided for trying to preserve order. It is both fascinating and saddening to see Heather as a prototype for modern female creators now. Watching Heather now reminded me of director Anna Biller detailing her troubles making The Love Witch (2016). In interviews, Biller details the deep scrutiny that her filmmaking decisions faced. I found Heather to be under similar scrutiny. Plot revelations expose the unwanted pressure she was under. Josh and Mike’s obnoxiousness contrast fiercely with Heather’s self-conscious need for influence. From the start, the boys snipe and needle her over little things. They rattle Heather's cage even when the shit really begins to hit the fan. The film points towards the future in one telling moment, when Josh, at the end of his tether, makes a pointed statement about Heather’s love of being behind the camera:

“It's not quite reality. It's like a totally filtered reality. It's like you can pretend everything's not quite the way it is.”

It’s a moment that triggers both Heather and us now that we live in a world consistently filtered through cameras and screens.

The films muddying the waters of reality didn’t help matters. People saw this fictionalised version of Heather as the real person. The relationship between actress and audience became parasocial. For me, the animosity Heather managed to create exposes just how potent her performance is. At one point, she is berated for her desire to keep shooting despite clearly being stalked by an unknown entity. She screams that this is all she has left. It’s a moment that hits home since the rise of incident as media content. Now all we do is document everything that happens to us. Heather's desire to keep documenting the supernatural events around her is now riffed on in found-footage films for now and beyond. Famously, the character Hud, played by TJ Miller in the sci-fi found-footage film Cloverfield, also notably highlights his need to keep filming. A film that would not exist without The Blair Witch Project. And Hud is a far more annoying character than Heather ever was. However, he got none of the hate.

Heather Donahue decision to quit acting and reinvent herself was an unfortunate fallout from the film's release. Finding a female horror performance as powerful as Heather's turn is tough. Is this hyperbole? Well yes. But the infamous apology, where the young wannabe filmmaker's wide-eyed, teary visage faces the camera while grimly accepting accountability for this tragic chain of events, has been one of horror’s most iconic images for a quarter of a century now. And for good reason. Think of The Blair Witch Project, think of that scene. All the imperfect components make the moment so distinctive. The awkward composition, dripping snot and quivering voice make the scene. Every time I watch that monologue, I’m completely immersed. In that moment, I believed her. I feared for her.

But I feared for all the characters. This is thanks to the publicity, which did a great job of creating concern. Now that the media shenanigans have subsided, I still love the rawness of the performances and how well Myrick and Sánchez crafted a one-of-a-kind product of controlled chaos. My favourite example may be from the early vox-pop interviews the students hold with the Burkittsville townsfolk. The interview involving a mother and child (Susan Gooch and Ingrid EmGee) is a wonderfully unscripted moment of serendipity. As an infant, Ingrid actively tries to silence her gossipy mom from telling a scary story in a way that couldn’t be captured if “planned”.  Yet in simply deciding to keep an unknowing child's instinctive reaction becomes the perfect primer for the events that proceed later.

As more time has passed since its release, the film's contrivances are now more obvious. The cynical eye of the present would provide a higher level of scrutiny, especially of the marketing hype. The website and surrounding fake documentaries were unique when they were created. These days the marketing lore wouldn't look out of place on a creepypasta wiki, next to the likes of Slenderman, an internet legend that owes a lot to The Blair Witch. However, the “raw footage” that became The Blair Witch Project still holds water. The filmmakers' use of form sows deeply embedded seeds of doubt. The performances don’t feel “performed”. It's easy to get wrapped up in the fear and confusion on display. None of it works if anyone knew more than they did. Something that feels impossible to pull off now.

The theme that stands out most in 90s American Horror is postmodernism. This ranges from Candyman's (1992) then-modernised commentary on race and class to the meta-winking references featured in Scream (1996). The Blair Witch Project lands at the decade's end as an exclamation point. Scream toyed with the idea that everyone was hip to cinematic lore. They knew what they were watching. Which was part of the fun. The Blair Witch Project shifted things into a different gear, pushing through the fourth wall and throwing everyone into a realm where no one is sure what is real or fake. It demolishes the media riffs of Scream or Urban Legend (1998) and rebuilds horror cinema into something uncannier: A mutated hybrid of urban legend, audience participation, and cinema verité.

The Blair Witch caused a storm on its release and looks very quaint now. Many scoffed at the time, and it is easy to dismiss now. Modern films operating in the same sphere have eclipsed what it did. Just look at Obsession or even the famous imitator Paranormal Activity. But undeniably, The Blair Witch changed the game. Even now, with the marketing removed, something about the film still lingers for fans like me.  The film worked on me as a 15-year-old on my first viewing. That time, I had walked to the cinema via a shortcut through the woods. The film ensured I got a lift home rather than walking back through the woods. But the most striking example of Blair Witch's effectiveness was in my third viewing. I was in college only 3 years after its original release. I was studying film and one of the few students (possibly the only one) who had seen it previously. These other students had heard of the film but had no idea what to expect. That frame of reference was missing. No marketing hype for these kids. The class watched the film on VHS on a tiny-screened, big-backed television. It was that long ago. The film finished, and the audience was silent. Once we left the lecture theatre and daylight hit our eyes, the group began chatting emphatically about what they just watched. For all the conversation Obsession has generated recently, let's hope it still holds the power to have film students debating so ardently in 2050, as my colleagues and I did 20 odd years ago.  

The Blair Witch Project can currently be found on various streaming channels

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Article: Looking back at Better Luck Tomorrow

Better Luck Tomorrow is a little-seen gem that if not for its presence, the Fast and Furious franchise would look very different if it would even exist. The film is the sophomore feature of director Justin Lin who would go on to direct 5 of the Fast and Furious movies, including Fast Five, considered by many as the franchise's crown jewel. The moment the series sheds the skin of whatever it was for 4 entries and becomes the corona-swigging, family heist square dance we now know it to be. Without Better Luck Tomorrow we may not have got Dwayne Johnson lumbering after sports cars inexplicably speeding away with a huge metal safe.  Without Better Luck Tomorrow, we do not get Han, the much-loved rouge who makes his fast debut in the third film but makes his first appearance in this lesser-known criminal coming-of-age caper. If Justin Lin ever returns to the Fast Franchise, every fan and his dog will inform you about it. If Better Luck Tomorrow ever gets better streaming rights or a physical release, I’ll probably be letting those same fans see that they should try this.

The late 90s/Early 00s were a boon time for a certain kind of teen movie. Films were aimed at the adolescent market, because that’s where the money was, but with more bite and sexiness than what had passed before them. Granted Tom Cruise was cavorting in his undies and getting off with hookers in Risky Business (1983). In the 1980s the slasher movie had fun connecting sex and death, while John Hughes at this point had teen teenage angst all sewn up, defining much of a generation with his influential coming-of-age movies. African American coming-of-age drams gave things a shot in the arm in the early 90s, but it was the likes of Scream (1996) and American Pie (1999) which re-defined things for Hollywood. There was a smattering of post-modernism, irony and spiciness sprinkled on a batch of teen flicks. A place where 20-year-old actors would get cast as high school seniors in films with “grown-up” plots. The style was notable, and for those in Tinseltown, the money was good.

Of course, save for the odd sprinkling of casting, these teen movies were overwhelmingly white. Two decades on, the cinematic melting pot has got a little better, but the default to whiteness still feels like a thing to many. A glance at the teenage titles coming out in the early 00s is a strong reminder of such a perspective. It’s this which makes Better Luck Tomorrow feel so striking. Not only shifting the focus of the coming-of-age movie to a group of Asian Americans but complicating the image of the reserved, nerdy Asian American stereotype. Bringing forth a murky, morally ambiguous tale centred around a group of academically sound, yet bored High Schoolers who swap A grades for cheat sheets and scams. The clique soon delves into the world of petty theft and drugs before things take a murderous turn with the introduction of a rich yet smugly disaffected interloper.

The subversiveness in Justin Lin’s take on American suburbia draws from a background which felt remarkably conventional for the time. Much like Kevin Smith and Robert Rodriguiz, Lin maxed out his credit cards and spent his life savings to fund the film. Cast and crew quit their jobs to go all in on the project, while MC Hammer became an unlikely benefactor towards the film. Funding $10,000 for the production after meeting Lin while the director worked at the Japanese American National Museum. However, Lin’s devotion to representation led to the director turning down funding from investors who wanted the film to be made with Macaulay Culkin in mind as the lead.

 

Such dedication to his vision not only made Lin and his cast stars in Hollywood, but it also created a small cultural milestone in Asian American representation in Western cinema. Lin's crime film is full of the visual tics that mark the look of coming-of-age/teen cinema at the time. The fact that MTV films have a hand in the production is obvious. The introductory quick cutting of still images, the time-lapses, the blown-out highlights and camera shots through fish tanks and on shopping trolleys are a clear hallmark. Yet the Asian representation gives everything an elemental shift. The gang don’t imitate much from Far Eastern Cinema, although the film alludes to John Woo’s 1986 Hong Kong feature. The cultural touchstones come from not only the whiter suburban features of the time but also the likes of Goodfellas (1990). This may be known unconsciously to the characters but it’s conscious to the audience. The film’s cold open is lifted directly from Scorsese’s mob epic.

The same can be said of the character of Virgil (Jason Tobin), who spends much of the film channelling the same combustible energy as Joe Pesci’s Tommy DeVito. Both characters meet similarly tragic circumstances only separated by ages, yet there’s an unexpected yet universal nature to the two counterparts. But Tobin’s Virgil stands out. He is the prototypical, primitive ego of the story. Much like Pesci’s volatile Tommy is so many ways often only separated by age, however, his race discombobulates things. His braindead horniness and overcompensating anger seem so “normal” if this were focused on the typical bored, white affluent teens usually seen in such a story. The fact that he’s Asian American raises an eyebrow and tilts the head. It’s the point. Assimilation is complete.

Roger Ebert, who championed the movie at Sundance, at the time noted that Better Luck Tomorrow is a “disturbing and skilfully told parable about growing up in today’s America.” And this writer fully agrees with him. Better Luck Tomorrow is fascinating in showing how much of a façade racial stereotypes are when so deeply entrenched within the more amoral aspects of American culture. Virgil and Tommy are the same. They’ve both been swallowed and chewed up by the dream of the United States only to succumb to the drama. The same goes for O-dog in Menace 2 Society (1993) which appears a decade before Justin Lin’s feature. So often stereotypes are used as handy scapegoats to inhibit ethnicity. They help placate people into the idea that groups of people can’t or won’t do certain things as it’s “not in their DNA”. Better Luck Tomorrow negates such thinking, having its casual amorality, born from capitalism and boredom, breed like the Covid virus. Many people won’t believe it, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a thing.

Justin Lin is so assured with his storytelling, and it shows here. Better Luck Tomorrow swings from high school hi-jinks into murky darkness effortlessly. Moments of poignancy flip to humour or seriousness within scenes without the sense of whiplash that could have easily occurred. Midway through the movie, Ben, played affably by Perry Sheen, loses his virginity to a sex worker on a trip to Vegas. At first, the scene teeters from sleazy to pathos, before switching back to sordidness and dark humour and finishing with a tense violent confrontation. Never once does the pitch feel out of whack or jarring. Another moment features the four gang members driving home after an allocation with school colleagues at a house party. In one of the film's most arresting and heartbreaking scenes, the camera fixates on Virgil in a close-up. A high school senior torn between both agony and ecstasy upon him and his friends beating on some prejudiced white kids who have been hounding them for the first half of the movie. Making bigoted remarks insinuating what was mentioned in my earlier paragraph. Virgil smiles and grimaces through tears in a moment of retribution and realisation. Angry at the remarks, but joyful at not only getting the jump on the perpetrators but also being noticed. It’s a testament to Lin’s direction, as well as Tobin’s performance in how it doesn’t signpost to the viewer what to feel.  

It's amusing to watch Lin become one of the figureheads of the Fast and Furious saga. A franchise that started as a humble yet vapid Point Break rip-off, before becoming Universal Studio’s largest franchise, amassing 7 billion dollars worldwide. After the John Singleton helmed sequel 2 Fast 2 Furious, the reigns were handed over to Lin who helped maintain its board multicultural appeal. The films are still rather superficial and yet their multicultural representation is stronger than many other blockbuster franchises it contends with. This is an extension of what Lin does in Better Luck Tomorrow, which digs beneath the surface level of its straight-A, Asian students. Characters such as Daric Loo (Roger Fan) and Steve Choe (a pre-fame John Cho) are slippery in their appearance. Promoting themselves as accomplished students at first, before revealing their sociopathic and nihilistic tendencies. Han (Sung Kang) who is the canonical link to the Fast and Furious series, also reveals hidden depths, shifting from the prototypical muscle to something more sensitive. That Han becomes a well-loved member of the fast family by audiences only helps to cement this.

Roger Ebert’s passionate defence of the movie against hecklers who were vocal about the amorally of the Asian leads, touches on something that has slowly become more important in conversations on racial representation. Lin’s characters are complicated by the stereotypes expected of them and the amorality they have an allure for. Many characters of colour are never drawn well enough to be interesting. When they’re shown as sidekicks and villains, they can feel cheap and tacky. Better Luck Tomorrow is strong with building the interiors that make these characters alluring. Ben’s conflict is felt throughout the film. He desires what most high schoolers his age desire. He just never expected it to come from nefarious means. This of course is where the drama lies. Better Luck Tomorrow is a film I’ve enjoyed viewing multiple times because of how it tucks into this. It’s a film that allows its Asian characters to be complicated, even a little amoral, because it would be more offensive if it didn’t do anything like that.   

The film’s final moments end with a succulent piece of uncertainty involving the future of two of the film's characters. The two characters look at each other in a way that suggests they are both sure of something that has happened, but only one person knows. It’s a small yet ambiguous moment which feels closer to The Graduate (1967) than any of the teen fare that Better Luck Tomorrow was competing with. Despite seeing Better Luck Tomorrow more than once, this moment caught me unaware this time around. For all the progression found within the heavyweight franchise Lin become a cornerstone of, it’s doubtful that you would find anything as subtle as within Better Luck Tomorrow’s last couple of moments. 

Better Luck Tomorrow is currently streaming on Apple TV

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Article: The Dirty South

A favourite podcast of mine that I often have filling my earholes when I am preparing the Sunday roast is the highly informative, often funny podcast Behind the Bastards. Hosted by former Cracked Writer Robert Evans; each episode documents an infamous grifter, villain or dictator from the world’s rogues gallery. A recent episode dealt with the recent phenomenon of Tiger King. If you’ve not got Netflix and have been living under a rock, The Netflix show depicts the beyond the bizarre tale of a polyamorous, gay wild cat owner, whose increasingly insane antics ended up with the aforementioned Joe, banged up in Federal Jail for violating the endangered species act and the attempted murder of another Big Cat owner Carole Baskin. The limited series delves into the outrageous lives of a variety of eccentric characters. Joe’s nonconformist lifestyle is as much of the documentaries focus as his grifting and obsession with Baskin. Everything seems to hold itself in a twisted sense of balance. 

Much has been said about the show and the background of the people for whom it is about. But the thing that really picked my brain about the show came from comedian Billy Wayne Davis who guested on the Behind the Bastards Podcast. With his origins based in a more rural, part of southern American, Davis’ reaction was one of near passivity. To him, he had met so many people like the cast of colourful characters on the show, that while he found the show funny, he was non-plussed by their behaviour. Remarking in a near throwaway comment that folks like Joe Exotic only shock city folk due to the little knowledge they hold of locations that the likes of Joe inhabit. Such criminality is common. Crooked lawmen. Hired hitmen. Dubious means of obtaining sums of cash. And always wrapped up within a lifestyle which goes beyond the fringes. Davis also stated on the podcast; The Daily Zeitgeist, that the likes of Jodie Hill and Danny McBride nailed the rural, southern way of life way before the hit Netflix show in their films The Foot Fist Way (2006) and the sitcom Eastbound and Down (2009). Personally, a part of me thinks that we should have been primed for the likes of Joe Exotic in films such as the 1998 Florida noir, Wild Things.

There is plenty of southern fried features with questionable escapades that could easily make an enjoyable overnight binge along with Tiger King. But for me, it’s Wild Things that sticks out as the crown jewel. True Crime has made a splash in the podcast and streaming world with its lurid elements and forensic details. However, a film like Wild Things was indulging itself in the same type of sociopathic chicanery way before Joe Exotic hit the zeitgeist. There is a clear love of the sensationalised indulgences that true crime shows, and podcasts enjoy playing into. But while a show such as Making a Murderer (2015) still can claim an element of moral justice. Tiger King leans into the outlandish mechanisms that also lie within John McNaughton’s humid cult hit. A backcountry playground removed from a so-called civilised world far to up its backside. Non-conformist sexual behaviour, crooked cohorts and the feeling that everyone not only for personal gain but are also a law into themselves. Likable characters are not what you watch either Tiger King or Wild Things for, but the needling desire to see thorn filled rabbit hole leads for these creatures is a strong pull.

In an article for The Ringer released around Wild Things’ 20th anniversary, bestselling author Shea Serrano recounts the amounts of double-crosses that occur in Wild Things’ 108-minute running. Shea notes the number of deceptive shenanigans with glee, yet it’s not noted at how well the film manages to do this. Wild Things comes out in an era where plot-twists and post-modern monkeyshines are well noted. Let’s not take into account Neve Campbell popping up in Scream (1996) or the question of Who is Keyser Soze. Wild Things still comes out a year before The 6th Sense (1999) a film in which that film's major plot twist leaves the audience shook for years to come. Wild Things has TWELVE double crosses within its running time, with Shea averaging that at a double-cross every 9 minutes. Doing for plot twists what Airplane! (1980) did for sight gags. This is, however, a showcase to how drum-tight the movie’s narrative is and how well-oiled the mechanics play out. John McNaughton (Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer) is not a directorial name that features often in circles of social media, those who know the name, know that he is no slouch. Watching Wild Things again, it is fascinating to watch how characters are blocked in scenes to foreshadow hidden agendas and to keep the audience guessing. The positioning of characters, as well as cutting and story shaping from editor Elena Maganini, are a great example of “the seen unseen”. A character placed behind a gated fence, but only after certain aspects play out first. A coupling of characters suggesting an unfortunate outcome for one, but almost signaling out another character who is running out of view. It’s also worth noting aspects such as casting Theresa Russell as the rich bitch Sandra Van Ryan. Russell who had a notable role in crime drama Black Widow (1987) in which she plays a murderous sociopath who murders for money. The film’s sheer audacity to cast Robert Wagner in a film that obtains mysterious boating incidents as set pieces is a clear note of the film’s gallows humour.

Poor Taste? Of course. But Wild Things is a film that knows what it is playing at. Salacious is the order of the day. Both Tiger King and Wild Things embrace taboo and scandal with loving arms. They ride on the idea of the guilty pleasure. Itching at spots that many would like to claim they do not have. The infamous threesome is a moment with a decent amount of sleazy steaminess yet is sneaky enough with the ages of the female students that no one appears to care that they are sleeping with their former teacher that should know better. However, as the camera gleefully glides slowly over the wet body of Denise Richards midway through the film, you see that the film is playing you like a flute. Roger Ebert in his review of the film asks people to refrain from telling him the film is in bad taste. It is quite clear. It makes no excuses. Ebert also remarks that the film is designed for “connoisseurs of melodramatic comic vulgarity”. How do you feel when you see Richards’ washing a dirty jeep in short shorts? Do you note that she is a school student in the film? Your answers will guide you on whether you would want to watch the film. It may also dictate your feelings towards something like Tiger King. The only difference (thankfully) Wild Things is fiction. 

Listen to the Fatal Attractions Podcast episode of Wild Things here