Near-masterpiece!

Rating: 8/10 (10 May 1999)

This landmark pseudo-documentary "film" has all the hallmarks of cult-classicdom, which is a gross injustice since it deserves much wider acclaim and audiences. The filmmakers penetrate with fearless conviction and wanton abandon the very nexus and recesses of our psyche to illuminate - in all its terrifying spectrum - a mind-blowing vortex of fear, desire, anxiety, and repressed primordial behaviour. This anti-"film" seeks to immolate the form and style of the medium (it eschews the montonous regularity of the grunge / metal soundtracks; the token, big-breasted, half-naked virginal sophomores; the stupidity and delinquency of the characters; the visceral SFX gore and 'dice-and splice' bloodletting so enamoured of horror maestros; the requisite 'name' stars; and the predictable and strategically configured plotlines all adhering to the formulaic traditions of the genre).
Instead the viewer is bombarded with technically inept production values, crude sound, variable focus and lighting, Cassavetes-style improvisational rambling, jerky and mistake-ridden mobile camera takes. The whole cinematic world, its diagesis, because of the aforesaid rather than in spite of it, renders this truly harrowing and relentless excursion as an unnervingly claustrophobic and intensely warped psychodrama of the very nucleus of our mind and sanity! The devastating realism, the astonishing simplicity of such a stunning idea (why didn't I ever think of it!?), the evocative and eerie odour of the unknown, and the adrenalin-rush tension all evoke the grand testaments of the classic horror arc of Val Lewton's atmospheric "Isle of the Dead', "Cat People" and "The Seventh Victim", to early Polanski (remember the brilliant and subtle terrors of "Knife in the Water" and the masterful "Repulsion"), to the gradual ascent of brooding tension and uneasy confinement of Romero's "Night of the Living Dead", and Tobe Hooper's vastly under-rated "Texas Chainsaw Massacre". In no way does this film reference the whirlwind "stuck in the woods" misanthropy and explicit violence of revenge films like Wes Craven's "Last House on the Left" and Meir Zarchi's "I Spit on Your Grave".
As an expose and treatise of the subdivide between fiction and documentary the "film" works on multifaceted planes: documentary within film (and vice versa), the interplay between the characters, the filmmakers and the viewer, the mimicry and artifice of the celluloid process that is so glaringly interwoven into the lives of the victims, and the perceived notions of what constitutes fiction-realism. Furthermore, important themes of the symbolic grounding of "woman-as-witch' cum maternal earth goddess/mother, the socio-political vanguard of the mythology of the American city/country divide, are all grounded in latent but nonetheless tacit modes of this film's self-referential discourse. It also posits the Nietzchean question vis-a-vis "if we are stripped of our normalcy do we become the masters of our destiny and do we appropriate the knowledge and power and mastery of others to survive in hostile, predatory environments? Prevalent too is the almost atavistic primal elements of the earth - wind, water, fire, earth, light, cold - that obstructs and railroads the characters (and thus ourselves) via stress, sleep deprivation, hunger, alienation and pain.
Flaws include: (1) if all hope is vain then why do they keep filming right to the end? (2) When one of the three goes missing, why resort to the genre cliche of doing the direct opposite of what you would expect any logical and sane sentient being to do (in this case, flash the power lights around like it was the Sydney Olympics opening ceremony lightshow spectacular!). (3) The penchant for over-reacting, particularly from Heather, suggests something is very awry with this "doco". (4) A far more potent ending would be the absence of credits as this reinforces the fictionalised nature of what preceded. (5) And the ending, though thoroughly gripping and suitably open-ended, seems a tad contrived and forced (however I will reserve full judgement here as the videotape I saw was very hazy and lacked clarity in this end sequence).
The excellent trailer utilises the unsettling and heartfelt soliloquy to camera by the desolate Heather as she curls up in the dead of night with only the light of the bulb rallied against the unseen echoes of screaming surrounding the tent. Overall, this is a riveting, mesmerising and enthralling work of brilliant simplicity that radiates a rare multifaceted intricacy. I don't care what anyone says - I consider the film a NEAR-MASTERPIECE (I've now seen it twice)! And if you, like me, absolutely detest nine out of every ten films made these days, here is that precious gem that restores your faith in the aesthetic and artistic realms of the filmmaking craft. Personal opinions aside unfortunately, gross box office potential is severely disadvantaged by the low-budget, its style and technique, the genre, and the provocative, almost confrontational nature of the plot. This will only appeal to the secondary strata of cinema audiences (indie gurus, theorists, academics, cineastes, horror groupies and film buffs will adore) but popular demographics brought up on a diet of fatuous high tech 'spill and thrills' will stay away in droves. Word of mouth will be very strong particularly if it is further worked around the international film festival circuit, as already evident on the internet, and critical response should be favourable. A gross injustice when a brilliant little film like this with modest parentage succeeds against all odds.
8/10