Twenty-five years later, The Blair Witch Project remains one of the most startling independent horror success stories. Filmmakers Daniel Myrick and Eduardo Sánchez turned a roughly $65,000 faux-documentary inspired by History Channel conspiracy specials and Steven Spielberg’s Jaws into a $248.6 million payday. Found footage movies soon gained overnight popularity as low-risk, high-reward projects, but nothing came close to The Blair Witch Project until Oren Peli’s Paranormal Activity — the almost $200-million-grossing film that built Blumhouse. The Blair Witch Project was lightning in a bottle, never to be replicated, and audiences rewarded those involved — especially acquiring studio Artisan Entertainment (which was purchased by new owners Lionsgate) — with obscene profitability.
Well, everyone besides the trio of actors on camera: Rei Hance (then Heather Donahue), Michael C. Williams, and Joshua Leonard.
What started with a 35-page script and eight days of improvisational workshopping in Maryland’s woodlands became one of the most infamous hoodwinks in the horror genre’s illustrious history. Hance, Williams, and Leonard doubled as camera technicians to sell their documentarian roles — Hance learned how to properly operate video cameras over a two-day crash course — and filled in dialogue gaps based on hidden prompts written by the filmmakers. So much of what you love about The Blair Witch Project is because of these three, as their characters find themselves lost and mapless in a purgatorial loop outside Burkittsville. The Hi8 camcorder footage, the rants about never seeing Cal Ripken Jr. again, the dreadful sense of realism — you cannot deny Hance, Williams, and Leonard’s stamp in every scene.
Nor can the rest of the horror genre. Without The Blair Witch Project, we’d never have an entire Scooby-Doo parody aptly titled The Scooby-Doo Project. There’d be no pivotal Scary Movie scene where Cheri Oteri’s Gail Hailstorm erupts snot out her nose as she mimics Heather’s close-up monologue. Countless imitators with varying levels of success, like Willow Creek (yay!) or Nightlight (boo!), test the limits between imitation and flattery. From lost VHS oddities like Kerry Prior’s recently unearthed The Blair Rabbit Project to mainstream references like Randy’s “I’m … So … Startled” line in South Park, the Sundance breakout’s influence is inescapable. So are the likenesses of Hance, Williams, and Leonard, despite the studio’s refusal to acknowledge the actors as performers until after the film’s wide release July 30.
You would think pivotal collaborators like Hance, Williams, and Leonard would be treated as respectfully by Artisan/Lionsgate as to match any horror faithful’s vocal adoration. Unfortunately, as outlined in a heartbreaking interview with Variety, it’s the polar opposite. Where The New York Times reported that production company Haxan (behind The Blair Witch Project) and its investors earned “an estimated $35 million to $40 million,” the three actors were awarded “a roughly $300,000 settlement that would be paid to each of them over several years” in February 2004 only after formal litigation. Now, it’s not all about financial compensation — the trio should be forever proud of their cultural imprint — but workers deserve to see fair payment for their efforts despite what suited jabronis like David Zaslav believe. Hance, Williams, and Leonard were integral contributors both in front and behind the camera, shaping The Blair Witch Project through improv chops and cinematography.
It’s difficult to reckon with the film’s legacy knowing how callously Artisan/Lionsgate has treated its cast while simultaneously acknowledging The Blair Witch Project as the gateway drug into an uncharted genre movement. As the film broke $100 million at the domestic box office, Artisan rewarded Hance, Williams, and Leonard with fruit baskets. While The Blair Witch Project became commonplace in conversations at horror festivals or around water coolers, questioning whether this cursed film got its crew killed, said crew — forbidden from outing themselves as actors — had to remain unseen. It’s an unfortunate case study about how this industry will devour and discard eager young actors, further spotlighted by SAG-AFTRA’s recent precedent-setting strike. An industry driven by dotted lines and misconceptions about creative importance will never have “lesser” hiree’s interests at heart — all you’ll earn is an Edible Arrangement if studio moguls can tweak deals to the bottom line’s benefit.
There’s an argument to be made that without Hance, Williams, and Leonard’s disappearing act, The Blair Witch Project wouldn’t have been as lucrative. Before the days of Cloverfield and Slusho! forums, The Blair Witch Project launched an online campaign to convince possible ticket buyers that Hance, Williams, and Leonard — whose government ID names were repurposed for their characters — actually died making their movie. It was a brilliant promotion, spreading controversy like California wildfires, but Artisan/Lionsgate essentially hijacked the trio’s identities to pull the stunt off until July 1999's opening weekend. Leonard faced backlash when cast in an indie movie during the process, and Hance’s publicist hire was for naught when she was banned from doing interviews. As The Blair Witch Project was writing itself into genre history books, producers refused its on-camera players their well-deserved moments in the spotlight. What should have been rocket fuel injected directly into their careers never came.
In truth, the legacy of The Blair Witch Project is still evolving all these years later — just not in the way we’d expect. Hance, Williams, and Leonard are currently pursuing restitution by requesting “Retroactive + future residual payments … for acting services rendered in the original BWP, equivalent to the sum that would’ve been allotted through SAG-AFTRA, had we had proper union or legal representation when the film was made.”
The movie itself doesn’t need further examination; the found footage genre is indebted to the techniques and thematic manipulation on display. What deserves attention is everything Hance, Williams, and Leonard are justifiably fighting for in terms of retroactive compensation. The Blair Witch Project isn't seen as solely a jackpot victory for the "little guys" anymore; it's a disheartening and cautionary tale for anyone breaking into the industry.
