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[Based on the Hit Film] Replaying ‘Blair Witch Volume II: The Legend of Coffin Rock’

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“Based on the Hit Film” is a series of articles looking at the video game spin-offs and adaptations of popular horror and movies.

The swaying trees that line the empty backroads of Burkittsville, MD have many stories to tell. They whisper the horrid tales from era’s long-since past, times when men and women learned to fear the impossible forces we scoff at today. The town of Burkittsville has suffered much through its history; the grimmest accounts laid out in multiple mediums over the past 17 years. Of course, it’s all part of the very effective but undeniably fictional universe created by 1999’s The Blair Witch Project.

The horrors that befell Burkittsville over centuries may not be real, but that doesn’t make them any less interesting to explore. From the tale of Elly Kedward to the 2016 expedition searching for the truth behind the famed disappearances of October 1994, the lore of the Blair Witch is quite rich.

Most surprisingly, it was a trilogy of PC games and not the subsequent movies that helped flesh out the legends of the Blair Witch. While Book of Shadows and the 2016 sequel only further complicate and muddy what was laid out in in the original, the trio of PC games published by Gathering of Developers is a more cohesive unraveling of the legend of the beldam of Burkittsville.

In 2000, a trio of game developers took on the task of expanding upon the story originally created by Daniel Myrick and Eduardo Sanchez. The first of the three, Blair Witch Volume I: Rustin Parr was developed by Terminal Reality (Ghostbusters: The Video Game). The game followed “Spookhouse” agent Elspeth “Doc” Holliday, who was sent to the sleepy Maryland town to investigate the case of Rustin Parr, a local hermit accused of kidnapping seven children and killing six of them. According to the recluse, it was done so under the spell of supernatural forces. Holliday, a level-headed woman of science, goes into the case less convinced.

Blair Witch Volume I: Rustin Parr sets The Blair Witch Project in the same universe as another Terminal Reality action-survival horror game, Nocturne. By combining the two properties, it allowed the development team to flesh out its own world filled with monsters and deadly shadows long before Blair Witch (2016) introduced the long-legged, scraggly creature in the film’s climax. 

As thorough as Blair Witch Volume I was in investigating the story of Rustin Parr and building up a universe of dangerous terrors, there was still more darkness to explore in Burkittsville’s past. In the late-19th century, an amnesiac Union soldier awoke in the woods near the infamous Coffin Rock. Those well-versed in Blair Witch mythology will quickly recognize the landmark as that of the destination of the ill-fated documentary crew from October 1994. It’s also the subject of Blair Witch Volume II: The Legend of Coffin Rock, the follow-up to Terminal Reality’s first entry in the video game trilogy.

Just as Blair Witch Volume I had done, The Legend of Coffin Rock takes the foundation laid out in the 1999 movie and uses it to build a complete, albeit short, narrative. Developed by Human Head Studios, the second part of the series explores the gruesome activities linked to the aptly named rock formation. In the movie, Heather, Mike, and Josh traveled to the rock, which was the site of a ritualistic murder in the 19th century. In The Legend of Coffin Rock, it’s the union soldier’s torture and torment by the evils of Burkittsville that spurred the filmmakers’ curiosity in the rock. 

The soldier, dubbed Lazarus by the grandmother of Robin Weaver, treks deeper into the dangerous woods after Robin goes missing. It doesn’t take long before he becomes more wrapped up in the psychological terrors that haunt the weary townsfolk. Lazarus finds, much like Holliday does 55 years later, that there is more to the sleepy town than what’s on the surface. The Civil War setting takes away the fancy gadgets of Doc Holliday and Spookhouse, leaving Lazarus to rely on slow muskets and swords to battle the monstrosities that stalk the dense forestry. On paper, it sounds like a solid premise, but The Legend of Coffin Rock stumbles a bit and starts to feel like an incomplete reskin of its predecessor.

Bloober Team Discusses Its Take on Blair Witch

Outside of the shift in the time period and a different protagonist, Human Head Studios didn’t change much from Volume I. As much as any fan of the franchise may love to see how the search party looking for Robin wound up gutted and carved at Coffin Rock, Volume II winds up being an anti-climactic means of delivering. Though the game still runs on the same Nocturne engine as Blair Witch Volume I and the two games are mechanically identical, Volume II fails to capture the essence of survival horror in the same way and is more of a dramatic period piece with minimal substance.  

The Legend of Coffin Rock struggles to find a balance between telling a story and letting players enjoy the game. While the truth surrounding Coffin Rock and Lazarus’ past is a highlight to watch unfold, so much of the experience surrounding it is rather drab. Whereas Volume I let players explore more freely, the follow-up is more linear and too straight forward. The fun nods to Terminal Reality’s survival horror title, Nocturne, are also gone, leaving behind an empty shell that would have benefited from the intrigue and imagination of an expanded universe.

As it stands, the game plays out more like an interactive documentary, forcing players to go through tedious motions to get to the big payoff – which is a muddied climax that feels so far removed from The Blair Witch Project.

The slight drop quality and disconnect from Blair Witch Volume I were noticeable, but hardly reason enough for The Legend of Coffin Rock to underperform. Though Rustin Parr was able to sell nearly 50,000 copies in a year, its successor fell dreadfully short at 16,000 units. Despite being developed on the same engine, The Legend of Coffin Rock received fewer favorable reviews, with critics citing a lack of scares and a rushed story as its most significant pitfalls. 

With the mystery behind Coffin Rock revealed and the tale of Lazarus concluded, there was still one more link to the Blair Witch that needed exploring – the hag herself. For that, Ritual Entertainment stepped in, completing the trio of teams known as the Gathering of Developers. Just as The Legend of Coffin Rock was a step down from Rustin Parr, Blair Witch Volume III: The Elly Kedward Tale took another drop in quality. That, however, is a story for another time.

Despite what it does wrong, The Legend of Coffin Rock is still an intriguing look into the deep universe created by The Blair Witch Project. It may not have the eerie atmospheres, effective jump scares, or even the mildly likable characters of Rustin Parr, it does help answer some questions initially sought by the missing documentary crew that brought the legend of the Blair Witch to the public’s eye.

Seasoned content writer and a horror-loving gaming enthusiast with a soft spot for Ghostbusters, bubble wrap, and kittens.

Editorials

‘The Company of Wolves’ at 40: One of the Most Underrated Werewolf Movies Ever Made

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There’s a compelling idea in anthropology that many ancient werewolf legends are derived from our species’ need to rationalize the more animalistic side of humanity – which is why lycanthropy has historically been used to explain everything from medieval serial killers to cannibalism. While I personally think there’s a lot more to unpack when it comes to tales of wolfmen and women, this is still a great example of why so many of our most enduring fairy tales involve big bad wolves.

And in the world of film, I think there’s only one feature that really nails the folkloric origins of werewolf stories, namely Neil Jordan’s 1984 fairy-tale horror classic, The Company of Wolves. Even four decades later, there’s no other genre flick that comes close to capturing the dreamlike ambience behind this strange anthology, and that’s why I’d like to take this opportunity to look back on one of the most underrated werewolf flicks ever made.

The Company of Wolves was originally a short story contained in the 1979 anthology The Bloody Chamber, a collection of deconstructed fairy-tales intended for mature readers penned by English author Angela Carter. With the book quickly becoming a hit as readers became fascinated with its subversion of classic folk stories and (then) controversial feminist undertones, it was soon transformed into a duology of BBC radio-dramas which adapted both The Company of Wolves and Carter’s reimagining of Puss-in-Boots.

These radio-dramas soon attracted the attention of then up-and-coming Irish filmmaker Neil Jordan, who decided to meet with Carter to discuss expanding on her stories and bringing them to life on the big screen. The duo soon realized that a single short story wasn’t enough material for a feature-length film, so they decided to adapt all of Carter’s werewolf tales into a single anthology.

With a completed script and a $2.3 million budget, Jordan decided to tackle the project like a hybrid between a theatrical period drama and a schlocky monster movie. Effects-heavy creature features were a hot commodity back in the ’80s, with films like The Howling and An American Werewolf in London proving that there was an audience for horrific lycanthrope transformations, so the director soon recruited a team that could turn this odd collection of feminist folk stories into something commercially viable.

Not exactly a great pick for family movie night.

Shooting would eventually take place almost entirely within the England-based Shepperton Studios, with notable production designer Anton Furst (who would later be known for his work on Tim Burton’s Batman films) helping to bring Jordan’s vision of a darkly romantic fairy-tale world to life. Appropriately enough, production would also involve a real pack of trained wolves (as well as a collection of dyed dogs), though extensive puppetry and animatronics were also used to flesh out the more gruesome parts of the flick.

After a grueling nine-week shoot where budgetary constraints led to corners being cut on props and costumes, The Company of Wolves was finally released in September of 1984 – just in time for spooky season. In the finished film, we follow the strange dreams of a sulky teenage girl named Rosaleen (first-time actress Sarah Patterson) as the film unravels an Arabian-Nights-inspired tapestry of both familiar and not-so-familiar stories about big bad wolves.

From sexually charged cautionary tales to parables about female empowerment, this surreal collection of deranged bedtime stories is much more than the creature feature that the marketing initially suggested. Like a more horror-oriented version of Jim Henson’s Labyrinth, The Company of Wolves exudes that same kind of hormonal teenage energy that transports us back to a time when the world was both scary and exciting in equal measure.

That’s not to say that this is an entirely pleasant experience, however, and I’m not just talking about the film’s horror elements. A big portion of the flick’s overtly sexual moments involve the then 13-year-old Patterson coming to grips with her blossoming womanhood and the dangers of predatory men (usually marked with a humorous unibrow), something that naturally makes for some intentionally uncomfortable viewing – especially in the year of our lord 2024.

Obviously, I don’t think it’s my place to dissect (or even judge) the effectiveness of the film’s commentaries on being a young woman, but even as a man I can still appreciate the thought and care that went into crafting this Jungian cocktail of serious themes in a genre-movie package that almost certainly went on to inspire future werewolf movies like Ginger Snaps.

Not the worst wedding I’ve been to.

That being said, what really keeps me coming back to the film is the absurd amount of memorable imagery. From a wedding party being taken over by canines to lonely treks through snowy groves, this is exactly the gloomy world I imagined as a child when reading Grimms’ Fairy Tales – and the dreamy atmosphere is only enhanced by the movie’s overall theatricality.

This also extends to the effects, as it’s easy to forgive decapitated dummy heads and ripped rubber skin when everything is happening in a magical hyper-reality, with a great example of this is being the scene where Grandma’s head unexpectedly explodes like a porcelain doll when it’s knocked off by a wolfman. That’s not to say that the effects are bad, as several of these transformations are downright grisly and likely influenced future lycanthrope effects like those in Underworld and even Trick ‘r Treat (even if the wolf-dogs here often look more cute than scary).

Of course, these aren’t the only things that The Company of Wolves has going for it, as the main trio of Patterson, Micha Bergese and the late, great Angela Lansbury exceptionally bring these exaggerated caricatures to life and the orchestral score is an absolute delight. I also really get a kick out of that bizarre ending implying that the dangers of adult life have literally come crashing into Rosaleen’s bedroom.

The Company of Wolves may not be a perfect film, suffering from some wonky pacing and the classic anthology problem where some stories are clearly much more enjoyable than others, but I’d argue that the flick’s iconic visuals and powerful thematic throughline more than make up for any minor flaws. And while we’ve seen bigger and better werewolf films since then, when it comes to adult-oriented fairy-tales, this is one psycho-sexual journey that is still worth revisiting 40 years down the line.

The Company of Wolves

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