25 Years Later, The Original Blair Witch Project Cast Speaks Out Against Studio

For the trio of actors who almost singlehandedly turned "The Blair Witch Project" into a cultural phenomenon and one of the most terrifying horror films of the last quarter century, what should've been the dream roles of a lifetime have instead turned into a living nightmare.

In the late 1990s, young and up-and-coming performers Heather Donahue, Michael C. Williams, and Joshua Leonard found themselves joining an extremely low-budget indie production that was then titled "The Black Hills Project." The concept was simple: The three leads would be filming approximately 10 minutes of footage as part of a fictional horror documentary, playing the part of student filmmakers searching for evidence of a local legend known as the Blair Witch, and who vanished without a trace in the Maryland woods. Not only were the three required to sign off on clauses that would allow filmmakers Daniel Myrick and Eduardo Sánchez to use their real names for their respective characters — a clever narrative trick intended to make the immersive experience feel that much more realistic for audiences — but the found-footage approach also meant that Donahue, Williams, and Leonard had to learn to operate their own cameras and sound equipment throughout the shoot (not to mention improvise the majority of the plot).

By the time the production evolved into its final cut, none of the soon-to-be stars could've imagined how the unprecedented success of this film would turn their lives entirely upside down ... nor just how little they would ever see of its actual profits. Now, 25 years later, they're speaking up in a new profile with Variety and taking on the studio responsible for withholding the financial compensation they deserved all along.

For all their efforts in going above and beyond to turn "The Blair Witch Project" into a smash hit, none of the actors were ever able to enjoy the experience at the time. The deeply unfortunate irony of it all is that this was a result of the secretive marketing that helped make the movie such a breakthrough success in the first place. In order to maintain the illusion that the horrific events of the story were based on real events, Artisan Entertainment (the studio that purchased the rights to the film out of its Sundance Film Festival debut) prevented the actors from doing any sort of publicity prior to the film's theatrical release. Not only were they barred from even attending the Cannes Film Festival premiere later that year, but they were also discouraged from conducting interviews hyping up their work and, incredibly enough, even booking acting gigs in other movies.

Yet even this wouldn't have been so bad, according to the actors, if only they'd received any of the film's $248 million in worldwide profits after it exploded into theaters and fully earned its reputation as an instant classic. (Variety reports "The Blair Witch Project" was originally budgeted at $35,000, making it "one of the most profitable independent films ever made.") Instead, the actors made ends meet by continuing to work odd jobs moving furniture or waiting tables while they waited for their checks in the mail. When the $100 million domestic milestone came and went, Artisan merely sent fruit baskets to the stars. As Heather Donahue recalled:

"That was when it became clear that, wow, we were not going to get anything. We were being cut out of something that we were intimately involved with creating."

Even after "The Blair Witch Project" released to great acclaim in July of 1999 and Heather Donahue, Michael C. Williams, and Joshua Leonard were finally free of marketing gimmicks to enjoy their moment in the spotlight, their problems didn't magically disappear overnight. In fact, they only became worse. Donahue, in particular, received the brunt of it. She made the mistake of being too honest during one memorable moment, saying, "I had an interview with The Philadelphia Inquirer where I said something like, 'I'm the poorest famous person in America right now.' Artisan reached out to tell me I can't say that." In addition, she also had to deal with misogynist complaints directed towards her character from moviegoers. "Heather's portrayal of a fierce and relentless artist who would not stop filming wasn't an acceptable archetype at the time," Leonard explained. "She was fair game to be hated on, and they were using her real name." Donahue put it even more bluntly to Variety, saying:

"It was relentless. Just that feeling of 'Wow, this is definitely not what I signed up for, and I have no money to protect myself from the onslaught."

Their collective struggles to pay rent or pay off grocery bills in the years since have taken a toll, as well. At one point during the interview, Williams emotionally admitted, "I'm embarrassed that I let this happen to me [...] Because everybody's wondering what happened, and your wife is in the grocery line and she can't pay because a check bounced. You're in the most successful independent movie of all time, and you can't take care of your loved ones."

Meanwhile, as Artisan continued to profit off of their names and likenesses by expanding the "Blair Witch" franchise, the trio decided to sue the studio and ultimately reached a paltry $300,000 settlement in 2004. Yet the infringement didn't stop there, as Lionsgate (which purchased Artisan just one year prior) announced its intentions to make the 2016 sequel "Blair Witch" that would follow the Donahue character's younger brother and make further use of the actor's face and name. Only Donahue's insistence that they uphold the terms of the settlement prevented the studio from taking advantage of the actor even more than they had already done.

The recent announcement that Lionsgate will be rebooting the series with a new "Blair Witch" movie only unearthed fresh wounds for the cast. Once again, they were given no advanced warning that the studio would be implicitly relying on their names and faces to promote another take on the original film. According to Donahue:

"I actually was looking forward to the 25th anniversary. We had booked a couple of conventions. It's nice to hear nice things from the fans and see the guys. It was feeling very sweet for the first time in the whole history of this thing. And then — boom — comes this announcement, and it's like, motherf***ers."

This finally prompted them to pen an open letter to Lionsgate and demand the residuals they were owed over the decades, though it's uncertain whether they have the legal standing to ultimately receive anything close to the amount they seek. Once again, Donahue put it most succinctly: "Is there value there [in using our names and identities] or not? If there's value, compensate us accordingly, and if there's no value, then just stop using us."