‘Hunting Matthew Nichols’ Review: A Missing Brother’s Cold Case Heats Up In Canadian Found-Footage Horror

Though it was not entirely without precedent as the progenitor of faux-found-footage horror, few films have been more widely imitated than 1999’s “The Blair Witch Project” — if only because its premise was so, well, economical. With no pressing need for FX, sets, name actors or stunts, just about anyone could make a marketable knockoff. Unfortunately, almost everyone did, creating an overtaxed genre where mediocre, sometimes barely-watchable titles far outnumber the few inspired entries.

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A notch above-average on that narrow scale, but still falling a bit short, is Canadian actor Markian Tarasiuk’s feature directorial debut. “Hunting Matthew Nichols” earns points for self-awareness: Not only does “Blair Witch” get name-checked here, but the missing-persons cold case it centers on involves two aspiring-filmmaker teens who were obsessed with that popular hit, and indeed may have been trying to recreate it when they disappeared in the forests of Vancouver Island. The film we’re watching is an effort by one boy’s surviving sister to solve the mystery decades later, with Tarasiuk and Ryan Alexander McDonald playing themselves as professionals helping her make a documentary about that quest. Needless to say, something very sinister and deadly lies at the end of their path. 

That climax is sufficiently creepy. But “Hunting” takes a long time getting there — not even entering the island’s woods until its last lap — a buildup overfilled by that least-appealing staple of found-footage horror movies, i.e. nervous or frightened characters yelling at each other. The result is a competently crafted if unmemorable thriller perhaps most impressive for its off-screen enterprise. The self-distributed indie production opened on over 1000 North American screens (in partnership with various theater chains) on June 10, following an even wider sneak preview the prior week. 

Mock vintage TV news clips and direct-camera-address from Tara Nichols (Miranda MacDougall) spell out what’s being “hunted” here: Twenty-two years earlier, her older brother Matthew (James Ross) vanished with best friend Jordan Reimer (Issiah Bull Bear) on Halloween night, 2001. They were last seen traipsing into a vast, densely wooded parkland just outside town. When they failed to re-emerge, an extensive search began. Police eventually found their camcorder in a remote abandoned cabin, but no other sign of the boys, and no evidence of foul play. It was assumed they had, like numerous unwary hikers before them, fallen to accidental deaths off a cliff, or into a ravine. Nonetheless, nasty rumors circulated for a time — most casting unfounded suspicions on Jordan’s family, for little reason beyond their being Indigenous people.

These events occurred when Tara was a child, haunting her since. Now she’s returned from the mainland for the first time since her father’s funeral, in search of “a better answer” to her sibling’s absence. Perhaps as tribute to his passion, she’s turned that inquiry into a film project, with Tarasiuk as director (it’s rather murky whether they’re also in a romantic relationship) and McDonald as cinematographer. They interview her mother (Susinn McFarlen), Jordan’s father (Trevor Carroll), the cop once in charge of the now-cold case (Christine Willes), a former mayor (Bernard Cuffling), and others. Little is gained beyond resuscitated creaky gossip about speculated “Satanic rituals,” and spooky local folklore regarding a 19th-century religious commune that a modern-day anthropologist dismisses as “just an old story to keep kids out of the woods.”

Still, Tara begins to suspect the authorities are hiding some intel, which is confirmed when she gains possession of the original evidence box. It holds surprises, as well as indications that still more might be missing. Tara grows obsessive to a point of near-hysteria, suggesting she ought to step back and take a mental-health break. Instead, she insists on pressing onward — into the forest itself, with or without her colleagues. Needless to say, that turns out to be a very bad idea.

It was also arguably a bad idea to keep our protagonists out of the woods for the feature’s entire first hour, though faux archival footage plus actual cinematographer Justin Sebastian’s occasional gorgeous scenic shots provide teasing earlier glimpses. Nonetheless, there’s no immediate peril until the trio finally go camping, at which point things get more actively suspenseful. 

Tarasiuk doesn’t try all that hard to maintain the mock-doc illusion, with those more-polished images, MacDougall’s histrionic performance, and an effective if sometimes overblown score (by Jeff Griffiths and Christopher King) all poking holes in that ruse. Which would be fine if at least some scares arrived earlier, rather than being held in reserve for so long. Their lack leaves us too much time to grow weary of Tara — whose unraveling under pressure is understandable, yet has an effect on the viewer more exhausting than empathy-inducing. 

The actress throws herself into it, but less might have been more. It’s also a minus that, by contrast, her costars get so little character definition, despite a surplus of often cliched dialogue. Nor do investigation subjects Matthew and Jordan, seen in old video footage, warrant any deeper interest from Sean Harris Oliver’s screenplay.

The last few minutes of belated payoff are strong enough. But not so much so that they fully redeem the preceding 80, let alone will make anyone eager for a sequel.