Maple Syrup Massacre is an editorial series where Joe Lipsett dissects the themes, conventions and contributions of new and classic Canadian horror films. Spoilers follow…
Fake Blood is a delicious curiousity: it’s a documentary about director Rob Grant and his frequent collaborator Mike Kovac, who also co-writes, exploring their responsibility in depicting cinematic violence.
Or at least that’s how it starts.
Over time the film slowly morphs into something different. As the two men embark on a mission to “experience” the kinds of violence depicted in their low budget films, they slowly become immersed in a narrative of their own making involving a “real-life” murderer named “John.”
Grant is well known in indie horror circles. In addition to directing under-the-radar gem Harpoon, he’s the editor of films like Knuckleball (directed by Fake Blood’s other co-writer, Michael Peterson) and this year’s Influencer.
In the film, Rob and Mike play themselves: a Vancouver filmmaker and actor, who are shaken up when they receive a video from a fan detailing how to dismember a body. The pair begin to question how violence is depicted not just in their films, but other horror and crime films. There’s even a montage of real life crimes that were allegedly inspired by films such as Scream, Child’s Play 3, Natural Born Killers, and A Clockwork Orange.
In order to assess how real life violence fares compared to cinematic violence, the guys make a laundry list: they start at the gun range where they shoot a variety of weapons before moving onto the dojo where Rob gets in a real fight (that last sixty seconds). The take-away: real life violence is much more brutal, rough, and less fantastical than it is on screen.
It’s when Rob tracks down a film consultant who may have ties to organized crime that Fake Blood begins to slip into fictional territory. A clandestine meeting with John in a parking garage involves blurring the man’s face and distorting his voice. Following the interview, Rob and Mike investigate the mystery man’s actual identity, then move on to reviewing his court transcripts, and seek out the brother of his murder victim. Throughout this process, Mike and Rob grow apart as the goal of the project becomes distorted and their lives (and the lives of those they love) become increasingly impacted by their decisions.
Many of the events, particularly those in the back half of the film, did not actually happen. The two films that Rob and Mike discuss at the start of Fake Blood – zombie film Yesterday (2009) and kidnapping-gone-wrong crime film Mon Ami (2012) – are, however, real films the pair worked on. Ditto the fan video that acts as an inciting incident; in press for the film, they admit the real life video is what prompted them to make the film.
The line between reality, improvised/sketch documentary, and fiction is not always so easy to distinguish, though. Take, for example, the re-enactments that are integrated into the film. Filmed in a stylized format that will be familiar to anyone who has watched true crime, these sequences act as transitions between the “truth” of the original project and the more sensational (read: fictional) back half.
As Rob and Mike learn more about the lurid details of John’s crimes, they are recreated using actors Len Harvey (playing John), Chelsey Reist (playing the murder victim), and Theo Francon (playing Phil Cotton, John’s accomplice). Following each re-enactment, there’s a moment of cognitive dissonance as Fake Blood switches from the soft melodrama back to the “real world.” Often this is accompanied by Rob yelling cut on the set of the re-enactment before the real life actors are interviewed about their opinions on cinematic violence.
Like a documentary, most of the film was shot without a specific narrative in mind and the story was discovered in the editing room. It’s clear that certain sections were more scripted than others, while some were improvised, and still others were captured naturally. At one point Rob even conflates the word “film” with “the doc” they’re making before shaking his head, wondering “Whatever we’re calling this.”
Aside from the “Canadian-ness” of the actors and the locations (the film was primarily shot in Vancouver, BC with a ferry detour to Langford on Vancouver Island), the focus on something other than gun violence feels particularly Canadian. In 2017, the year that Fake Blood was released, there were 23 mass shootings in the United States. The same year in Canada, there were six. But those numbers are barely comparable: the 2017 Las Vegas shooting killed 60 people alone , which is four times the cumulative total of all of Canada’s 2017 shooting deaths (15).
In some ways, this makes Fake Blood feel more empathetic: in spite of the gradual shift into fictional storytelling, its clear that Mike and Rob are truly interested in exploring their role in contributing to sensational media. The discourse is peppered throughout the film, with Reist lamenting the focus on violence over storytelling, while Mike initially proposes their main responsibility is to entertain audiences, not be realistic.
One of Fake Blood‘s buzziest moments occurs late in the film when Harvey explains his issues with romantic comedies. The suggestion that everyone will inevitably discover love detrimentally affected Harvey’s self-worth and altered his real life perception of romance in ways that he believes are far more damaging than onscreen violence.
It’s an interesting point, and one not often discussed (in part because broken hearted people rarely vent their feelings using bullets, knives or other weapons), but the point remains: people tend to focus on crime and horror films when looking for a scapegoat. While Fake Blood unabashedly acknowledges that there are consequences to creatives’ actions, however, it does not put the blame for real life violence on violent media.
By the end of the film, when the relationship between Rob and Mike has been (fictitiously) fractured, the consequences are clear. For the audience, it’s a bit more nebulous: Fake Blood is so absorbing and compelling, particularly in its construction, it’s easy to lose sight of the message because Fake Blood is just a damn good film.
Or doc.
Or whatever you want to call it.
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