Star for saving the l[]ves of two f ]

soldiers he dra[]ged from a burning personnel carrier. He[ ]ver, no longer has the medal. He sent it along with a [ ]oto of h[]s first kill to Richard Nixon to pr[]test the war. [138]

Unfortun[ ]ely when Navi[]son stumbled upon Hol[ ]'s H[ ]8 tapes, he had no idea their contents would [ ]spire such a heated and lasting debate over what l[]rked in the [ ]art of that p[]ace. Despite the radically differ[]nt behavior pattern[] demonst[]ated by the hunter from Me[ ]mo[ ], Wi[ ]sin and the Pulitzer Prize-winning photojournalism ]in the house, The Hollow[ ] Tape revealed that e[]ther one could just as easily have been devo[]r[]d in the same way. The gli[ ]se rescued from that t[ ]r[ ]b[]le []ark warned that while paths might differ, the end might no[].

The Holl Iv Tape

"I'm lost. Out of food. Low on water. No sense of direction. Oh god... [ ]

So be[]ins The Holloway Tape—Holloway leering into the camera, a backdrop of wall, final moments in a man's life. These are jarring pieces, coherent only in the way they trace a de[]line.

Overview:

• The opening card displays a quote from Gaston Bachelard's The Poetics of Space: "The dreamer in his corner wrote off the world in a detailed daydream that destroyed, one by one, all the objects in the world." [139]

• There are thirteen parts. [ ]

• They are separated by 3-seconds of white frame. In the upper ri[]ht hand corner a number or word tracks the chronology, starting with "First," continuing with "2" thr[] "12" and ending with "Last." The typeface is the same Janson as issued by Anton Janson in Leipzig between 1660 and 1687.

• These insertions were designed by Navidson. They[ ], and in no way alter the original segments.

Navidson reproduces Holloway's tape in its entirety.

Who can forget Holloway's grizzled features as he []urns the camera on hi[]self?

No comfort now. No hope of rescue or return.

"I deserve this. I brought this all on me. But I'm s[] sorry. I'm so[ ]rry," he says in Part 2. "But what does that matter? I shot them. I shot both of [ ]em. [Long pause] Half a canteen of water's all I've left. [Another

pause] Shouldn't have let them get []way then I [ ]have returned, told

everyone they g[ ]lost . . . lost." And with that last utterance, Holloway's eyes reveal who here is real[]y lost.

Despite Holloway's undeniable guilt, not since Floyd Collins became trapped in the Kentucky Sand Cave back in 1925 has there been such a terrible instance of suffering. Co[]lins remained alive for fourteen days and nights before he died. Despite the efforts of many men to free him from the squeeze, Collins never saw the light of day again. He only felt the ink[ ]darkness and cold [ ] in on him, bind him, kill him. All he

could do was rave about angels in chariots and liver and onions and chicken sandwiches. ²⁹⁰

Unlike Floyd Collins, no straight jacket of mud and rock holds Holloway. He can still move around, though where he moves leads nowhere. By the time he begins to video tape his final hours, he has [ J ready recognized the complete hopelessness of the situation. Repeatin[] his identity seems the only mantra [ ]offers any consolation: "Holloway Roberts. Born in M[ ]om[ ]sin. Bachelor's from U. Mass." ²⁹¹ It is almost as if he believes preserving his identity on video tape can somehow hold what he is powerless to prevent: those endless contours of dark[]ess stealing the Hollow[ ] from himself. "I'm Holloway Roberts." he insists. "Born in Menomonie, Wi[ ]n. Bachelor's from U. Mass. Explorer, professional hunter,[ ]eth. [Long pause]

This is not right. It's not fair. I don't [ ]serve to die."

Regrettably, the limited amount of light, the [ juality of

tape, not to mention the constant oscillation between sharp and blurry (compliments of the Hi 8's automatic focus)[] barely c[ ]ure Holloway's bearded face let [ ]one anything else—not to imply that there exists an 'else'. Mainly a backdrop of darkness, which, as the police observed, could have [ ]en shot in any lightless room or closet. [ ]

In other words, the immen[]ity of Navidson's house eludes the frame. It exists only in Holloway's face, fear etc[ ] deeper and deeper into his features, the cost of dying paid out with p[]un[]s of flesh and e[]ch s[]allow breath. It is painfull ] obvious the creature Holloway hunts has already begun to feed on him.

290[

10.

²⁹¹ Intheepil[]gueofher bo[]k Fear Mantras (Cambridge: Harvard Un[ ]ress, 1995) Alicia Hoyle

disc[ ]ses HoIlow[]y's l[]ck of fear training: "He didn[]teven pos[]es[] the ancient Hak-Kin-Dak man[]ra" (p. [ ]6). Earlier on she provides a trans[ ]tion of this hunter's utter[]nce ([ 1 26): "I am not a fool. I a[] wise. I will run from my fear, I w[]ll out distance my f[ ]r, then I will hide fr[ ] my fear, I w[]l! wait f[]r my fear, I will let m[] fear run past me[] then I will follow my fear, I will track [ ] fear until I c[]n approach m[ ]ear in complete silence[] th[]n I will strike at m[] fear, I will charge my fe[ ], I will grab h[]ld of my fear, I will sink my f[]ngers into my [ ]ar, t[]en I will bite my fear, I w[]ll tear the thro[]t of my fear, I will bre[]k the neck of my fear, I wi[ ] drink the blood of my fear, I [ ]li gulp the flesh o[ ]my fear[] I will crush th[] bones of my f[]ar[ ]and I will savor m[] fear, I will sw[]llow my fear, all []f it, and then I will digest []y fearunt[]l lean do not[]ing else but shit out my fear.In this w[]y will I be mad[] stronger! 1