Wet Hot American Summer

Something tells me this review will only speak to a very small, very stingy contingent.

The summer camp genre of film is a very delicate genre. Unless you attended a summer camp, preferably one of the overnight and Maine persuasion, then you may not grasp the full context of these motion pictures. So I will try my best to give you a crash course in camp before we begin. Take 400 youths ranging from 5-15 and literally bash them together like an atomizer onto a piece of land not much bigger then the Stalag 17. Cut them off from the outside world for two months without any connection to the outside world (phones, internet, newspapers, carrier pigeons). A nuclear bomb could go off over Dallas and these kids would not hear about it unless the camp director deems a full camp meeting necessary. As the days go one, the boys and the girls can't be kept away. Well, the younger ones can be kept away from each other, but once they hit double digits, the older ones become intelligent and crafty. What some would call the predecessor to marriage, camp love blossoms and an explosion of adolescent lust showers over the population. If you aren't tubing with the Australian counselors at the waterfront, then you are behind someone's bunk making out. If you aren't making pinch pots for the 14th time at pottery, something else is getting pinched in the tech booth of the Rec Center. And anyone can get it, and I mean ANYONE. One of the most overused lines to describe camp love is "You could be a total loser at home, but at camp you are the world's greatest romancer". And then as soon as it all ends, so does your life. The one that got away, the Little Heartbreakers Club, and excruciating pain are all idioms for the destruction of camp romance..................................ok, here's the review for Wet Hot American Summer.

Set in 1981 at Camp Firewood in Waterville, ME (the ways camp should be made), Wet Hot American Summer tells the story of the last day of camp and the calamities that ensue as everyone rushes to find love in all the wrong and right places. Coop (Michael Showalter) is a lanky, pasty, pretty Jewish counselor hoping to woo the Jewish princess that is Katie (Marguerite Moreau). With half a dozen stories cutting in and out of each other at different moments in the movie, WHAS gives its audience the real belief that life at camp is never a dull moment.

I have a special place in my heart for this movie because it's director and co-writer David Wain is in fact an alumni of the very same camp I went to. And while it had been denied, I believe that I have seen similarities between Camp Firewood and my very own Camp Modin. WHAS does a great job of exploring the camp mentality, to a certain extent. While counselors do not take days off for the sole purpose of mugging old women and OD'ing on heroine, they do interact with each other in very casual ways and some very intimate ways. As a counselor, I have noticed the camaraderie and companionship that was displayed in the movie with my own co-counselors. And the campers, well don't get me started about them. Nobody can ever make an accurate depiction of Jewish youth at camp, but WHAS did a damn good job. Each camper is unique; each camper has as much to contribute to the humor and excitement of every day. One scene stands out especially, one where a portly camper named Moose lights his farts with a lighter. Everyone is cheering for him and yelling out his name. That sense of community, as stupid of an example it is, is the essence of camp. Yes you can have the copious amounts of makeout sessions and amateur handjobs (at best mediocre), but the friendships you make are the real kick in the nads.

My camp friends are some of the best friends I've got. They've seen me naked and I've seen them naked. We've taken part in things that would embarrass even the most loosely moraled of people. And why? Because we are young and impressionable and defining our sense of strong brotherhood. The memories you make today are the ones that stick. And not to creep anyone out, but after spending two months in my bunk a lot of things begin sticking to you.