I had a college roommate who worked at a summer camp in New Hampshire. He claimed the biggest job he had to undertake was preventing the thirteen-year-old boys from dying of masturbation exhaustion. It’s not hard to imagine, given just a little taste of the hormonal teenage woes we saw in the documentary, Summercamp! Pair that with the bored, embittered counselors, the painfully awkward first-year campers and the “oh my god, how can you be this happy” camp owners and you have the stuff of a good documentary.
But somehow, it all fizzles in Summercamp.
Don’t get me wrong, there was great opportunity here. I was rapt with the bully who beat up other campers then cried every night because he missed his mommy. I loved seeing the camp counselors cockblocking lusty teenagers in the darkened shadows of the campfire. And who couldn’t be moved by the weird girl who carries around eight stuffed animals in her pockets to talk to when she gets lonely?
This was a movie of delicious subject matter put in what appears to be the hands of first-time film school students. It missed so much great opportunity to build a tantalizing story and the result felt like little more than a camcorder turned on and left in the corner.
But even inept film-making couldn’t dampen some moments of splendor in Summercamp, mostly captured through the unbidden moments of truth when campers spoke about life at home. Take the young boy saying he never wanted camp to end because when he goes back home, his dad is a lawyer so he’ll never see him much anyway. Or the girl who explains plainly that her parents want her to make friends at camp since she hasn’t been able to make any at home.
Such moments of innocent truth were heartbreakingly honest. I can only imagine how the parents of these children felt upon watching the film. I’d lay odds those kids got some big fat “mommy and daddy are sorry we’re a mess” presents under the Christmas tree that year.
My final take? Rent it if you’re just looking to feel mildly amused. You know, the same way you feel when you’re cruising through TV channels and you find yourself laughing at America’s Funniest Home Videos and then you’re overcome by shame and horror as you realize you were just watching America’s Funniest Home Videos. Don’t lie. We’ve all been there.
Showing posts with label hormones. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hormones. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Week 5: Bonus film: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
[Blogger note: I'm sorry, my dearest Netflix, but even your speedy disc delivery cannot make the new Harry Potter movie magically appear in my mailbox just days after it premieres in theaters. So, it is with heavy heart that I admit I cheated on you and went to the theater. But don't worry, love, I'm coming right back to your red-enveloped arms tonight.]
Is it wrong to admit that I have a crush on the dark lord? Is that bad? Because I'm sorry, even with pasty skin, a missing nose and the whole evil wizard business, I still feel a little steamy towards one mister Fiennes. And no, I'm not talking about you, Joseph, you runt of the Fiennes litter.
I think it must be his voice that makes me knees go all wobbly. Or the fact that he took the world's worst name, Ralph, and turned it into something dark and mysterious. Rafe. The pronunciation makes no sense at all, but I love it. And I'm even willing to look past the "alleged' in-flight dalliance he had with a stewardess on a recent Quantas flight. [Mental note: start flying Quantas].
But enough about my dark lord and onto a much less savory subject from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix: Ron Weasley. Be warned, audiences, Ron Weasley is the real monster in this film. Between Goblet of Fire and Order, our boy Weasley's most awkward moments in puberty unfold on screen before our eyes and THEY ARE NOT PRETTY. I was physically uncomfortable seeing his face forty-feet tall on the big screen. Hormones are not your friend, Ron-Ron. And if I know one thing for certain in this world, it's that prom night is going to be very unkind to Ron Weasley.
Harry Potter, on the other hand, aside from the fact that he appears to be approximately 42" tall, is turning out to be a handsome young lad. He actually managed to look tough in a few scenes, reaching up to scrap at the other actors' kneecaps as he was.
I could tell you how marvelous the rest of the Order cast is, particularly Immelda Staunton as Dolores Umbridge, but you've read all that before. [Although nobody quite prepared me for how hilarious her wardrobe would be or the whole business of her office being decked out in live kitties.]
The movie is very enjoyable, but neither of us liked it as well as the previous movie. Order of the Phoenix seemed like a duplicate effort of the dark style and grim mood set up by Alfonso Cuaron in Azkaban. It was nice enough, but by this point, we've seen all the visual tricks and we're really there for the story, which they cut a ton out of in this film. I came home from the theater and picked up the book to begin re-reading it, because I want to remember all the parts that were only hinted at in the film.
I would recommend you do the same, if for no other reason than the fact that you will not see Ron Weasley's forty-foot tall face inside the book. Only in your mind. Where it will HAUNT YOU.
Is it wrong to admit that I have a crush on the dark lord? Is that bad? Because I'm sorry, even with pasty skin, a missing nose and the whole evil wizard business, I still feel a little steamy towards one mister Fiennes. And no, I'm not talking about you, Joseph, you runt of the Fiennes litter.
I think it must be his voice that makes me knees go all wobbly. Or the fact that he took the world's worst name, Ralph, and turned it into something dark and mysterious. Rafe. The pronunciation makes no sense at all, but I love it. And I'm even willing to look past the "alleged' in-flight dalliance he had with a stewardess on a recent Quantas flight. [Mental note: start flying Quantas].
But enough about my dark lord and onto a much less savory subject from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix: Ron Weasley. Be warned, audiences, Ron Weasley is the real monster in this film. Between Goblet of Fire and Order, our boy Weasley's most awkward moments in puberty unfold on screen before our eyes and THEY ARE NOT PRETTY. I was physically uncomfortable seeing his face forty-feet tall on the big screen. Hormones are not your friend, Ron-Ron. And if I know one thing for certain in this world, it's that prom night is going to be very unkind to Ron Weasley.
Harry Potter, on the other hand, aside from the fact that he appears to be approximately 42" tall, is turning out to be a handsome young lad. He actually managed to look tough in a few scenes, reaching up to scrap at the other actors' kneecaps as he was.
I could tell you how marvelous the rest of the Order cast is, particularly Immelda Staunton as Dolores Umbridge, but you've read all that before. [Although nobody quite prepared me for how hilarious her wardrobe would be or the whole business of her office being decked out in live kitties.]
The movie is very enjoyable, but neither of us liked it as well as the previous movie. Order of the Phoenix seemed like a duplicate effort of the dark style and grim mood set up by Alfonso Cuaron in Azkaban. It was nice enough, but by this point, we've seen all the visual tricks and we're really there for the story, which they cut a ton out of in this film. I came home from the theater and picked up the book to begin re-reading it, because I want to remember all the parts that were only hinted at in the film.
I would recommend you do the same, if for no other reason than the fact that you will not see Ron Weasley's forty-foot tall face inside the book. Only in your mind. Where it will HAUNT YOU.
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