Alex BBats here, and today is the 10th birthday of one of my all time favorite films.
Watching a film can be a relatively light affair. Simple plots, easy jokes, characters who follow archetypes to the tee. A.O. Scott recently proposed that more challenging and unconventional films, such as Bela Tarr’s Turin Horse, might expand a moviegoers palate and appetite for cinema. Occasionally a film brings the viewer into a lawless land, not one filled with bandits, but a can of vegetables who happens to be a Vietnam Veteran, a boy who can create gusts, and haystacks able to block a motorcycle. Wet Hot American Summer (2001) challenges the viewer with absurdity, its reward being pure bliss.
Wet Hot American Summer is bedazzled to the brim with details: funny posters, extras dancing, strange gestures, or that fantastic breaking glass sound effect. I’ve seen Wet Hot American Summer over 30 times and always find, or am given, something new to smile at. (This latest playthrough, I heard a small, impressed gasp that the talent show MC hailed from the Catskill Mountains resort circuit and Amy Pohler whispering “This is terrible” during the Godspell number.)
Depth is rare in film and rarer in comedy. David Wain and the company put there all into making this film the best possible. There's a youthful vigor to the movie, which is especially considering that twenty and thirtysomethings are playing teenagers. Every scene in Wet Hot American Summer has something unexpected. The actors don’t sell the jokes, they own and share them. You can tell everyone had an amazing time on the set. Eighty percent of the cast (or thereabouts) went on to become A-list actors. (Bradley Cooper gets a permapass because of this film). Even the kid that gets tossed out of the van has an amazing resume.
Nathaniel once described Rachel Getting Married as “Nathaniel Getting Hugged.” I feel that Wet Hot American Summer is Alex Getting Loved Passionately. I’ll snuggle up with Wet Hot American Summer any season.
Also, Sluts Rock.