What would be the last theatrically released movie to qualify as an ensemble comedy? Not a movie that was born out of a major studio roping together a group of big-name comedic actors, but something that felt more grassroots, like the personal relationships and shared sensibilities between creators and cast were the reason for the script's existence. It seems we'd need to reach back to the 2000s for proper examples.
The work of actor, writer and director Christopher Guest still stands as some of the most beloved within the ensemble comedy tradition, 1996's Waiting for Guffman being the contribution that first rallied his troupe of favourite collaborators — which included Parker Posey, Eugene Levy, Catherine O'Hara and Fred Willard, among others — and 2006's For Your Consideration being the last to get a theatrical release. Between those two, there was the 2001 sleeper hit by David Wain, Wet Hot American Summer, which, like Guest's films, became embraced as a foundational text for comedy enthusiasts and played a role in launching the careers of some of the following decades' best comedic actors.
Theater Camp — the new feature film written by Noah Galvin, Molly Gordon, Nick Lieberman and Ben Platt — sits squarely within the intersecting legacies of those cult classics, brimming with a reverence for their styles, their process and their subject matter. On a conceptual level, Theater Camp perfectly positions itself to pay homage to its cinematic influences: it's where the over-serious aspiring actors and mockumentary structure of Waiting for Guffman meets the summer camp antics and questionable authority figures of Wet Hot.
Though the movie starts by explaining, via narration cards, that the documentary initially intended to follow Joan Rubinsky (Amy Sedaris), the founder and director of an Upstate New York theatre camp called AdirondACTS, that plan is quickly derailed when she falls into a coma right after filming begins. She suffers a seizure in what is described as "the first Bye Bye Birdie-related injury," and when she falls to the ground, the person aiding her makes sure to shout to the audience that Joan's convulsions are not part of the show. The film is filled with these kinds of loving digs at theatre people, aimed at how everything in their lives can take on the magnitude of dramatic performance, eclipsing other modes of being.
And how could you blame them? What the movie does so well is show how its characters are steeped in theatre culture from such a young age: the kids roll up to camp with Waitress and Liza Minnelli posters in their bags; their staff tell them scary bedtime stories about actors being turned away from auditions for being non-union; they're taught that they must have complete knowledge of a character's traumas and allergies before they can successfully inhabit that role. For whichever details one might feel inclined to reject as comedic exaggeration, rest assured there are theatre people out there who can attest to having witnessed equally or more over-the-top behaviour than what is depicted in the movie — not least its own writers.
While doing press for Theater Camp, Galvin, Gordon, Lieberman and Platt have sketched out a detailed map of all the youth programs and institutions that first introduced them to acting and to each other. This deep history is acknowledged in the movie's opening montage, which shows grainy real-life footage of some of the main cast members performing in theatre productions as children. In one clip, a kid swigs from an oversized beer bottle, flashing evidence of the kind of beyond-their-years material that is often assigned in youth theatre.
After seeing that, it doesn't seem too far-fetched that AdirondACTS would have put on original plays titled Blackmail and Botox and A Hanukkah Divorce, or that Gordon's character, a pseudo-mystical acting teacher with the perfect name of Rebecca-Diane, would assign a vocal exercise to her campers that revolves around enunciating "Al Gore" and "Wolf Blitzer." It makes sense that Platt's character, Amos — who, for many years, has remained fiercely dedicated to his role of teaching alongside Rebecca-Diane at the camp — would snap at one kid who failed to believably portray someone with IBS, asking, "Did Julianne Moore really have dementia?"
These teachers were once theatre kids themselves, and after not making it very far in their careers, they carry an envy and seriousness that can often be misplaced. It gives the movie something great to mine for humour, while also infusing certain scenes with pathos. In a particularly moving one, Glenn (Galvin) — the camp's sole, overextended stage manager — breaks out into a lengthy dance sequence while teaching kids how to manoeuvre a spotlight, betraying, as he twirls about the stage, that his yearning to perform still lies dormant in him. And we see that same yearning cause a rift within Rebecca-Diane and Amos's co-dependent friendship, as he's forced to confront that her allegiance to teaching at AdirondACTS with him might be splitting.
As much as this movie commits itself to celebrating the world of theatre — the quirks of its teachers, students and material — it also commits itself to unlocking the magic of a well-executed ensemble comedy. Several roles in Theater Camp were written with particular people in mind, knowing that their sensibilities would complement the story and that their humour would lead to brilliant improvisations.
Jimmy Tatro is perfect as Joan's son, Troy, who postures online as a fiscally savvy entrepreneur but needs to look up what "repossession" means when he learns AdirondACTS is at risk of foreclosure. Patti Harrison, whose humour always seems to be operating on its own hilarious plane, plays up the contrast of portraying a scheming financier who wields business jargon awkwardly. And despite not having a ton of screen time, Ayo Edebiri and Owen Thiele both incited some of the biggest laughs at my screening, the former as someone who lied on her resume to get a job at the camp and the latter as an equally unserious costume designer.
That Theater Camp holds together so well, when all these actors were given freedom to improvise, is a testament to this ensemble's chemistry and heralds a promising new class of comedic stars.
(Searchlight Pictures)The work of actor, writer and director Christopher Guest still stands as some of the most beloved within the ensemble comedy tradition, 1996's Waiting for Guffman being the contribution that first rallied his troupe of favourite collaborators — which included Parker Posey, Eugene Levy, Catherine O'Hara and Fred Willard, among others — and 2006's For Your Consideration being the last to get a theatrical release. Between those two, there was the 2001 sleeper hit by David Wain, Wet Hot American Summer, which, like Guest's films, became embraced as a foundational text for comedy enthusiasts and played a role in launching the careers of some of the following decades' best comedic actors.
Theater Camp — the new feature film written by Noah Galvin, Molly Gordon, Nick Lieberman and Ben Platt — sits squarely within the intersecting legacies of those cult classics, brimming with a reverence for their styles, their process and their subject matter. On a conceptual level, Theater Camp perfectly positions itself to pay homage to its cinematic influences: it's where the over-serious aspiring actors and mockumentary structure of Waiting for Guffman meets the summer camp antics and questionable authority figures of Wet Hot.
Though the movie starts by explaining, via narration cards, that the documentary initially intended to follow Joan Rubinsky (Amy Sedaris), the founder and director of an Upstate New York theatre camp called AdirondACTS, that plan is quickly derailed when she falls into a coma right after filming begins. She suffers a seizure in what is described as "the first Bye Bye Birdie-related injury," and when she falls to the ground, the person aiding her makes sure to shout to the audience that Joan's convulsions are not part of the show. The film is filled with these kinds of loving digs at theatre people, aimed at how everything in their lives can take on the magnitude of dramatic performance, eclipsing other modes of being.
And how could you blame them? What the movie does so well is show how its characters are steeped in theatre culture from such a young age: the kids roll up to camp with Waitress and Liza Minnelli posters in their bags; their staff tell them scary bedtime stories about actors being turned away from auditions for being non-union; they're taught that they must have complete knowledge of a character's traumas and allergies before they can successfully inhabit that role. For whichever details one might feel inclined to reject as comedic exaggeration, rest assured there are theatre people out there who can attest to having witnessed equally or more over-the-top behaviour than what is depicted in the movie — not least its own writers.
While doing press for Theater Camp, Galvin, Gordon, Lieberman and Platt have sketched out a detailed map of all the youth programs and institutions that first introduced them to acting and to each other. This deep history is acknowledged in the movie's opening montage, which shows grainy real-life footage of some of the main cast members performing in theatre productions as children. In one clip, a kid swigs from an oversized beer bottle, flashing evidence of the kind of beyond-their-years material that is often assigned in youth theatre.
After seeing that, it doesn't seem too far-fetched that AdirondACTS would have put on original plays titled Blackmail and Botox and A Hanukkah Divorce, or that Gordon's character, a pseudo-mystical acting teacher with the perfect name of Rebecca-Diane, would assign a vocal exercise to her campers that revolves around enunciating "Al Gore" and "Wolf Blitzer." It makes sense that Platt's character, Amos — who, for many years, has remained fiercely dedicated to his role of teaching alongside Rebecca-Diane at the camp — would snap at one kid who failed to believably portray someone with IBS, asking, "Did Julianne Moore really have dementia?"
These teachers were once theatre kids themselves, and after not making it very far in their careers, they carry an envy and seriousness that can often be misplaced. It gives the movie something great to mine for humour, while also infusing certain scenes with pathos. In a particularly moving one, Glenn (Galvin) — the camp's sole, overextended stage manager — breaks out into a lengthy dance sequence while teaching kids how to manoeuvre a spotlight, betraying, as he twirls about the stage, that his yearning to perform still lies dormant in him. And we see that same yearning cause a rift within Rebecca-Diane and Amos's co-dependent friendship, as he's forced to confront that her allegiance to teaching at AdirondACTS with him might be splitting.
As much as this movie commits itself to celebrating the world of theatre — the quirks of its teachers, students and material — it also commits itself to unlocking the magic of a well-executed ensemble comedy. Several roles in Theater Camp were written with particular people in mind, knowing that their sensibilities would complement the story and that their humour would lead to brilliant improvisations.
Jimmy Tatro is perfect as Joan's son, Troy, who postures online as a fiscally savvy entrepreneur but needs to look up what "repossession" means when he learns AdirondACTS is at risk of foreclosure. Patti Harrison, whose humour always seems to be operating on its own hilarious plane, plays up the contrast of portraying a scheming financier who wields business jargon awkwardly. And despite not having a ton of screen time, Ayo Edebiri and Owen Thiele both incited some of the biggest laughs at my screening, the former as someone who lied on her resume to get a job at the camp and the latter as an equally unserious costume designer.
That Theater Camp holds together so well, when all these actors were given freedom to improvise, is a testament to this ensemble's chemistry and heralds a promising new class of comedic stars.