Each summer, I am left chasing a high that is increasingly difficult to reach, and that high would be a little thing called “seeing matinees at 3 p.m. and walking outside afterward to feel the warmth of the sun on your skin.”
You might be thinking: “That’s easy enough: Just buy a ticket to an afternoon movie.” But that’s where you’re wrong. For this sweet summer sensation to reach maximum bliss, you must see a movie that is neither bad nor particularly good. If the film has little to no emotional impact on you at all, even better! To amplify the effect of the sun’s rays after spending two hours in a dark movie theater, one has to select a movie that is so completely inconsequential that emerging from it makes existence all the more pleasurable. Recent examples include Minions: The Rise of Gru, Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris, Where’d You Go, Bernadette—you get the idea.
This summer, we’re kicking the chase off early with Summer Camp, Castille Landon’s entry into the or Book Club hall of fame. But there isn’t as much poignancy as there should be. Mary’s strain in her loveless marriage is the film’s emotional high point, but it still struggles to resonate. Internal spats and greater life disputes are resolved with the same level of ease that ultimately makes the movie feel as idealist as leaving a real summer at camp, confident that going back to reality will be just as great and that you’ll stay in touch with all of the friends you made. It’s just not how life works. But there’s still a sweetness to that naive optimism, one that makes Summer Camp more of an ideal matinee time-waster than an appointment viewing at the cinema.
