'Wet Hot American Summer' review by Jake Boyle
Looking back at the cast of Wet Hot American Summer, it's crazy to see how successful pretty much everybody involved with that movie has become. It seems like a minor miracle that the entire original cast has agreed to reunite for the upcoming prequel miniseries, an event that provides the perfect reason to become acquainted with one of this century's most culty indie comedies, and one last point-scoring opportunity for Paul Rudd before I get to see Ant-Man.
Wet Hot American Summer's starting territory is hormonal teenaged antics, and while it manages to obtain a fair share of genuine laughs out of hapless pursuits of the heart and groin (think more Animal House than American Pie), there's a definitively erratic tone, energetically transitioning between a multitude of characters and comedic stylings. There are silly, goofy moments interspersed with jokes about drowning children and heroin dens, and deadpan non-sequiturs. Mixing baser comedy with more abstract humour benefits both; the film can divulge in bizarre flights of fantasy and Airplane!-esque zaniness but remains grounded by the easily understood character motivations and more relaxed adult jokes. The dialogue has been confidently written and is delivered and reacted to with equal self-assurance, mostly with a straight-faced simplicity that lets the strength of the comedy speak for itself. However, this confidence also allows for incredibly exaggerated moments (Paul Rudd turns picking up a plate into a 30 second routine that had me giggling constantly) because the viewer can appreciate that the film understands subtlety, and has chosen to temporarily abandon it.
Rudd's unflappable moodiness is a piece of brilliance, and one that is matched by every member of the cast. They all possess the ability to switch from low-key to frenetic in a second, most notably David Hyde Pierce, and they gel together seamlessly. A special commendation, however, must be awarded to Christopher Meloni's intensely kooky performance as a perverted, delusional Vietnam veteran. He embeds every ridiculous line with a real sense of seething rage to beautifully contrast the absurdity of what he's saying, and steals the show with film's funniest scene, a monologue about self-acceptance that involves him talking to a tin of peas and dry-humping a fridge. Aside from these moments of unapologetic lunacy, the independent production further benefits Wet Hot American Summer by allowing for the relaxed inclusion of gay characters being intimate (rarely found nowadays, let alone in 2001) and deliberately terrible props. No matter what territory the plot strays into, the film remains permanently light (even when dealing with the aforementioned darker elements) and unsentimental, culminating in an ending that gleefully deconstructs stereotypical happy resolutions and undoes its major character arcs.
Wet Hot American Summer sold out four times on its premiere at Sundance, and it isn't hard to see why. Energetic, inventive, and unabashedly weird, it's a film that has torn up the comedy rulebook, but only after having studied it laboriously and mastered every style. Each moment of balls-to-the-wall foolishness is sandwiched by dry wit and highly self-aware writing, and the quick pace with which we move through the multitude of scenes bequeaths a aura of snappiness, although the relaxed performances of the film's fantastic ensemble never let proceedings get too out of hand. The outlandishness of it all might grate on some, especially towards the end where the craziness is ramped up to compensate for a slight running out of steam, but this is an incredibly funny movie and while the Netflix series is a risky move, it's one that I eagerly await.
Wet Hot American Summer's starting territory is hormonal teenaged antics, and while it manages to obtain a fair share of genuine laughs out of hapless pursuits of the heart and groin (think more Animal House than American Pie), there's a definitively erratic tone, energetically transitioning between a multitude of characters and comedic stylings. There are silly, goofy moments interspersed with jokes about drowning children and heroin dens, and deadpan non-sequiturs. Mixing baser comedy with more abstract humour benefits both; the film can divulge in bizarre flights of fantasy and Airplane!-esque zaniness but remains grounded by the easily understood character motivations and more relaxed adult jokes. The dialogue has been confidently written and is delivered and reacted to with equal self-assurance, mostly with a straight-faced simplicity that lets the strength of the comedy speak for itself. However, this confidence also allows for incredibly exaggerated moments (Paul Rudd turns picking up a plate into a 30 second routine that had me giggling constantly) because the viewer can appreciate that the film understands subtlety, and has chosen to temporarily abandon it.
Rudd's unflappable moodiness is a piece of brilliance, and one that is matched by every member of the cast. They all possess the ability to switch from low-key to frenetic in a second, most notably David Hyde Pierce, and they gel together seamlessly. A special commendation, however, must be awarded to Christopher Meloni's intensely kooky performance as a perverted, delusional Vietnam veteran. He embeds every ridiculous line with a real sense of seething rage to beautifully contrast the absurdity of what he's saying, and steals the show with film's funniest scene, a monologue about self-acceptance that involves him talking to a tin of peas and dry-humping a fridge. Aside from these moments of unapologetic lunacy, the independent production further benefits Wet Hot American Summer by allowing for the relaxed inclusion of gay characters being intimate (rarely found nowadays, let alone in 2001) and deliberately terrible props. No matter what territory the plot strays into, the film remains permanently light (even when dealing with the aforementioned darker elements) and unsentimental, culminating in an ending that gleefully deconstructs stereotypical happy resolutions and undoes its major character arcs.
Wet Hot American Summer sold out four times on its premiere at Sundance, and it isn't hard to see why. Energetic, inventive, and unabashedly weird, it's a film that has torn up the comedy rulebook, but only after having studied it laboriously and mastered every style. Each moment of balls-to-the-wall foolishness is sandwiched by dry wit and highly self-aware writing, and the quick pace with which we move through the multitude of scenes bequeaths a aura of snappiness, although the relaxed performances of the film's fantastic ensemble never let proceedings get too out of hand. The outlandishness of it all might grate on some, especially towards the end where the craziness is ramped up to compensate for a slight running out of steam, but this is an incredibly funny movie and while the Netflix series is a risky move, it's one that I eagerly await.
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