It's possible that at some point in grade school or junior high, you graced the stage for a school theater production, some simplified version of an Agatha Christie mystery or, for the older kids, a sanitized Stephen Sondheim musical. If you were still on stage (or behind it) in high school or, incredibly, in college, it's safe to say you'd become what's affectionately known as a theater kid. These are the kids who listen to original cast albums the way others stream the latest Taylor Swift; they watch the Tonys every year the way others watch the VMAs. They practice singing into hairbrushes and signing their autographs just in case they ever get the chance to greet fans at the stage door. I know all this because, I'm here to admit, I am one of them.
Which is what I loved so much about Theater Camp, a mockumentary about the very distinct experience of being a theater kid, someone who makes it so much of their identity they live it, breathe it and go away to summer camp for it. Theater Camp just gets it, which makes sense, since it's written and directed by a veritable ensemble of bona fide theater kids themselves, including Molly Gordon, Noah Galvin, Ben Platt and Nick Lieberman. An expanded adaptation of the short film of the same name, the 94-minute comedy centers on a long-standing theater camp in upstate New York and the kooky counselors who decide to jump in to help when the camp's founder falls ill and only her bro-y son Troy (Jimmy Tatro) is left to run things.
The counselors are best friends Amos (Platt) and Rebecca-Diane (Gordon), two struggling actors who once attended the camp and now teach kids the fine arts of musical theater, dramatic acting and more. Glenn (Galvin) is the camp's long-suffering stage manager who somehow manages to keep every show up and running despite a lack of resources and support; and handywoman Janet (Ayo Edebiri of The Bear) gets wrangled into teaching by a group desperate to keep the camp afloat. There's a grandstanding dance teacher and other characters about, all surrounded by the kind of kids who attend an upstate New York summer theater camp: rambunctious, outgoing little performers who are all anxious to land their first big part.
Filmed as a tongue-in-cheek mockumentary, the best thing about Theater Camp is its self-awareness and the many (many!) inside jokes theater lovers will devour. Which is why it's so disappointing when the creative team behind the film loses their way about a third of the way into the proceedings and essentially drops the mockumentary conceit all together. Christopher Guest would never.
Mediocre filmmaking aside, Theater Camp is plenty of fun, as the counselors rally to keep camp on track and absurdity after absurdity piles up. Edebiri trying to teach a masks and movement class is a particularly hilarious highlight. But it's the relationship between Amos and Rebecca-Dianne that serves as this otherwise slight film's emotional core, a connection so intwined the two can practically read each other's minds. Theirs is an intense kind of love forged through endless auditions and exhausting tech weeks, and though they each want the best for the other, there's still a part of them that will always want the best roles and opportunities for themselves. Ah, the ego.
A movie about the theater (even one perched next to a lake with cabins and a mess hall) wouldn't be complete without a big final act, and Theater Camp delivers. When Molly gets an opportunity she can't pass up, she puts Amos and the camp in a precarious situation; all this develops on the backdrop of kid auditions by some truly talented tykes and developing a new original musical that still needs to be written. It was all enough to get this one-time theater kid a little emotional despite myself.
As a study in mockumentary-style filmmaking, Theater Camp comes up short, and the creative team's relatively limited collective resume behind the camera becomes all too apparent. But what it lacks in showmanship it more than makes up for in heart and humor, and if there's one thing these troupers know, it's that the show—even a middling one like this—must go on.