I’d heard just enough about Sleepaway Camp to wonder if it was so bad it was good.  I really knew nothing else going into it.  I won’t spoil the ending, but you might not thank me for that.  Two kids and their father are involved in a boating accident that leaves two of them dead.  Years later, an eccentric woman doctor is getting her son and his “cousin” ready for the summer at Camp Arawak.  Friday the 13^th vibes begin immediately, but the tone and acting are way off.  This is camp in every sense of the word.  The cousins, Ricky and Angela, arrive, but Angela doesn’t talk and doesn’t join in any camp activities.  The other kids tease her, naturally.  Ricky defends her whenever he can, but some of the other girls are the worst tormenters.  Then the murders start.  A drowning that could be accidental.  Bees in a bathroom stall with a guy who’s allergic.  Is this accidental?

Then a stabbing in the shower, definitely not an accident.  Meanwhile clueless adults can’t seem to find any connections.  They’re concerned with adult matters like keeping the camp open (it’s a business, after all.)  They don’t pay much attention to the campers.  Nor do they seem to notice when all the guys sneak out to go skinny-dipping at night.  Or that the tormenting that Angela is undergoing could be called out.  Finally, after the camp’s owner is killed—in the one impressive special effect—the police are called in and the killer is found.  The movie is known for its twist ending, and although the movie was excoriated originally, critics have come around to appreciate at least some aspects of it.  I was curious enough to give it a try, but the performances, perhaps except for Angela’s, make taking it at all seriously impossible.

That having been said, the movie is strangely effective.  Perhaps it’s because even people my age can remember what it felt like to be an adolescent, along with all the confusion and vulnerability of that age.  On a rainy weekend afternoon a little escapism can go a long way.  And formulas, just like in math class, tend to work.  There’s a reason movies like Friday the 13^th spin into so many sequels.  Even Sleepaway Camp ended up with four.  Although this was a groaner, I can’t be sure that in a moment of weakness, if I don’t have to pay for it, I might be tempted to go back to sleep-away camp with a sequel.