Trinity Film Review - The Camp Issue

acknowledgements

Editors

Katie McKenna

Cat Earley

Eve Smith

James Mahon

Contributors

Cat Earley

Nora Wittman

Alex Culliton

Katie McKenna

Eleanor Moseley

Ellen Rafferty

Eve Smith

Diarmiud O’Dwyer

Lily McCarthy

Sarah Murnane

Finn Brannigan

Isabella Wood

Lauren Madigan

Leah Kelly

Chiara Gregor

Victoria Carton

James Mahon

Rachel Heaney

Niamh O’Donnell

Design & Cover Art

Eve Smith

This publication is partially funded by the DU Trinity Publications Committee. This publication holds no special rights or priviledges. All serious complaints may be directed towards chair@trinitypublications.ie or Chair, Trinity Publications, House 6, Trinity College, Dublin 2. Appeals may be directed to the Press Council.

Recently, the film magazine Sight & Sound released their once-a-decade 100 Greatest Films of All Time poll. This decade’s poll had everyone asking a lot of questions, most notably: “Is Ti West a film bro?”. However, when I read the poll, I had a question I often have when reading Greatest Film lists: “Where’s the fun?”. When I talk about films I sound like a broken record, I find myself constantly repeating the phrase; “Films should make you feel something!”. And they should, but why can’t that something be joy?

Often critics only praise the serious films, ones that are phenomenal but sad, The Citizen Kanes (Orson Welles, 1941) and Schindler’s Lists (Steven Spielberg, 1994). While these may be the films that keep us in love with cinema, they’re not what started the infatuation. Everyone who writes for this magazine, or about film at all, one day sat down and watched a film, and then another, and then another, until they were hooked. And what started that cycle was joy, the pleasure from one film made us crave more, until we were ready to watch the films that make our top ten lists. Our pretentious back catalogue of films we name drop in conversations to look smart wouldn’t exist without the uncool ones that made us laugh and smile. Those movies represent the true magic of cinema. That’s what this issue is celebrating. Films that may not be the best, a lot could arguably be the worst, that are filled with love and joy. Films that despite their poor production or script quality, lit a fire within us, made us think and feel something. Films who had all the qualities of a stinker, but still made us love them. Because, the merit of a film isn’t found in how many awards it won, or how many top 10 lists it has been mentioned in, but in how many people it lit a spark within.

editor’s

Happy Reading, Katie

Who Made Prestige T V Camp?

Cat Earley

Arguably beginning with David Chase’s The Sopranos in the late 1990s and peaking with the likes of Breaking Bad (2008-2013), Mad Men (20072015), and the first seasons of Game of Thrones (2011-2019), ‘The Golden Age of Television’ is a term meant to apply to a specific era of television programmes that surpassed previous notions about their quality or artistry that dominated their perceived reputation throughout the 20th century.

Following the reign of episodic sitcoms and popcorn television shows that defined the small screen for much of its history, Prestige TV introduced a newfound depth and structure to a media that was previously unheard of to be anything deeper than background noise for the sitting room. In more recent years, shows such as HBO’s Succession (2018-) and Netflix’s Better Call Saul (2015-2022) have been showered with praise as much-needed bursts of creative light through the dystopian streaming clouds of the 2020s - but there has been an interesting catch to this celebration that, to some, may seem unforeseen.

To search for Breaking Bad on Google, Twitter, Reddit, or TikTok in the year 2022 will almost definitely yield a torrent of “Jesse, we need to cook!” memes, thinkpiece tweets on Walter White’s financial contributions to Jesse Pinkman’s top surgery, and repurposed camp Gustavo Fring posts from 2011 - definitely an unexpected outcome for an early 2000s Breaking Bad fan looking to revisit one of their favourite shows. So, how is it that a comedy trend like this could come to be?

As many art historians have noted, absurdism is a trend in art that tends to follow historical periods of high art and sincerity - Dadaism rising throughout and after the First World War, for example. Absurdism is a movement that seems to negate traditional artistic values and make meaning out of irrationality, artistic traits that may not seem unexpected in a generation raised in the shadow of the climate crisis and the haze of rapid social media success.

Mad Men, 2007

Researchers have been observing this phenomenon on social media as of late, with a rise in Gen Z popularity surrounding reels and videos with a particularly absurdist or surreal angle. TikTok in particular has become a platform notorious lately for Succession edits and Breaking Bad reenactment clips, many of which have been said to be the source of a newfound increase in interest and viewership among Gen Z in these Prestige TV shows.

The Campification, as it is found here, is not so much a deliberate attempt to provide analysis on Prestige TV, but an earnest attempt from a younger generation to engage with it.

“

Unlike the gritty, sullen original style of The Sopranos sought after and spawned by a generation of young people shrouded in nihilism and bitterness, Breaking Bad has found itself in the complicated position of still being culturally relevant in an era where to rebel is to oddify, to strangify, and to campify. The widespread posts and edits decrying Tom Wambsgans and Greg Hirsch as a couple, or dubbing Jesse Pinkman as a trans icon, have begun to transform Prestige TV into an LGBT outlet where previously these themes were almost always relegated to being

Prestige TV introduced a newfound depth and structure to a media that was previously unheard of to be anything deeper than background noise for the sitting room. “

were almost always relegated to being discussed in more ‘low-art’ TV shows. The Campification of Prestige TV has opened the door to younger generations becoming involved with well thought out, structured, and critically-acclaimed media while simultaneously removing it from the stuffy, pretentious smoke it usually comes hand-in-hand with.

Breaking Bad, 2008

Succession, 2018

The World of Action Movies: is it Camp?

The World of Action Movies:

The overblown spectacularism in western action movies is one of the most known features of the genre. The fireworks-like explosions, high budget props, cars, a mind-blowing number of military supplies, and most importantly the male action hero, are all visually pleasing elements. Although it is intended to display hypermasculinity, the exposed, suffering white male body, seems to be the center piece for the viewer to look at (Tasker 1993). Stylistically the American action genre is visually overexaggerated and has a high emphasis on visual spectacle. This tendency shows similarities with the basic elements of camp. Jack Babuscio summarizes – further developing Sontag´s camp manifesto (Sontag 1964) - the four main features of camp style and tone as - irony, aestheticism, theatricality, and humor (Babuscio 1999). Where does a mainstream action movie stand when it comes to these features?

The opening scene of The Gray Man (Russo and Russo, 2022) gives a short insight of the recruitment of Six (Ryan Gosling) into the secret group of agents by commuting his prison sentence. The movie jumps 18 years later right in the middle of a secret mission in Bangkok. An immense number of fireworks, works, sparklers, colorful lights and costumes and a heavily lit up city occupy the frame before we see Sixagain, sitting calmly, as a clear figure surrounded by blurry celebrations.

The Gray Man, 2022

Nóra Wittmann

He walks into a room and slowly prepares to eliminate his anonymous target. Professional and experienced, he takes off his blazer and puts together a rifle almost as huge as his emphasized muscular arms. His team advises him to eliminate the target, but as the camera carefully travels through several floors of vibrantly colored sequences of the celebrating masses, he demonstrates his disciplined morals by refusing to shoot because a child is standing in the way of the bullet. The crowd begins to count down from ten for the new year and at the same time building tension for a countdown for the gunshot. His team and the viewer are left tense as he doesn´t fulfill the mission as it was planned. More fireworks, balloons, a 3-floor high decorated cake, blue and pink hues distract the guests and the viewer while he fights off ´the bad guys´ and finally meets the target. The fight sequence is quickly edited and captured with dynamic and fast camera movements. As the two men engage in a close battle, he overcomes the enemy and stabs him.

whether The Gray Man can be considered a camp film? There is a subtle humor present in the film in moments - such as Six realizing he ran out of ammunition in the middle of a gunfight, complimented by Gosling’s mimical acting. The contrast between his minimalistic acting, and the over-the-top visual and narrative style, generally provides comedic relief. But as Bruce LaBruce argues irony has been so commercialized by popular culture, that ´everything ´has an ironical tone today’, but it doesn´t necessarily hold the gay sensibility anymore which Sontag was writing about (LaBruce 03/2012).

In the movie´s case, using LaBruce´s terminology, The Gray Man can be considered ´bad straight camp´. On a surface level it does display the stylistic and tonal features of camp, but eventually it reenforces heteronormative gender ideas, capitalism, materialism and lacks an underlying sophistication of gay sensibility. Hence the ¨secret signification that were developed out of necessity by the underground or outsider gay world” (LaBruce 03/2012). witnesses a well-established and respected actor Ryan Gosling exhibiting his adored sculpturesque body and his calm earnest persona. His fans, who are familiar with his acting style and private personal life, get to see a Six´s character on screen matching the fantasy of their idolized star. Tasker argues that the male star´s body put on display in action movies is a sexual spectacle (Tasker 1993). Gosling with his well-known and critically acknowledged talent, his muscular build and charm are widely desired masculine features in pop-culture, and these features are highlighted and exaggerated in The Gray Man.

This short, barely more than 10-minute opening scene, sets the tone for the entire film and provides a strong introduction to the hero. Yvonne Tasker points out in her book the importance of the star image in action movies. The hero presents the essence of the star and his off-screen features of talent and masculinity. In The Gray Man, the viewer essentiallynesses a well-established and respected actor Ryan Gosling exhibiting his adored sculpturesque body and his calm earnest persona. and his calm earnest persona. His fans, who are familiar with his acting style and private personal life, get to see a Six´s character on screen matching the fantasy of their idolized star. Tasker argues that the male star´s body put on display in action movies is a sexual spectacle (Tasker 1993). Gosling with his well-known and critically acknowledged talent, his muscular build and charm are widely desired masculine features in pop-culture, and these features are highlighted and exaggerated in The Gray Man. Considering the excessive aestheticism and overemphasized gender features throughout, one questions

Considering the excessive aestheticism and overemphasized gender features throughout, one questions whether The Gray Man can be considered a camp film? There is a subtle humor present in the film in moments - such as Six realizing he ran out of ammunition in the middle of a gunfight, complimented by Gosling’s mimical acting. The contrast between his minimalistic acting, and the over-the-top visual and narrative style, generally provides comedic relief. But as Bruce LaBruce argues irony has been so commercialized by popular culture, that ´everything ´has an ironical tone today’, but it doesn´t necessarily hold the gay sensibility anymore which Sontag was writing about (LaBruce 03/2012).

In the movie´s case, using LaBruce´s terminology, The Gray Man can be considered ´bad straight camp´. On a surface level it does display the stylistic and tonal features of camp, but eventually it reenforces heteronormative gender ideas, capitalism, materialism and lacks an underlying sophistication of gay sensibility. Hence the ¨secret signification that were developed out of necessity by the underground or outsider gay world” (LaBruce 03/2012).

“Stylistically the America action genre is visually overexaggerated and has a high emphasis on visual spectacle. This tendency shows similarities with the basic elements of camp. ”

Vintage Hollywood:

Camp By Another Name

Alex Culliton

The classic interpretation of campness in films implied some kind of provocative, ‘so bad it’s good’ vibe to said film. However, with a broader understanding of what campness is and how it fits into a film, this gives us the chance to analyse and explore a whole host of classic Hollywood comedy gold. I wish to discuss two films today; One, Two, Three (1961) by Billy Wilder and Frank

Capra’s timeless classic Mr Deeds Goes to Town (1936)

Previously defined as a screwball, One, Two, Three offers a bizarre twist on the social and cultural divide that existed in Berlin in the early 1960’s. C.R. MacNamara (James Cagney) , a disgraced Coca-Cola executive who aims to make his company the first US conglomerate

to break the iron curtain and set up business in the Eastern bloc, falls into a bother when his boss’ daughter Scarlet Hazeltine (Pamela Tiffin) ends up falling in love and marrying a Communist (Horst Buchholz). With a clock ticking, he masterminds a plan to westernise and evangelize etiquette into the stubborn gentleman in question, Otto Piffl. With personal issues, a pregnancy and marriage to hide from his boss and political favours to dodge, this film is sure a hoot and definitely could be classified as a screwball. But is it camp? To broaden our definition of camp to an overtly dramatic non-musical comedy; I would argue that the uncharacteristic choice of hardman James Cagney for this role, a blend of corny jokes and a fast-paced story with exciting background music, this light-hearted comedy with multiple storylines merging together to work against the titular character in a role the veteran actor would’ve deemed as beneath him prior to production makes this film ooze with campiness.

Another classic we need to discuss is Frank Capra’s Mr Deeds Goes to Town. Written during and in the background of the great depression, the poverty and instability of the bread lines and in the background of the great depression, the poverty and instability of the bread lines contrasts the luxury and overt wealth of the elite, combining that with Gary Cooper’s lack of trust for the people he received after a relative’s death put him in an uncomfortable situation. While viewed by many as a humanitarian dramatic comedy, it also has the covert requirements of being considered camp. The peasant-like mindset of Copper’s character butting heads with the lavish and seemingly foolish lifestyle of the elite of New York after a stock market crash which battered a nation adds farce to this tragic comedy.

However, his performance of a regular Joe in an irregular environment makes it so he eventually feels comfortable enough to tell the fakefriends he has made to suck it; he doesn’t need them or their money, which is the only thing that interests them. The camp factor comes in the final act with the quiet and uncomfortable Mr Deeds (Cooper) standing up and in the face of all the yeomen of New York he despises, he out-camps them all with a riveting “we are all crazy” speech in which he portrays himself as the only normal person in the room.

These two movies, along with countless movies like them from Hollywood’s golden era, offer a rare glimpse into the covertly- camp characteristics of the greats of the silver screen. While they would’ve been considered screwballs in their day, our modern interpretations of camp has allowed these movies to be viewed in a new light.

Mr.Deeds Goes to Town, 1936

“

He out-camps them all with a riveting “we are all crazy” speech in which he portrays himself as the only normal person in the room. “

“Out, Out, Brief Candle”:

Why Can’t Camp Last?

Media nerds like to argue when the turning point was for television. Was it The Sopranos (David Chase, 1999-2007), Oz (Tom Fontana, 19972003) or The Wire (David Simon, 2002-2008) that established tv as an art form, rather than simply entertainment? However, it can’t be argued that the 2010s is when tv flourished. During this decade we were treated to some of the best shows that networks had to offer. From the intimate character studies such as Mad Men (Matthew Weiner, 2007-2015) to grand epics such as Game of Thrones (David Benioff and D. B. Weiss, 20112019), television was a tour de force, arguably surpassing film in quality. However, when mentioning the best shows of the decade there’s often a classic left out. A show which had the best pilot of tv’s golden age, which redefined a genre, broke ground for minority representation, and then disappeared. Started with a bang and ended with a fizzle. Whatever happened to Glee?(Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk and Ian Brennan, 2009-2015)

Where do you begin with Glee? Its first few seasons follow the eccentric members of a high school show choir in Midwest America, so you could say that’s what Glee is about.

But that doesn’t feel right. One of its most iconic characters the scathing Sue Sylvester (Jane Lynch) isn’t a member of the choir. Glee became famous for its covers of modern pop songs and show tunes. So, you could say Glee is a musical experience. This feels closer, except their covers are pretty terrible. When I rewatch Glee, I skip the songs, and I still enjoy the show just as much. Glee is notorious for its crazy situations and jarring one liners. Scenes like the Britney Spears sex riot, seeing Jesus Christ on a cheese toastie, or Quinn (Dianna Agron) and Santana’s (Naya Rivera) hallway fight (just Google it and thank me later), have fundamentally altered mine and many other people’s brain chemistry. One-liners that are equally hilarious and ridiculous, extreme over the top situations, that’s what Glee is. Glee is camp.

There’s a certain respect for most camp films, The Rocky Horror Picture Show (Jim Sharman, 1975) is screened in cinemas all over the world at Halloween.

Katie McKenna

Glee, 2009

These films may not win Academy Awards, but they’re still loved and talked about decades after they were released. This isn’t the case with Glee, which is losing relevance with every passing day.

I have to admit I lied earlier; I know exactly where to start with Glee. It’s what I think of whenever Glee is mentioned, and often when it isn’t. Santana, a mean girl cheerleader, sits down with her grandmother. Her usually bitchy, bombastic confidence is gone, she’s quiet, it’s weird Santana is never quiet. Then slowly, and with care she comes out of the closet. “I love girls the way that I’m supposed to feel about boys. It’s something that’s always been inside of me.” This is a moment that really did change my brain chemistry. It caused an emotional reaction that wasn’t just a chuckle. I felt something that I could not put into words until later in my life. There’s a term in tv called ‘Flanderization’, which basically describes how over time certain traits of characters get continuously overexaggerated until it becomes their

entire characterisation. Think of its namesake, Ned Flanders (Harry Shearer) who started out as the Simpson family’s kind neighbour who happened to be religious, and slowly morphed into a complete bible nut.

When Glee came out, it was initially praised for how witty it was. So over time it had to become wittier. The public was talking about how wacky the situations in the show were, so the writers had to think of wackier ones. Witty and wacky is all well and good, it draws people in. But it doesn’t make them stay. Emotion does, care for the characters does. When someone not familiar with the rules of writing or film making watch a bad film, they

they don’t like it, they may not be able to tell you what exactly is wrong, but they feel it in their gut. We take the building blocks of good storytelling for granted. Glee took the building blocks of good storytelling for granted. When Glee started out, it was a high school dramedy, it covered serious issues like teen pregnancy, coping with disabilities, bullying, growing up gay in a camp fashion. But it always took the time to pause and treat the issues with the respect they deserved. However, as it went on, its need to be camper killed it. It was a Flanderization of a Flanderization. Watching it was becoming more and more like eating fast food; a kind of enjoyable experience that left you feeling nothing, except maybe a bit queasy. Camp can never really last, because camp should never really last. If allowed it grows and grows, taking over all other aspects of the story, there’s no room left for character development, heartfelt moments, or relatability. Flanderized characters at some point stop being people and become punchlines. One single trait takes them over, like a parasite, a character you were once fond of becomes one you dread to see on screen. All their life sucked out of them, we all know Ned is going to say something crazy about God, let’s just get it over with. Near the beginning of Glee, Santana explains why she’s a mean girl. It’s because she’s angry. She’s angry because she knows she’s gay and hates herself for it. It’s a feeling that I and many other gay people know all too well. At the end of Glee, Santana is a mean girl because it’s funny, because it’s camp. This is the fate given to every character in the show, they are the way they are because it’s camp. All their complexity and nuance stripped from them for a cheap laugh. Glee was forgotten because it stopped giving us anything to remember. It sold its soul to the camp Gods, a bad move made by too many tv shows. Because camp may make us like a show, but it’s the emotion underneath that’ll make us love it.

Capitalising on Camp: The Glory of But I’m a Cheerleader.

Moseley

At once both a knife-sharp satire and a heart-warming romantic comedy, Jamie Babbit’s 1999 cult classic But I’m A Cheerleader has long enchanted audiences with its powerful visuality and hilarious irony. The film follows all-American cheerleader sweetheart Megan (Natasha Lyonne), and her journey through the absurd conversion therapy program ‘True Directions’ after an intervention by family and friends. The film takes a hilarious turn when ‘True Directions’ turns out to be an outrageous camp candy-land, rendered with lavish set design and an Andersonian use of colour. The director of ‘True Directions’, Mary (Cathy Moriarty) is accompanied by teacher Mike, a self-proclaimed ‘ex-gay’ (played by RuPaul, a brilliantly self-aware casting choice), as they drill the unwiling participants of

the camp through various courses and exercises in in an attempt to “heal them”. Ironically enough, it is during her stay at the camp that Megan finally understands and wholeheartedly accepts her sexuality, falling in love with rebel-girl Graham (Clea duVall).

The film was lauded for its extravagant production design, as well as its satirical script chock full of innuendos, courtesy of writer Brian Wayne Peterson. But I’m A Cheerleader embraces the camp sensibility with open arms, using it to conflate stereotypes, satirising the heteronormative rigidity that surrounds our understanding of gender and sexuality. Through this criticism, the film thus enables a reclamation of a queer identity, using camp as not a way to caricature and mock the LGBTQ community, but rather as a form of celebration and empowerment.

Eleanor

As Megan’s parents approach the driveway of ‘True Directions’ at the beginning of the film, the Barbie-dreamland house comes into stark contrast with the barren and nondescript surroundings. True Directions is painted in violent shades of pink and blue, with the upholstery and bedding tightly packaged in plastic and artificial flowers decorating the garden. The set design is absurd, camp, and farcical. Director Jamie Babbit, in an interview with Nitrate, emphasises how she wanted the “the production design to reflect the themes, like the artificiality of gender construction, like you’re more of a man if you chop wood”. The artificiality is certainly borne out of the production design, with the sheer ridiculousness emphasised in the camp goings-on.

The boys of the camp, led by a rather hopelessly repressed Mike, melodramatically participate in the ‘masculine’ activities of American football, wood chopping, and car maintenance. In imbuing these scenes with fantastic hyperbole, innuendo and the occasional phallic prop, Babbit skewers the heteronormative perceptions of gender roles, revealing the absolute ridiculous and arbitrary nature of such expectations. This denunciation is similarly echoed as the girls change the diaper of a plastic baby, aggressively vacuum the floor and try on wedding dresses. In the camp exaggeration of the activities, she mocks the rigidity that hyper-masculinity and hyper-femininity imposes upon heteronormative society.

In a similar vein, Babbit also ridicules the narrow-minded perceptions of queer identities by straight society. When Megan is accosted by her parents, fellow cheerleaders and boyfriend about supposedly being a lesbian, they have no concrete evidence, and she herself doesn’t even know her sexuality yet. Their belief is founded upon a set of Megan’s innocuous actions. She is a vegetarian (upon explaining this at the camp, it is greeted with solemn and knowing nods), decorates her room with ‘gay iconography’ (a Melissa Etheridge poster), and Georgia O’Keeffe-style bedding. It is within this camp scene, that ironically plays like a dignified court-room drama where different characters solemnly present their respective pieces of ‘evidence’, that Babbit derides the nonsensical and random stereotypes of lesbian identities from straight society.

A final humorous criticism implicit within But I’m A Cheerleader is slightly less noticeable than the all-encompassing condemnation of conversion therapy, but exists nonetheless. The chapters that structure the film are marked by title cards that outline the ‘steps’ away from homosexuality and towards heterosexuality: “Step 1: Admitting You’re A Homosexual”, and so on. Embellished with non-diegetic glittery soundbites,

these steps transform the film into a manual, a ‘howto’ of sorts. A commentary, argues Jessica Moore of Mubi, on our “disposition to serialise human experience into acts of self-improvement”, once more reinforcing the artificiality of the conversion experience.

Overall, the film successfully employs camp as a satirical tool to deconstruct stereotypes and expectations latent in heteronormative culture. However, even through this deconstruction is accompanied with an inherent critique, the film still predominantly treats its subject matter with a comedic tone, which has attracted some disapproval, that the psychologically harrowing experience of conversion therapy is relegated to the setting of a comedy. Whilst this is a valid judgement, it is important to remember the complexity still present within the film. It does not shy away from family conflict, homophobic abuse and abandonment, with each of the characters undergoing their own personal journey of self-discovery. In fact, the essence of camp in the film does not stop at simply rendering comedic exaggeration and farce, but also serves as an important function as it enables a celebration, empowerment, and reclamation of queer identity. In But I’m A Cheerleader, camp is not used to caricature the LGBTQ community, but rather to villanise the heteronormativity, paint the characters with complexity, depth and humour, creating a celebratory and colourful picture that gloriously revels in its own over-the-top-ness.

The final message that Babbit leaves the audience with is the futility of the whole endeavour. Members of the camp up and leave, Mike is very much not an ‘ex-gay’, and Megan falls in love with a girl. It is this irony, that she falls in to the very ‘trap’ that her family sought to free her from that amplifies the inane and meaningless nature of conversion therapy. Think about the double entendre of camp and camp. Which refers to the site of gay conversion, and which refers to the satirical, hyperbolic sensibility? Or, are they really not one and the same?

“The film successfully employs camp as a satirical tool to deconstruct stereotypes and expectations latent in heteronormative culture.”

Scared?

Don’tBeOverdramatic.

Susan Sontag’s infamous 1964 essay “Notes on Camp” aptly captures the multifaceted nature of camp. Sontag describes camp as a “tender feeling, a love of the exaggerated, it’s the off of things beingwhat-they-are-not, camp is androgyne, it’s everything in quotation marks and the purpose of camp is to dethrone the serious”. Clearly camp is a lawless being, it transcends film boundaries. However, there are certain film genres that frequently lend themselves to the art of camp, for example, horror films.

Sewn into the plot of all horror classics is a thread of campness. For a film to seep into the genre of camp it must exist in a heightened reality and that’s exactly where most horror movies take place. Everything is high stakes and nothing is quite what it seems - when a

a door slams the audience is left wondering if it was just a rogue gust of wind or if it’s a murderer armed with a chainsaw coming to chop up our beloved protagonist. There is a shared dedication to the artificial and a love of the unnatural that exists in both campness and horror.

Bodies, Bodies, Bodies (Halina Reijn, 2022) is essentially a contemporary take on the Agatha Christie “who done it” plot line. The over-the-top cartoonish violence coupled with cutting gen z dialogue allows this film to sit perfectly between the camp and horror genres. American television writer, director and producer Ryan Murphy is an expert in executing the horror-camp cocktail. Murphy’s ability to create suspense and tension with an underly-

ing scent of dark humour in his television shows, such as Scream Queens (2015 - 2016) and American Horror Story (2011 - 2022), produces an overthe-top world that can only be described as camp.

Even the cult horror classics have a hint of camp in them, for example, Carrie (Brian de Palma, 1976) is about a girl, Carrie White (Sissy Spacek), who is the victim of a deeply cruel prank at her school prom. The prank pushes Carrie to her breaking point and causes her to destroy not only her peers but her town as well. While the film is equally disturbing and horrifying it is also outrageously dramatic - it’s Camp.

Dramatics are the cornerstone of the psychological horror film Psycho (Alfred Hitchcock, 1960). In one of the film’s most infamous scenes, Marion (Janet Leigh) takes a shower in the Bates Motel only to be attacked by a silhouetted assailant. The scene features a jarring violin-heavy soundtrack and close-ups of Marion’s hands trailing down the bathroom wall before she bleeds to death while the shower runs. The scene is a fear-inducing experience and also a masterful class in theatrics. It’s there - in the theatrics, that’s where camp thrives.

It is true that there are no genre limits to where campness can exist in films. However, the horror genre with all its over-thetop nature lends itself easily to the characteristics of camp.

Bodies, Bodies, Bodies, 2022

Ellen Rafferty

Possession

“

In horror, everything is high stakes and nothing is quite what it seems. ”

Brokeback Mountain: How Normcore Camp Got -d.

Eve Smith

The internet will have you seeing camp everywhere. Where the term was once confined in film to the flamboyant kitschiness of directors like Pedro Almodovar, now people are revealing the performance in even the most mundane of actions as camp. The concept is tongue-in-cheek. When everything has the capacity to be meta, gayness gets to exist outside of the typical box of extravagance that it’s confined to.

For a long time, the mainstream cinema world had Brokeback Mountain (2005, Ang Lee) pegged as the quintessential

gay story. Ruby Rich termed the film a watershed moment in inciting the 21st-century New Queer Cinema movement. It was that ‘gay cowboy film’.

Casual mockery of the film in press junkets was relentless, and the film’s gayness was played as the butt of

the joke. As a result, any nuance in understanding that Ennis Del Mar (Heath Ledger), the character who is struggling most with his sexuality, is most likely bisexual, was completely overlooked. He is held back by societal prejudice, but also because he is fundamentally confused.

He is attracted to his wife Alma Beers (Michelle Williams), his new girlfriend Cassie Cartwright (Linda Candellini), but he is also attracted to Jack Twist (Jake Gyllenhaal). This polarises sexuality and perpetuates the idea that you will always fit into a neat category of being either straight or gay. As a result, gayness is reduced to a vaguely conceptualised otherness.

The plot is adapted from Annie Proulx’s 1997 short story of the same name, about two ranchers, Jack Twist and Ennis del Mar, who meet working as herders on a farm one summer in their youth in a fictional mountainous region of Wyoming. Tensions turn physical and the two eventually find themselves tussling into something more than friendship, before returning to their normal lives.

The story is ostensibly understated. It mostly lingers in what’s left unsaid in the characters’ humdrum suburban lives with their wives. Del Mar goes on to marry poor but sweet Alma, whereas Twist moves up in the world by marrying brusque but business-minded Laureen Newsome (Anne Hathaway). It hinges on critiquing toxic masculinity, a web of understanding the restricted way society expects men and women to act, that is ultimately OTT. It depends on exaggeration. Del Mar’s emotions are stuffed so far down, he can

only get to play out in a location that is fictional toys with the idea that this reality is a daydream for most.

As a result, violence courses throughout the film. When Del Mar is told about Twist’s supposed roadside death, he jumps to the assumption that a violent hate crime is being covered up. From an earlier flashback, we know his dad took him to see someone killed for being gay, so we know he’s been primed to assume the worst in. Lee leaves it open for interpretation how Twist actually dies: recounting the event unassumingly, but visually depicting it gorily. The fact that there’s room for such obvious doubt means that even if Twist were to have died in the most innocuous of circumstances, the story can only ever exist under the shadow of disturbing melodrama.

only release them as bitter resignation or blind rage. To the viewer, this repression seems so stunted as to be performative. There’s nothing camper than watching him wrestle Twist to the ground because he “made him like this”, before collapsing into a hug because he doesn’t know how to confront his conflicting fears.

Out of this, comes an exaggerated symbolism that’s coloured by campness. The heart of the film is the pair’s biannual trips back to the crystal blue idyll of their youth, and the tension this causes because it never feels long enough together. This is the only time the two get to see each other and for the most part, the only time they get to act on their queerness. Brokeback Mountain is a place that is unbelievably beautiful. But it’s also fictional. That the men’s desires

Much of the awareness the film tries to raise about homophobia falls a little too squarely on the nose. The final scene has Del Mar crying in front of the outfit Twist died in hanging on his closet door, walloping the viewer over the head with a ham-fisted metaphor. Films about prejudice form a part of an important representation for those living it, and induce empathy from those who might have never tried to understand before. But it’s laced with clichés of what it means to be gay and hinges on the troublingly common plot device of queer violence.

In the end, Brokeback Mountain performs to a straight gaze. It shrinks the discourse into one that’s fairly infantile: society makes being gay hard. Pointing out the obvious in this way with two of Hollywood’s straightest heartthrobs playing a star-crossed gay couple is so performatively clueless that the film winds back full circle into being head-on camp. When the irony woven into campness is interpreted in everything, gayness gets to exist beyond the typical unfulfilled longing, violence and tragedy, and gets to tell a story about something bigger. Love.

Camp In Late 20th Century Horror

Camp is a hard word to define, as I’m sure my fellow contributors this month can agree. Google defines it as “deliberately exaggerated and theatrical”, though I don’t think this quite hits at exactly what camp is. There’s an ethereal, untouchable element to it. Horror has a long relationship with camp, going back to at least the sci-fi B movies of the 50s, but it was really in the 70s and 80s that that relationship became forever interlocked.

Diarmuid O’Dwyer

Ashamedly it was only this Halloween that I saw the quintessential camp horror The Rocky Horror Picture Show (Jim Sharman, 1975). But why is it that this ridiculous 1975 musical became the international phenomenon that it still is today? It’s still playing weekly in cinemas nearly fifty years after its original release, with a devoted fanbase re-enacting the film in real-time at screenings. There’s the world of progress it made in helping queer people feel comfortable being themselves, there are the unbelievably catchy and ridiculous songs (Hot Pa-

The Evil Dead, 1981

tootie is stuck in my head as I write this) and there’s Tim Curry in lingerie. But even all these wonderful elements don’t fully explain why it had the impact it did on their own, they all come together to create camp. The undefinable quality. The X factor. The hook that sinks into people’s desire for uncomplicated and pure maniacal fun.

Of course, Rocky Horror is the epitome of the relationship between horror and camp, but the next decade also produced some delightfully camp horrors. A Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy’s Revenge (Jack Sholder, 1985), for example, is a classic of camp horror. It’s been described as the most homoerotic horror film ever created. Following the serious and quite creepy original, Nightmare 2, triumphs as a clear allegory for closeted queerness with the “final girl” archetype being a teenage boy with a secret to tell: something inside him is eating him up that he needs to get out. Sure, the secret is a demonic serial killer with knife fingers who’s trying to kill him, but that hasn’t stopped it from becoming a cult classic camp film for LGBTQ+ audiences. The gay subtext (if you can even call it that) features everything from a discussion about how Jesse has “another man inside him” to Freddy Krueger murdering Jesse’s (Mark Patton) pervy P.E. teacher by tying him up and whipping his bare butt. Not exactly subtle but certainly effective. And who can forget Mark Patton’s beautifully exaggerated scream once he finds Freddy’s glove on his own hand? The pinnacle of a scream queen. It’s a strangely emotional film, especially compared to the other slashers of the time. It’s able to build up a weird kind of connection between the audience and Jesse. I think it’s because the camp shows it’s aware of how ridiculous the story is and therefore allows the audience to trust it more.

However, I don’t think a film needs a queer aspect to make it camp. Some would disagree with me on that and I can certainly see why, but when you look at horrors such as the Friday the 13th series, Phantasm (Don Coscarelli, 1979), or The Evil Dead trilogy, one would need to make a very compelling argument to change my mind that they are camp. Taking The Evil Dead (Sam Raimim, 1981) and its numerous sequels, one can see the well of charisma that is Bruce Campbell

be completely over the top and overplayed; two things which would usually be looked down upon in most movies, but in the Evil Dead series, his overacting, and the other absurd elements like the foul-mouthed deadites, are very much the point. It uses these clearly campy and downright ludicrous elements to create a sense of fear and dread. By making the demons funny, it doesn’t give the audience any break from the horror, not even in comedy. It’s an interesting case where camp is used to give the film a scarier atmosphere.

Since the inception of horror as a genre, there have been elements of camp found throughout the films made under its banner. Horror as a genre can be more fantastical and ridiculous than other genres where realism is prioritised, and therefore creates a ripe breeding ground for the emergence of elements of camp. Camp in horror has, unfortunately, begun to dissipate as of late, with a focus on a more serious tone and realism emerging. While this has bred many excellent contemporary horror movies, this writer hopes that camp still has a place in the future of horror.

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It uses these clearly campy and downright ludicrous elements to create a sense of fear and dread. ”

The Rocky Horror Picture Show, 1975

The Rocky Horror Picture Show, 1975

Camp & Sexuality

Note: in this essay, I reference (and write myself) a lot that relies on the gender binary; male versus female, men versus women, etc. I certainly do not believe that there are only two genders or that male versus female is as complex as analysis of camp and sexuality in film can get.

Camp is a sensibility, Susan Sontag wrote in her influential essay “Notes on Camp” (1964). This broad definition of not only an aesthetic but a way of existing in and seeing the world permits us to apply the idea of camp to many fields. Camp has particularly strong overlaps with queer aesthetics; one key element of this is the sense of extravagance. As Amelia Abraham writes, “the hallmark of camp, [Sontag] says, is the spirit of extravagance.” Abraham recounts her own first and favorite encounters with camp in media, most all of which are explicitly queer, such as The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert

Lilian McCarthy

(Stephan Elliott, 1994), or have been claimed as queer cult classics, such as Hocus Pocus (Kenny Ortega, 1993). Citing Sontag again, Abraham writes “As for the link between camp and homosexuality, “it has to be explained,” muses Sontag (actually, she was going to call the essay “Notes on Homosexuality,” but later changed her mind)...“While it’s not true that camp taste is homosexual taste,” writes Sontag, “there is no doubt a particular affinity and overlap.”.” Due to camp’s “overlap” with the “homosexual” - or in the more contemporary term that I prefer to use, queer - taste, sensibility, and extravant aesthetic, it is simply impossible to approach camp media without addressing sexuality.

I find no subgenre of media more potentially camp-sexual than part lesbian (wlw, sapphic, take your pick) and part supernatural/horror giallo films of, gener-

generally, the 1960s-70s (the Wikipedia page on giallo is a useful introduction to the genre for curious readers). The absolute best critic (IMHO) and thinker of this arena is Annie Rose Malamet, the lesbian vampire and lesbian vampire expert. I highly recommend her (sometimes controversial) podcast and Patreon called Girls, Guts, Giallo–higher levels of Patreon membership include monthly livestreamed marathons of thematic giallo or giallo-adjacent works and allows for live chatting with fellow viewers and Malamet herself, along with her informative introduction and critique of each film and the series overall. One of my favourite marathons was “Monster Sex,” whose movies were Possession (Andrzej Żuławski, 1981), La Bête (Walerian Borowczyk, 1977), and Meridian (Charles Band, 1990). Malamet has been instrumental in my film education, especially relating to horror, queer, and camp film, of which Giallo films are a delicious mix.

“ The idea of immortality itself is inherently queer, in that it challenges the western hetero-patriarchal concepts of life and death.” Annie Rose Malamet

Malamet’s own identity as a lesbian vampire and leatherdyke is clearly tied to her analyses. In 2021, she gave a talk at Final Girls Berlin Film Festival called “Her Hunger: The Lesbian Vampire & Queer Immortality, Suicidality, and Codependency,” a fruitful elaboration on her previous lesbian vampire work. In an interview with Lindsay Pugh following her talk, Malamet shared a potent summary of why lesbian vampire films of the mid to late 20th century are are especially generative: “The scholarship has mainly focused on the way that these films utilize a male perspective because most of them…were created by men. Most of the discourse has been about

how the lesbian vampire is a homophobic figure who perpetuates this idea of the outcast homosexual, the predatory homosexual. Then, there’s the other school of thought, which is that the lesbian vampire can be reclaimed as a symbol of empowerment. I kind of take the track that all of these things are true at once, making it a lot more complicated. Do these films perpetuate the idea of the outcast homosexual predator? They absolutely do. But what’s more interesting to me is how they are still very exemplary of these things that queer women struggle with that we seem to not be able to talk about in this age of assimilationism and queer pride.” Malamet’s evident expertise and her takes in this interview connect, for me, her analysis here to what I know of Andrea Weiss’ book Vampires and Violets: Lesbians in the Cinema, in which she claims that the horror films of the ‘70s, as Michelle Hyun Kim writes, that “feature intimate scenes between a woman and a female vampire — both always thin, white, and high femme presenting” are ostensibly constructed for “male pornographic fantasy” (Weiss).

Just as many older films are, queer horror can often stand out as “problematic” watching it from our contemporary context of “assimilationism and queer pride,” to quote Malamet. And like all media, our interpretations can change based on our own identities, knowledge, and aesthetics and sensibilities. Indeed, Malamet and Weiss logically claim that the gender of the director may have had a great impact on these films: “Since men are not burdened by generations of raped and abused women in all of their choices and embodiments, they’re kind of free to make really joyous, brazen, erotic, sadomasochistic work. I think women are struggling because they have to think about all of these things... like how it’s going to fit into the discourse” (Malamet). However, what I find makes the reclaiming of older, possibly problematic films or other media especially exciting whether directed by a man or a woman is that coded queer subtext can simultaneously be thrillingly extravagant and camp, which adds to the tantalizing queerness, longing, isolation, messiness, lust, and grotesque horror of it all.

Action as Rehearsal of Camp

Campness is a fine line and also subjective. It is easy to watch a film and determine whether it falls in the general area of the camp, but difficult sometimes to pin-point exactly what makes a film camp. In essence I think that camp action movies employ a type of glamorousness - they are over the top and flamboyant. But these films also embrace a certain cheapness and outrageousness. Over-acted and ever so slightly witty, being self-aware is key to creating a camp masterpiece. Action films generally tend to benefit from this as the plot of many action movies are inherently outlandish. Action films depend on the audience being able to set aside a critical view because most action films, if watched from this perspective, would be terribly boring. Action films depend on fun, on not taking

Sarah Murnane

things too seriously and allowing you to suspend your disbelief. Hence why adding in elements of the camp genre generally adds to action movies, rather than taking anything away from them.

What are some great camp-y action films? The first one that sticks out is Con Air (Simon West, 1997). Con Air is a thriller action film that follows Cameron (Nicolas Cage) on the day he gets out of prison, having been imprisoned for accidentally killing a man who catcalled his wife. He is freed on his daughter’s birthday, whom he has never seen before as she was born when he was in prison. However, to get home and see his daughter on her birthday, he must fly on a superjet filled with the world’s most dangerous criminals. Hence Con Air. You may

Highlander, 1986

think this sounds like spoilers, but this is literally just the first ten minutes of the film.

Con Air embodies a 90s style campness, where despite the fact this was a major blockbuster film with a star studded cast, there is still something slightly cheap looking about it. The sets and costumes are haphazard and slightly cartoonish at times. Alongside this the main words to describe this movie would be ostentatiousness in every conceivable way. The plot, the acting, the music, the props. The actors in this film are a large part of what brings a camp element to Con Air. Nicolas Cage does very well in camp movies. Cage has always been partial to over acting but his flamboyance lends itself well to a camp film. John

Cusack, John Malkovitch and Steve Buscemi are all seasoned camp movie professionals. They seem to perfectly understand what is required of them, they instinctively understand the hilarity of the camp genre and provide performances that accompany the rest of the film beautifully. The script has an offbeat humour, almost as if the cast is constantly giving the audience a wink.

A second film that immediately comes to mind when considering camp action films is Highlander (Russel Mulcahy, 1986). Highlander follows an immortal Scotsman Connor Macleod (Christopher Lambert), who must fight other immortal beings to win a mystical prize.

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90s style campness, where despite the fact this was a major blockbuster film with a star studded cast, there is still something slightly cheap looking about it.”

What comes to light with camp action films is that the plot is of great importance to determining whether the film can be camp. A camp action film almost requires a strange, mad plot to lead the audience along. This allows the film to not take itself too seriously, to adopt a glamorousness that other action films cannot. Like Con Air, everything about this movie is camp. The costumes stand out particularly in some cases. An example is when Sean Connery shows up in the Scottish highlands wearing a bright red, medieval man’s outfit. The overacting elements are there too, alongside a cheapness that comes across in the special effects and set design.

Camp action films are a great genre. It is a niche genre, but camp brings so much life and fun to action movies. It definitely makes them more palatable to a wider audience, and they are highly recommended for people who are not fans of action films in general.

Con Air, 1997

Camp The Defence Plan 9 From Outer Space

Finn Brannigan

If you asked me what the most important part of what makes a film or performance camp is, I would tell you that it’s playing an implausible idea absolutely straight, whether intentionally or not. This can work extremely well or end in a total trainwreck, depending on the strength of the script. I want to talk about the trainwrecks. This is not to say these films are not fun to watch; on the contrary, we are all familiar with films that are ‘so bad they’re good’. Through a mix of fascination with the creative process of the film and Schadenfreude aimed at everyone involved in making it, these films draw cult audiences and endure

as beloved classics. The quintessential ‘so bad it’s good’ film is The Room (Tommy Wiseau, 2003). But everybody knows about that one. I would like to bring you far back, to the fifties! Some of you may already know this film as “the worst film ever made”, as labelled by the Golden Turkey awards in 1980. It is none other than Ed Wood’s Plan 9 from Outer Space (1959)! Minor spoilers ahead!

If you can’t tell, I am very excited to talk about this film. The title itself feels at once both mysterious and flat. What is Plan 9 from outer space? What happened to the other eight plans? Who in God’s

is sending it from the enormous expanse of outer space? Our head filled with questions, the movie opens with a monologue given by Criswell, a real-life TV psychic, that waffles mysteriously for several minutes. The suspense of one line, “We are all interested in the future, for that is where you and I are going to spend the rest of our lives”, is immediately obliterated by “future events such as these will affect you in the future”. This sets the tone for the film, in which every moment of drama or suspense is immediately undercut by poor writing or editing. Without giving too much away, an early scene involving a funeral is a perfect example of the film’s editing completely undercutting a scene’s emotional weight.

that it’s a wonder that they ever manage to kill anyone.

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The film boasts a bizarre range of performances. While most of the ‘average Joe’ characters are middling, there are a few notable performances, though not necessarily thanks to acting chops. On the one hand, the scenes involving the aliens are quite entertaining, with a vibe somewhere between Flash Gordon (Mike Hodge, 1980) and Star Trek (Gene Roddenberry, 1966-1969). However other performances are downright bad. Wood cast Tor Johnson, a Swedish wrestler, with an important speaking part, despite Johnson’s difficulties speaking English. The most striking appearance though is Bela Lugosi, best known for playing Dracula. Incidentally, this film was Bela Lugosi’s last. Tragically, he died early on in the filming of Plan 9, but Ed Wood was determined to keep him in the film and had a stand-in pretend to be Lugosi for the rest of his scenes. Unfortunately, the execution of this is, like the rest of the film, sincere but haphazard. The old man’s scenes later in the film are meant to be some of the tensest and frightening in the film. However, in half his scenes, he holds a cape over his face to disguise the casting change and is forced to move at the pace of a snail, sucking the tension out of the moment. This is another problem with the film that adds to the hilarity.

All of the villains, while visually menacing (although veering into silly at times), move so slowly

This brings us to a fundamental flaw at the core of this film’s plot. The mysterious “plan 9” makes no sense if you stop to think about it for one second. The reason the aliens give for using it is genuinely a fun sci-fi premise, to be fair. But when the motivation is revealed at the end of the film, it begs the question: Of all the plans the aliens had, why would they have thought that this one was in any way the ideal way to solve their problem? Despite the questions that the plot’s absurdity raises with the audience, it is clear that Ed Wood thought he had a brilliant story here. The film is so clearly unashamed of itself, even when making writing choices like the ones mentioned and ripping stock military footage over and over during one sequence. I think that’s why this film has acquired the cult status it has over the years as an anti-masterpiece. Tim Burton even produced and directed Ed Wood (1994), a biopic about Wood and the period during which he made Plan 9. By any account, it’s clear this isn’t any old bad film. It’s a triumph of unintentional camp, and I’d recommend it to anyone.

Plan 9 From Outer Space, 1959

The film is so clearly unashamed of itself ”

Dazed and Confused, 1993

Alright, Alright, Alright. How Mathew McConaughey made High SchoolCamp

Isabella Wood

The role of a high school dirtbag isn’t inherently camp. That is, until Matthew McConaughey came along. His first ever part, Wooderson in Dazed and Confused, happened due to a chance meeting in a bar, and was only supposed to be a couple of lines long. However, from these humble beginnings it has become infamous among stoners and high school nostalgics alike. Is this role a connoisseur of camp? No. But, does his captivating chevron moustache and tight, salmon-pink bootcut jeans have camp written all over them? Absolutely.

Linklater’s film is an ode to the glory days of the 1970s, the languorous, playful, irresponsible times in which high school was just about finding a place to smoke, play some tunes and look cool. It follows a group of seniors-to-be, and a couple lucky freshmen, over the course of the last day of school - featuring lazy lessons and foiled party plans. Portraying a spectrum

of teens from varying social standings, the contrasts between the jocks, the stoners and the nerds are all ultimately belittled by the uniting desire to get drunk, high or laid. The narrative plot is very loose, and the audience is just there for the ride, enjoying the last day buzz alongside Pink, Mitch, Slater, and Wooderson.

the uniting desire to get drunk, high or laid. The narrative plot is very loose, and the audience is just there for the ride, enjoying the last day buzz alongside Pink, Mitch, Slater, and Wooderson. Matthew McConaughey said in an interview that Wooderson’s character was based on who he thought his older brother was when he was eleven and his brother was seventeen. He refers to having thought of his older brother as the ‘smoking…cool cat’ with the ‘fastest car in town.’ This idolised, childish view of what cool represents is simple and effective in creating a character who experienced the best days of their

life in school. McConaughey’s role in Dazed and Confused is an unusual addition to the high school genre - a high school graduate who can’t keep his eyes and hands off high school girls, drawn to them because whilst he gets older, ‘they stay the same age’. This, and his tendency to hang around seniors when he already works in the city, gives him an aura of a has-been coolguy. Although he still manages to maintain a level of swagger, perhaps through his blasé attitude or his incredible knowledge of high school politics. The nugget of wisdom which he imparts on the seniors is that ‘the older you do get, the more rules they’re gonna try to get you to follow. You just gotta keep livin’ man, L-I-V-I-N.’

Wooderson’s character was mostly improvised, or lines were written as the scene was being filmed, this in itself is arguably rather camp. The chance that lines made up on the spot could turn out to be quoted years after is rather impressive. Additionally, the hyperbolic nature of the character being so macho and unaware of his vague eccentricity is even more amusing. His masculine symbols such as - his car, ‘some fuckin’ muscle’, being described as ‘out of a comic book’, and his meticulous side-part bob, which looks as though it’s glued on, allow a further comedic element. Camp isn’t always humorous, but the flamboyant confidence and blasé nature that a lot of camp characters have, suggests that it can be. Wooderson’s high confidence and comedic timing verges on goofy when he asks Cynthia whether she needs a ride, just as she is sitting at her own wheel. Moments such as this allow camp to reveal itself, as Wooderson being unaware at his absurdity adds another level

of ostentatiousness and amusement. Similarly, his confidence in himself as the King of Cool is palpable through the screen as, in a sequence that is undeniably old-school cool, he struts into the Emporium with Hurricane by Bob Dylan accompanying him.

Whilst camp continues to be something which is almost always connected to the ostentatious, the absurd and the gay, it can be argued that McConaughey loosened the definition somewhat. The macho man who is so extreme in expressing his groovy, sexual, masculine nature really does verge, if not cross, the line into camp in a very amusing and fulfilling way. Everyone could do with a little camp in their life, and if you don’t have any ‘it would be a lot cooler if you did’.

Dazed and Confused, 1993

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Is this role a connoisseur of camp? No. But, does his captivating chevron moustache and tight, salmon-pink bootcut jeans have camp written all over them? Absolutely. ”

Camp Classics

Camp, in its purest form, can be defined as naive. The creators showcase an apparent, sincere effort but are ultimately unsuccessful, leaving their initial intentions unfulfilled. Essentially, pure Camp is “so bad that it’s good.” Pure, unintentional Camp classics have dominated the space since its conception. However, with so many pure Camp classics now in our library, more recent films and television series have attempted to emulate the elements of unintentional Camp. This self-aware, intentional attempt at executing a Camp classic can be considered conscious Camp.

Some may argue that the term “conscious Camp” is an oxymoron. Can a film or television series really be considered Camp if that was the goal? I would argue yes. When executed well, conscious Camp can be just as, if not more,

satisfying as a pure Camp classic. To prove my case, I will be analyzing a few of my favorite conscious Camp classics that explore some of the genres, themes, and topics that pure Camp is undoubtedly drawn to.

Lauren Madigan

Pearl, 2022

Carrie, 1976

First up is the classic “Action Sci-Fi” film. My favorite example of a pure Camp classic in this category is The Thing (John Carpenter, 1982). Though there are many compelling elements to this film, the excessive amounts of gore and painfully 80s visual effects are what make this film a pure Camp classic.

In comparison, Everything Everywhere All At Once (Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert, 2022) is conscious Camp at its best. This film is outlandish, over-the-top, and absurd in the best ways possible, which was clearly the creators’ intention. There is something immensely satisfying about watching a film as brilliant as Everything Everywhere All At Once while also relishing in just the right amount of insanity.

There is no such thing as a vampire film or television show that is not Camp, no matter the intentions. Twilight (Catherine Hardwicke, 2008) is an iconic example of a pure Camp vampire classic. No further explanation is necessary. This film is truly the epitome of “so bad it’s good.”

One of the most iconic Camp subjects is the “Crazed Killer.” There is nothing quite like watching a character so unhinged that you can’t look away. A great example of a pure Camp film within this category is Carrie (Brian De Palma, 1976). It’s impossible to take this film seriously. Between the excessive amounts of unnecessary nudity and the highly unrealistic treatment of Carrie (Sissy Spacek), this film proves to be a true unintentional Camp classic.

Pearl (Ti West, 2022) takes the absurd elements from previous “Crazed Killer” pure Camp classicsand combines them with the over-the-top fairytale aesthetics of The Wizard of Oz (Victor Fleming, 1939). Pearl is also difficult to take seriously, but that is the clear intention of its creators, and it is stunningly executed. When a creator intends to produce something Campy, more op-

Opposite, True Blood (Alan Ball, 2008) mastered the art of conscious Camp like no other. With a ditzy telepathic protagonist, centuries-old vampires integrating into society, and the quirky dynamics of a small town in Louisiana, this show would have been Camp no matter the intentions. The creators took liberties by leaning into the show’s absurdity and choosing not to take themselves too seriously, which ultimately paid off. True Blood, especially in its first few seasons, is one of the best examples of conscious Camp to date. Essentially, it all boils down to individual taste. Pure Camp is “laughing at,” while conscious Camp is “laughing with.” Which is more satisfying to watch depends on the preference of the viewer. I can’t get enough of the brilliance that self-aware Camp can bring to the table. However, I acknowledge that pure Camp is the blueprint, and the new conscious Camp may not hold up over time in the same way pure Camp classics have.

portunities arise for the typical Campy jokes and tropes to pay off, making for a very satisfying watch.

Twilight, 2008

Everything, Everywhere, All at Once, 2022

“ Pure Camp is ‘laughing at,’ while conscious Camp is ‘laughingwith’.”

Ground breaking Camp The Birdcage

Leah Kelly

The Birdcage (Mike Nichols) operates in a unique space in LGBTQIA+ film history. Released in 1996, it’s post Hays Code depictions of gay characters always being villains or dying at the end, and post the AIDS dramas of the 80s. But it is pre our more centred and progressive LGBTQIA+ narratives we see on screen today.

It can be seen as one of the starting points for the more lighthearted gay stories we would view in the coming years. At the time, it was radical and groundbreaking. Starring some of the biggest stars at the time; Robin Williams, Gene Hackman, Christine Baranski and others, it was a huge moment for LGBTQIA+ representation in cinema.

We follow Armand, Albert and their son Val. Armand owns a drag nightclub and Albert is the star. Val announces to them he intends

to marry a girl he met at college. The only problem is her family are staunch Republicans. Her father is a Senator and the co-founder of the ‘Coalition for Moral Order’. Her parents won’t agree to her marriage to Val unless they meet his parents. Armand and Val hatch a plan to hide Albert for the night, because while Armand can pretend to be straight for a night, Albert will not be able to convincingly.

First and foremost, the film is hilarious. Robin Williams and Nathan Lane are delightful, and every actor is giving their all in every scene. The writing is sharp, and jokes will sometimes have a buildup over scenes before a punchline. As well as being funny, it is also kept interesting through the sustained tension. It often feels like watching someone on a tightrope.

It was an adaptation of a French film, La Cage Aux Folles (Éduoard Molinaro, 1978) released almost 20 years prior. There is also a Broadway musical version, also called La Cage Aux Folles. La Cage Aux Folles, the French film, and The Birdcage are almost identical. The musical, however, takes a different approach to the film. In the film, Albert’s campiness and effeminate nature are played for laughs a lot of the time. In the musical, he is portrayed slightly more seriously. The emotional core of the musical comes with the song “I Am What I Am”. In which Albert pro-

fesses how he is unashamed of being a flamboyant gay man, and he will not apologise or change for anyone. With film audiences perhaps being thought of as less accepting than your average Broadway audience - there’s not as much discussion of LGBTQIA+ rights, or being proud rather than trying to assimilate in the film.

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As a campy comedy, it succeeds in being both hilarious and politically incisive in its satire of 90’s conservatives. “

None of that is to say that the film is all comedy, no heart. Despite the lack of onscreen affection, Armand and Alberts love for each other is plainly clear. It is also clear how close knit and happy the family are. It is at its core a story of family and the joining of two very different families.

As a campy comedy, it succeeds in being both hilarious and politically incisive in its satire of 90’s conservatives. Being a rare 90s representation of joy and laughter in the LGBTQIA+ community, it is a warm and entertaining film with a lot of soul.

The Birdcage, 1996

IsCamp Dead?

Margot Robbie, in an 80s print neon leotard, high blonde ponytail and pink visor, cruising down what looks like Venice Boulevard in LA on roller skates – next to her, Ryan Gosling, dressed in matching attire. They are not the first pictures released from the set of Greta Gerwig’s upcoming film Barbie (Greta Gerwig, 2023), but definitely the campiest. One quick twitter search brings forth a myriad of exclamations: “This movie will be camp”; “it’s giving nostalgia, it’s giving camp”; “THIS is camp. (…) But literally what is this movie about lol”.

From Susan Sontag’s “Notes on Camp” sparking international controversy back in 1964, to a new film release getting widespread exposure

Chiara Gregor

and positive attention for its campy look, camp as a discursive term has inarguably changed over time. It is part of a popular vocabulary, predominantly used in digital spaces, and, propelled by the MET-gala Notes on Fashion it has been introduced to a much wider

Scooby Doo, 2002

Legally Blond, 2001

audience. Is this the golden age of camp or has this mainstream-ification turned it from a queer, subversive, polarizing aesthetic taste into an overused buzzword?

The camp sensiability and contemporary media culture go hand in hand: camp is essentially postmodern. Easily compatible with the multiplicity of meanings in current narrative forms, and the departure from realism and logic towards absurdity and humor. But practically everything can be camp if everything is a spectacle, which is where the problems begin. Many people see camp as being threatened by the destructive compulsion of social media to ingest subcultures and regurgitate them, reshaped and diluted to fit the mainstream. Another point of critique is the overuse of the term camp in pop culture and the potential erasure of its queer subtext in the process. Susan Sontag was already criticized for decentering homosexuality in her discussion of camp, framing it as as an apolitical aesthetic taste. The widespread appropriation of camp in any context threatens to render it meaningless (some people are not looking camp right in the eye). Furthermore, camp sells nowadays! Chances are, most contemporary camp films are consciously camp, and “intending to be campy is always harmful” (Notes on Camp, p.6). This means that not only is there less and less naïve camp – pure, unintentional camp – but that camp is a commodity.

With all of this said, I did not bring up Barbie and the hype surrounding its production just to end up declaring camp dead. A more optimistic outlook on online culture could highlight the inherent multi-dimensionality of online culture, with its possibility for niche areas and subversion. Right now it is easier than ever to revive, circulate and re-popularize any film or cultural objects of the past or present. This is basically the

camp eye in praxis: to look back into the past for camp objects and resurface them in a new context. In this way, camp and its rebellion against rigidity and seriousness is thriving. I think that despite all our efforts in pinpointing and analyzing it, “true” camp will always be a little out of reach for any instrumentalizing and appropriating forces – it exists outside of (its own) canonization.

Camp cannot die: It is constantly reviving itself through the introduction of new objects of nostalgia from which it pulls its often grotesque and always exuberant aesthetics. Taking Barbie’s artificiality, hyper femininity and décor into the “real world”, Gerwig’s parodic reformulation of

Barbie, 2023

“Barbie” will most probably take its place right in the middle of said camp canon, stepping into the footsteps of its predecessors like Legally Blonde (Robert Luketic, 2001) or Scooby Doo (Raja Gosnell, 2002). And even though the anticipation of camp in “Barbie” seems counterintuitive to camp’s usual look backwards, it could potentially be a true camp hit – we shall find out in just under a year’s time.

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Is this the golden age of camp or has this mainstream-ification turned it from a queer, subversive, polarizing aesthetic taste into an overused buzzword?”

Golden Age Camp

The Gold Diggers

Victoria Carton

In July 1934, the Motion Picture Association enacted a set of censorship rules known as ‘The Hays Code.’ Once in effect, previously limitless Hollywood directors now needed to re-edit their movies and rewrite their scripts. Good needed to be shown as good, evil as evil, and American values had to save the day unless these directors wanted to be blacklisted from Hollywood. Any movie put out before this ruling became known as a “Pre-Code” film and anything made during the Hays Code is considered “Hollywood’s Golden Age.” This shift in the industry changed the direction of Hollywood, and destroyed a lot of the camp expression that made these pre-Code films so impactful.

The Hays Code enforced a shift from camp to family-friendly films, having a direct impact over the course of the 1930s movie series, The Gold Diggers. The first one in the series, Gold Diggers of 1933

Busby Berkeley, Mervyn LeRoy, 1933), is based on a 1919 play ‘The Gold Diggers’ written by Avery Hopwood. The movie revolves around lower-class showgirls who seduce billionaires as revenge for insulting their livelihood. Its successor, Gold Diggers of 1935 (Busby Berkeley, 1935) serves as its sequel in name only. The plot centers around a miserly rich woman who refuses to distribute her wealth, but agrees to fund a musical for the sake of a philanthropic tax break. It disregards any of the original story and only uses themes of money as any commonality.

One of the main reasons that these two movies are so different from each other is the two years that separate their production. Because it is a pre-Code film, Gold Diggers of 1933 is allowed to contain pointed commentary at the American government, while still allowing its characters to have fun. There is commentary throughout the movie but most

The Gold Diggers, 1933 specifically in the final number. It is a direct call to the American government to stop overlooking its lower-class citizens as the Great Depression continues on. Also in this movie is a musical number devoted to people hooking up in a park. And while the ensemble busies itself singing, the park police chase a baby on roller-skates. (Whatever mental imagery that conjures up, I promise you that it’s still weirder than that.)

But “genuine camp – [like] the numbers devised for the Warner Brothers musicals [] (... The Gold Diggers of 1933…; of 1935…etc.) by Busby Berkeley –does not mean to be funny,” (Susan Sontag, Notes on Camp, 7). And every song in the movie (yes, even that one) takes itself seriously. It’s weird – good God, is it weird – but this is camp in action! It works because Berkeley’s direction redefines what a typical dance

The Gold Diggers, 1935

sequence can be. He depicts ensemble coordination of moving sets, furniture, or even clothes to do the work of ‘dancing’ rather than a group of people taking on traditional choreography. And he shows rehearsals of these huge numbers throughout the movie to slowly introduce his “genuine camp” world to the audience. This way, when we come to the grand finale, the audience knows to expect something even more fantastically camp than before because they are familiar with the world that is being shown.

However, in Gold Diggers of 1935, he ignores what worked in the first movie and puts all of the camp musical numbers at the end of the film; making these beautiful sequences feel like afterthoughts. Also, because it follows up Gold Diggers of 1933, you can’t help but feel a forced innocence in the plot. Berkeley cannot give a call to action to the American government; he cannot show women seducing men out of

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And every song in the movie (yes, even that one) takes itself seriously. It’s weird – good God, is it weird – but this is camp in action! ”

revenge. Instead, this is a dime-a-dozen Golden Age script with some cool dances at the end. So, while Sontag includes Gold Diggers of 1935 in the list of Camp movies, that label hangs entirely on the final music numbers. Unfortunately, even those songs can’t redeem the nonexistent plot

Industry censorship affects how directors can display their art. Gold Diggers of 1933 is Camp because it’s unapologetically extravagant. However, Gold Diggers of 1935 tries to look Camp right in the eye, but due to Hays Code imposed censorship, it misses the mark.

Heterosexual TheGreat Gatsby

Leah Kelly

There is something inherently absurd about taking ‘the great American novel’ and making it a chaotic, campy film and it is the type of thing that only the campiest of directors, Baz Luhrman, could achieve. Known for camp classic Moulin Rouge (2001), his take on The Great Gatsby (2013) retains the spirit of camp while also being a faithful adaptation of the novel.

The film mostly follows the story beats of the novel. Nick Carraway (Tobey Maguire) meets, and becomes, completely fascinated and enamoured with Jay Gatsby (Leonardo DiCaprio). An extremely wealthy man, who throws lavish parties in order to try to capture the attention

of his lost love Daisy Buchanan (Carey Mulligan) - Nick’s cousin, and wife to Tom Buchanan (Joel Edgerton). But with The Great Gatsby - the story is only one small part of the picture. Gatsby’s longing for Daisy and desperation to be rich is an allegory for the failure of the American dream, and a commentary on the society of the upper class in the 20s along the East Coast of the US.

Where the film departs from the novel is its tone. Like Moulin Rouge, nearly every frame is chaotic and colourful - far from the mostly depressing novel. It leans into the gaudy and opulent nature of the society of the upper classes at the time. To hammer home the themes of how broken the system was, the film deliberately portrays upper

HeterosexualIdeal The

The Great Gatsby, 2013

class frivolity through the extravagant parties, the modern soundtrack, and the costumes. The art direction and aesthetics are just as important as the narrative. Excessive colours, flashy camera work and jump cuts every couple of seconds are Luhrmans signature style and it works to the advantage of The Great Gatsby’s themes.

It’s almost impossible to talk about The Great Gatsby and camp without talking about the queer subtext. Since the 70s, literary scholars have proposed queer readings of The Great Gatsby, positing that Nick is in love with Gatsby and Gatsby doesn’t feel the same and hence the tragedy. Alternatively that Gatsby is also gay, and his longing for Daisy is a longing not only for wealth, but a heterosexual ideal. Thus the

story becomes not just one about the failings of the American dream, but also of a heteronormative society. With the book being written in the 20s, it would not have been possible to have any openly LGBTQIA+ characters, as such coded characters and vague allusions were as much as could be done.

the 70s, literary scholars have proposed queer readings of The Great Gatsby, positing that Nick is in love with Gatsby and Gatsby doesn’t feel the same and hence the tragedy. Alternatively that Gatsby is also gay, and his longing for Daisy is a longing not only for wealth, but a heterosexual ideal. ”

The film nods to this, with the longing stares and musical choices when Nick and Gatsby are speaking to each other. When Nick tells Gatsby he does not expect anything in return for helping him, distinguishing himself as someone who cares about Gatsby for himself and not for his social status or money, unlike everyone else in the novel including Daisy, there is soft piano music playing in the background as they stare at each other wistfully, surrounded by trees. The Great Gatsby dials up the themes of the novel to 10, and uses a campy style to explore the decadence of 1920s society. With Luhrmans frenetic directorial style, the extravagant colours, the soundtrack and the melodrama of it all - the film is thoroughly camp. It’s a

The Great Gatsby, 2013

sobering look at class, greed, materialism, so cial stratification, trying to repeat the past, and lives spent wasted away on empty dreams - it is also a colourful melodrama about rich people with gay undertones. And anyway, taking F Scott Fitzgerald’s classic and celebrated novel, and transforming it into a camp film is sort of camp in itself.

“Since

Intentional &

James Mahon

Susan Sontag, the mid-twentieth century intellectual, is widely known as the first person to articulate the notion of camp. A concept so broad, that it took almost 58 separate bullet points to fully explain the meaning of the term. Yet to attempt to put it succinctlycamp is generally framed as a style that exudes exaggeration, ostentatiousness and artifice. A sensibility that is attracted to the terrible and the ironic, the ultimate camp statement being as Sontag put it – ‘its good because its awful’. However, this has largely been derived from a deliberately conscious and cultivated camp style. Something that mainstream films of a campish nature are acutely aware of. And whilst loving these types of films are completely valid and legitimate, too many people are unaware of the joys of watching unintentional naivé ‘pure’ camp performances.

That is not to diminish the satisfaction that people receive from watching the likes of Showgirls (Paul Verhoeven, 1995) or Clueless (Amy Heckerling, 1995) These deliberately embrace the classic satirizing element inherent in the mainstream interpretation of camp culture. They acknowledge the fundamental badness of their efforts on an artistic level, but ignore this wholeheartedly. They seem to mock any use of conventional standards of assessment, predominantly originating from bourgeois middle-class values. They are laughing at themselves and the enforced expectations that are attached with any form of creative expression, inviting the audience to laugh alongside them. It is essentially a postmodernist rejection of what ‘good’ or ‘bad’ is meant to be in society. Despite this though, whilst this can be undoubtedly funny and engaging in parts, its manifestation on screen can be somewhat repetitive, and its artificiality prevents such films from possessing much of an emotional backbone. Nonetheless this is not really a criticism, for the most part these films deserve their cult status within camp filmography.

However, there is an underappreciation of how enjoyable unsuspecting camp films can be. The main criteria of such camp, as Sontag has underlined, is a serious film that has failed. In essence, a film that, in contrast with self-aware camp styles, tries to meet the artistic standard in whatever genre it is situated in, but hasn’t. Yet, not all failures are necessarily camp, they must have the right combination of exaggeration, passion and naivety. It somewhat subverts the aforementioned established convention of camp in a film setting, allowing for greater freedom and flexibility in defining what is or isn’t camp. Admittedly there are some exceptions to the rule, but in general terms pure camp films, are films that had no intent on being camp, but on being so bad fall into that category.

One of the great qualities these ‘pure’ camp films possess is exactly that: their purity. Camp storylines develop entirely naturally and organically. There is no aim of doing so in the script, but whether through a mixture of a film’s settings, character development, or just through a plot’s development, it somehow materializes. The beauty of it is in how distinctly oblivious the film seems to be of the fact that this occurred, there is an innocence to it that is the exact opposite to traditional camp films. The

Clueless, 1995

The end result, being that for the most part, all other aspects of the film become irrelevant, and the camp element quickly becomes the star of the show.

The lasting memory anyone has of Point Break (Kathryn Bigelow, 1991) is the relationship between Keanu Reeves’ and Patrick Swawyze’s characters, everything else dissolves into the background, with the truly memorable shot being Swayze and Reeves surfing on the beach, whilst they smile at each other upon making eye contact.

As a caveat Point Break is an exception to Sontag’s rule that all unconscious camp films must fail, it is one of the rare movies that manages to actually succeed in its original goal, whilst also having a strong camp undertone. Moreover, inadvertently camp films are incredibly hilarious. They provide a different type of comedic value, which is equal to, if not funnier than, that of conscious-

ly made camp productions. There will always be something innately laughable about an attempted straight-laced movie that has no self-awareness whatsoever. Whether through a poorly written script, shocking acting performances or a combination of the two, the outcome is comedy gold.

Tom Cruises’ Top Gun (Joseph Koisinki, 2022) (1 or 2) being a case in point. Attempting to be a paragon of military courage and bravery, it ends up being almost entirely composed of scenes inflected with homoerotic tension. Added to this, even the supposed death-defying moments are comical in their over the topness and purported sincerity. A more recent addition to the cannon is Michael Flatley’s Blackbird (Michael Flatley, 2022), a film culpable on both counts of atrocious writing and acting. Perhaps the campest thing I have seen is Flatley or rather Victor Blackley MI6 agent, shouting ‘Let’s dance’, before a simply unimaginably horrendous gun fight sequence. The list

Unintentional Camp

Top Gun, 2022

of films that fit within this category are almost endless, but to selectively name a few – any other Tom Cruise film, any Arnold Schwarzenegger film and any Russel Crowe film. All of these have such an extreme sense of hyper-masculinity, and such outlandish ways of attempting to convey it, that you can’t help but be convulsed with laughter. It may be a more pernicious form of hilarity than mainstream camp films, after all we are laughing at them not with them. But I’m sure Flatley et al can take it.

Ultimately, the organic nature and unintentional comedic element of ‘pure’ camp films makes them exceedingly fun to watch. Whilst there is a reason mainstream camp is popular and its satirical qualities are undeniable, from an entirely subjective perspective I would rather watch Cruise die but not die in his plane, or Reeves and Swayze as they frolic in the sea, or Flatley try and save the world.

ADesperation to be Exciting

Women &Camp

Why is there a correlation between women and films that are attributed with the label ‘camp’? It’s not coming from those making the films, which means that it must be coming from the audiences themselves. But why? What purpose does the ‘camp’ label serve? Does it help or diminish the cultural value of these films? These questions are worth exploring, especially in regards to women.

Camp as a genre is well observed, and yet so intangibly broad that to discuss one aspect of it is difficult. Even so, women and the relationship they have with camp film certainly warrants thought. The aspects of camp as a genre are subjective, and there is no one concrete definition, however a few key attributes are constants: irony, dramatics, flamboyance, and melodrama. With this piece emphasising melodrama as the focus of discussion

on women and camp film, the term itself needs to be defined. In terms of film, melodrama is perceived as both dramatic and sensational, with characters too large for life, and emotionally persuasive plotlines. When discussing the camp genre there are some typically mentioned films ranging from classics to contemporary, such as Some Like It Hot (Billy Wilder, 1959), Don’t Worry Darling (Olivia Wilde, 2022), and Showgirls (Paul Verhoeven, 1995). Common themes throughout these films, and many others which fall into the ‘camp’ category is their female centric storylines, usage of both satirical and flamboyant elements, and of course, an overarching melodramatic sense of character and plot. In this way, femininity becomes not only an element of these films, but in fact, is at the core of both their appeal and dismissal.

The narrative seems to be that camp films are those that lack any actual substance and are seemingly entertaining for all the wrong reasons. They are

Rachel Heaney and Niamh O’Donnell

Desperation Exciting

Don’t Worry Darling, 2022

enjoyable because they are bad and melodramatic. They are seen as films without a message. But we would argue that this is incorrect and the result of a negative connotation of the word ‘camp’ itself. Take Olivia Wilde’s Don’t Worry Darling, a successful film starring Florence Pugh and Harry Styles that brought in $78.2 million at the global box office. This is a film directed towards female audiences by the director who sought to make a commentary on society’s view of the female gaze, a largely untouched theme. Don’t Worry Darling has not been taken seriously as a film in its own right. On Rotten Tomatoes the film has a critical approval rating of 39%, but this differs vastly from the audience approval rating of 74%.

A lot of this seems to come from the fact that the ‘camp’ label is applicable to the film. It has been taken less seriously because it has a beautiful, aesthetically pleasing cinematography that appeals to female audiences. The inclusion of Harry Styles has also centred this film as a film for women in a way that might not have happened if someone else had been cast in the role. Acting is a relatively new venture for popular music artist Styles, and it has not proved an easy transition to make. His being in the film attracted his largely female fanbase to the film, who, perhaps unintentionally, applied Styles’ own flamboyant personality to the film instead of allowing themselves to be introduced to his character, Jack. Reviews of the film have focused more on Styles’ performance instead of the point of the film. This shows how the label of camp can be damaging when it is applied to female-centred films, as it diminishes them to nothing more than entertainment value.

By labelling films such as Don’t Worry Darling camp, these female led and focused works are delegitimised. Understanding this enables us to approach these movies with less preconceived ideas of the alleged ‘shallowness’ of the camp genre.

The question of gender bias must be asked when looking at the associations made between camp film, female led projects, and the viewing of these as merely aesthetic and not substantive. These films, which are often created with the female gaze in mind, are often criticised for being caricatures of femininity, yet this analysis is often implied by the audience rather than the creators and speaks more to a general lack of understanding of many women’s lived experiences. Many relevant and troubling issues are approached in ‘camp’ films like Showgirls, such as sexism, and the realities of the dangers women in the sex industry face. We, as enjoyers of these films, must be aware that the labels we apply to film, whether intentional or not, often colour the lens through which the message, and value of these works are perceived.

The ‘camp’ label itself is not inherently the issue. Instead, it is our relationship with the word that is the problem. Directors are reluctant to deliberately make camp films for female audiences because audiences view them as less important. General audiences and film critics alike, therefore, have a responsibility to approach films with an open-mind and challenge their own internal biases. A film can be camp and still be brilliant and impactful. Ultimately, camp should not mean bad.

Some Like it Hot, 1959

World wide Camp

Chiara Gregor

What’s the first thing you think of when you think of Camp? It might be movie like Death Becomes Her (Robert Zemeckis, 1992) or a TV show like Riverdale (Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa 2017-), a person like John Waters or Julia Fox, it might be the MET Gala… I have the suspicion that for many of us, a contemporary example of U.S. pop culture will be the first to come to mind. It’s not very surprising that all the above-mentioned examples are American: Susan Sontag’s Notes on Camp laid the foundations for a cultural Camp canon based on Western cultural history.

Lugar SIn Limites, 1978

Sexmission, 1984

Since then, the Camp sensibility and North American popular culture have been closely linked, especially in the discussion of cinema. But, as I hope to convince you in the following, Camp is a global phenomenon! As a starting point to expand our cinematic Camp canon, I present you with a short, very non-exhaustive watchlist of some top-notch international Camp movies.

Germany: The Bed Sausage – Die Bettwurst (Rosa von Praunheim, 1971)

First off is a film from my home country, because my first thought and immediate association with Camp is the undoubtedly most iconic German gay filmmaker Rosa von Praunheim. Honestly, all of his films (and outfits) are incredibly campy, but my favorite one is called “Die Bettwurst” – The Bed Sausage (1971). It is a hilarious parody of bourgeois married life, with improvised dialogue, exaggerated amateur acting, and a dramatic kidnapping finale. The “bed sausage” in question is a small neck pillow which Luzi (played by Praunheim’s aunt) gives to her beloved husband Dietmar for Christmas, in case you were wondering.

Mexico: Place Without Limits - Lugar sin límites (Arturo Ripstein, 1978)

I discovered this film when I was reading about the Mexican theorist Carlos Monsiváis, who wrote a response to Notes on Camp in 1966 with the brilliant title: “Idleness is a Royal Peacock Bored by the Afternoon Sun. Remarks on Camp in Mexico“. In it, he strongly rejects the notion that camp is apolitical, especially within the national context of Mexico: In Mexico, “camp is a prospect of justice and revenge” (Monsiváis, p. 191) – because it is intrinsically queer. He defines Camp as queer parody and refers to the character of Manuela in Place Without Limits as an essentially Camp figure. The title already suggest transgression across boundaries and borders of all kinds – This exuberant tragicomedy about the brothel-owner Manuela (Roberto Cobo) continually plays with gender performance, subverts dynamics of heterosexual desire, and includes a capitalist villain trying to buy an entire village.

Poland: Sexmission – Seksmisja (Juliusz Machulski, 1984)

Who doesn’t love a bit of Camp science fiction? Like for example Austin Powers, this Polish cult comedy is one of those movies that is so bad it’s good: Maksymilian and Albert participate in a scientific experiment where they are frozen alive and reawaken in the year of 2044. Much has changed: After an accidental bomb explosion, all men on earth have died and the planet’s surface has become uninhabitable. The surviving women have formed an underground society and are reproducing

society and are reproducing artificially through parthenogenesis. The awakening of the two heroes of the story causes chaos in this new world order. Without spoiling too much, it’s a must-watch for its underlying political satire, stellar cast, insane plot twists and for the amazing, extremely campy set design.

Japan: Electric Dragon 80.000V - Erekutorikku doragon 80000V (Gakuryu Ishii, 2001)

A big thank you to the person who featured this in their “Divine Trash – Best Camp Films” Letterboxd list – ranked above Beetlejuice or even Showgirls, this Japanese superhero action movie cranks the energy all the way up – literally. Dragon-Eye Morrison, an electrically charged and musically gifted boxer is taking on his arch nemesis Thunderbolt, half wizard, half metallic buddha. This one is sure to leave you reeling from sensory overload (in a fun way), induced by the pace, stylized comic-book aesthetics, shredding rock’n’roll music and talking lizards.

Electric Dragon 80.000V, 2001

Die Bettwurst, 1971

The French Dispatch, 2021