Don’t spend the summer at “Camp”
Just to lay my biases out there, I am a summer camp person. I went to summer camp, I love summer camp, I wish I could go back to summer camp. I have a box of tie-dyed T-shirts I made at summer camp in an attic somewhere— listen, one day, even if it is after the apocalypse, tie-dye will be back in and then I will be prepared— and I refer to “Brown-Eyed Girl” as a “camp song” and on and on and on in that moony-eyed way of people obsessed with summer camp. (I say moony-eyed, you may say unbearably annoying: you do you.) I am admittedly, proudly, a prime target for all fictions about summer camp because I am automatically on board with their basic premise: summer camp is the best and most magical and most heightened place and we should all be there all the time.
And so it was with a sinking stomach that I watched NBC’s “Camp,” which begins tonight and chronicles the madcap happenings at Little Otter, a summer camp that only makes summer camp seem a teensy bit fun. Adjusting for my bias-to-summer-camp, I would guess that a normal person would find “Camp” wholly mediocre. I found it pretty mediocre, but was still powerless to stop watching: I’m sorry, but there is just something about lakes with specially designated swimming areas that bliss me out.