Do you ever get the itch to revisit the summer camp you attended when you were a kid? If so, this movie is for you. Mike Binder’s nostalgic comedy Indian Summer (1993) is largely autobiographical, filmed on location at Canada’s Camp Tamakwa, where both he and horror director Sam Raimi spent several summers (Raimi co-stars as the camp director’s dimwitted handyman).
Camp director “Unca” Lou (Alan Arkin) is preparing to retire, so he invites a handful of his favorite campers — some of whom continued on as counselors for a while before beginning their adult lives — back for a week of fun, games and nostalgia. The former kids are now adults, and most of their lives are somewhat troubled. They arrive at the camp mostly to please Unca Lou, but once there, old memories awaken, friendships reassert and they reconnect with their younger, idealistic selves.
The camp represents innocence and happier times for these characters, and their return to it allows them to rethink what they have done with their lives, challenge the paths they are taking and ignite the spirit to do something different. To my mind, there is a great deal of wisdom beneath the comedy.
And it is funny. Brad Berman (Kevin Pollak) considers himself the “shrek king” (“shreks” are practical jokes, termed such long before the lovable ogre became a movie hero), yet it is he who falls victim to his friends over and over again. Many of the traditional camp customs reappear, such as midnight munchies, panty raids and smoking in secret. Old rivalries and romances are renewed, hopes and dreams are recalled and relationships are tested, all under the watchful eyes of Unca Lou.
Perhaps my favorite scenes involve communing with nature. There is an old moose about which Unca Lou reminds everybody and takes them to visit. After two minutes, they’re bored and ready to go swimming. But that moose represents the living history of the place, and a few of the characters come back to it, reconnecting with the wonder of the world as they recall it through younger eyes. My rating: ✰ ✰ ✰ ½. (6:4).