The Power of Camp

nik.mercer — Thu, 07 Feb 2008 07:45:02 -0800

“Camp” is a difficult creature to tame—too often it becomes a term that we use to reframe a shoddily-shot, poorly-scripted film as a work of ironic genius. This is the trick pulled by Teeth, the indie flick currently in theaters that’s winning inexplicable acclaim for its C-movie treatment of a thoroughly half-assed plot. Dawn (Jess Weixler), a virginal “promise ring” wearer, discovers that she’s cursed with a set of vicious teeth inside her…vagina. When she’s raped in the beginning of the film, her unsuspecting attacker soon finds his manhood severed from his body; he jumps in a lake, literally, where he soon dies from blood loss and is later dredged up by the cops. Our toothy protagonist then begins the difficult task of acclimating to her disorder; like Stephen King’s Carrie, she learns that her malevolent power has its uses—like castrating unrepentant male perverts, which, in Teeth, constitute 98.9% of the population.

Get it? Lest you think we’re dealing with a highbrow, brainy farce, let’s not forget to note that the acting is nonexistent, the dialogue repulsive, and the characters as stiff and unbelievable as cardboard dolls. Girl’s step-brother, Brad (John Hensley) is a tattooed wretch who spends his time engaging in rough anal sex and listening to heavy metal. (You grow to hate him, but not enough to find any delight in a scene in which his own cock is chomped off and eaten by a dog). This is gross, belittling stuff, the sort of movie John Waters would make if he was 18-years old and semi-retarded.

There’d be no point in complaining about Teeth’s daft positioning of itself as a thinking person’s black comedy if not for the critical reacharounds that it’s received. (It premiered at Sundance and won a Special Jury Prize for Acting, which should really give pause for thought). It’s a terrible film that should be recognized as such—not celebrated, as it has been, as a post-modern send-up of crappy horror tropes and “female revenge fantasies.” The minds behind Paul Verhoeven’s Showgirls once recouped the losses on their craptastic disaster by re-releasing it as a cult-style camp film, a knowing parody of itself—despite the fact that the Elizabeth Berkley vehicle had been made in total earnest. (Another Verhoeven film, Black Book, also turned melodramatic idiocy—this time about the Nazis--into critical gold in 2007). With Teeth, the indie film establishment has discovered you can cut out the middle-man and start by marketing your cut-rate drivel as “camp” from the outset—provided enough middling critics are willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, and the Sundance accolades.