American Pie Presents Band Camp

Since its first appearance in 1998 the American Pie franchise has been making dwindling returns. Of course, any film which models itself on the Porky’s movies is hardly going to be a classic, but the first and perhaps second entries were marked by a certain agreeable charm which cut through the gross out shenanigans. Indeed, the industry clearly took note and the majority of those involved has since gone on to better things, whether that be directing the underrated About a Boy or collaborating with the likes of Kevin Smith and Woody Allen. Since then, however, we’ve also had to endure American Wedding and its dispiriting reliance on schmaltz and Seann William Scott. And now we arrive at this, American Pie Presents Band Camp, which does away with most of the original cast, ditches any of the charm that came with them, but keeps the mind-numbingly predictable Porky’s reference points.

The plotting, if you really care, sees Stifler’s little brother Matt (hitherto a minor character) being promoted to the lead role and replace by another actor. Following a pepper spray prank he’s sentenced to spending the summer away at the titular band camp which, of course, invited all the usual clichés. Petty rivalries emerge, tentative romances blossom, character building commences – all within the realms of shower rooms installed with hidden cameras, cum-filled suntan lotion bottles, spit-filled drinks cans and other such teen movie hallmarks which I’m sure you can guess at.

Indeed, Band Camp is nothing more than a film going through the motions, an episodic ramble lurching from one familiar set piece to the next. The fact that it is so blatantly predictable leaves you looking elsewhere for something to cling to, but of course nothing emerges. Certainly, the performances are nothing spectacular, just a collection of geek clichés and perky bosoms, whilst Tad Hilgenbrinck in the lead role simply borrows Scott’s most obnoxious tics and dishes them out at random.

There are perhaps two saving graces however: director Steve Rash and actor Eugene Levy who reprises his role from the previous three ventures having been squeezed into the storyline in the most tenuous of fashions. Rash, you may remember, once made the superb The Buddy Holly Story back in 1978. Since then it’s been a downward path encompassing Can’t Buy Me Love and respective sorry vehicles for Pauly Shore and Whoopi Goldberg, but he’s always displayed a workmanlike professionalism which has made his various efforts proficient to say the least. The same is true here even if it is clear that this is a film destined from the small rather than the big screen.

As for Levy he’s also a professional and can’t help but be appealing in even the most hopeless of situations (which, of course, means the majority of his filmography despite his standout performances from Christopher Guest).Yet whilst he and Rash both do an admirable enough job given the situations they’ve placed themselves in, you have to ask yourselves why they’ve agreed to do it in the first place. Ultimately it’s a case of taking the money and running – a fact that unfortunately means that we shouldn’t count on this being the last we’ll see of the American Pie brand name.

The Disc

As a new release from a major company, Band Camp looks and sounds as good as should be expected. We get an anamorphic transfer of a clean print and the colours look as bright and bouncy as is always the case with such movies. Indeed, there are no notable flaws to speak of though the film itself is blessed with only the most functional of photography. As for the soundtrack here we find, surprisingly, a DTS option alongside the standard DD5.1 mix. That said, there really is little need as Band Camp relies almost solely on its dialogue and a bland splattering of pop-punk across the soundtrack. Both are as technically sound as each other, however, even if the DTS hardly justifies its inclusion.

Equally surprising is the presence of a reasonable amount of extras, even if little are of any particular note. There’s a remarkable twenty deleted scenes to get through, the majority of which are extremely brisk and were presumably cut to keep the running time below 90 minutes. Plus we have the usual assemblage of outtakes, “secret rovercam footage” which may have been intended for inclusion in the finished film (as with the deleted scenes no context is given), and a music video consisting of various bikini-clad teens. All of which leaves a pair of featurettes which are engaging in their irreverence, though given the film itself these are hardly of much interest.