Confessions from a Holiday Camp

I saw this film in 1977, aged 21, stoned, sitting up the back of the Odeon High Street Kensington, with some friends, smoking. And we laughed. We laughed a lot actually. Seeing it on DVD, in my lounge at home, aged 52, on a cold Friday night, by myself - well, surprise, surprise, it wasn't funny anymore. Not only is it of it's time but also of it's place in history. It's cheap, written without much imagination, with no real laughs and with some (by 2008 standards) cringe inducing racism and sexism. But for all that, like Carry On and Doctor films, it is remarkably easy to watch and has a fascinating British charm all of it's own. I suppose the appeal, at it's basic level - is simple. It says that even if you're ignorant, thick and ugly, you only have to smile and sexy women will fall all over you, even to the extent of lining up, five at a time, to hide in your wardrobe. If only real life were like that.