CAMPER. A Film That Feels Like a Vacation Video [REVIEW]

“Get on any train (…) watch everything fall behind,” sang Maryla Rodowicz. The characters of Camper choose a different means of transportation (the title gives it away), but they too decide to set off without knowing exactly what fate has in store for them. This is how Łukasz Suchocki’s directorial debut begins.

Working on a film set is nothing new for the filmmaker — he has been active as a cinematographer for many years. He decided to shoot Camper together with a handful of industry friends — and he actually did so several years ago, specifically at the start of the pandemic lockdown. That’s not the only reason Camper stands apart from standard independent productions — Suchocki chose to put strong trust in his actors’ talent and shot a film largely based on improvisation.

In Camper, we follow Robert (Michał Krzywicki), Klaudia (Dagmara Brodziak), Filip (Szymon Milas), and Wera (Aleksandra Jachymek). And we follow them quite literally, as the camera behaves like one of the characters — trailing them, catching them in intimate moments, stumbling upon their moments of weakness, revealing their secrets to us. It becomes, to an extent, our “eyes” within this story. Combined with improvised dialogue — and therefore a strong sense of naturalism — this approach gives the impression that we’re not so much watching a feature film as we are a holiday recording of a group of friends.

I don’t see this as a flaw, because what comes with it are genuine, heartfelt emotions — and those are what most strongly engage the viewer here. Though we observe the characters only in fragments at different stages of their journey, their conversations let us sketch a full picture of who they are and understand their fears and desires. All the more so because there are moments when they clearly feel the need to say these things out loud and unload the burden weighing on their hearts. And the new surroundings — neutral locations far from home — provide the right circumstances. The characters of Camper are searching for their place in life, worrying about financial matters, working through relationship issues, and not trying to sugarcoat anything. Suchocki doesn’t impose a narrative — the characters shape themselves, or rather the actors do, embracing spontaneity in their dialogue.

Although all four handle this convention very well, the heart of the film, for me, is Weronika as portrayed by Aleksandra Jachymek — an intriguing, sensitive character who also takes part in the film’s most emotional scene. Filip, played by Szymon Milas, seems to get less screen time — on one hand it leaves you wanting more, but then again, isn’t there always that one more withdrawn person in any group of friends?

Camper can also be seen as a kind of time capsule, taking us back to the reality of a few years ago, when wearing face masks was a daily routine and simply being outdoors carried the risk of catching a virus. When watching these scenes, one gets the impression that far more years have passed since the outbreak of the pandemic — so much happens each year that it’s difficult to keep up with reality. This makes it even easier to understand the characters’ desire to leave their everyday lives behind, discover new places, and meet new people.

Camper is short — only about 80 minutes — which makes it all the more reminiscent of a keepsake holiday video recorded by a group of thirty-somethings. Suchocki doesn’t try to guide the story toward a turning point. Don’t expect a closed ending that ties up all narrative threads and neatly sums up the story of each of the four protagonists. Camper is a film experienced on an emotional level, with the viewer stepping into the role of a companion to the main characters — how successful the viewing will be depends largely on one’s personal sensitivity. As for me, this story won me over, and I watched the shifting, sun-soaked landscapes, the montages accompanied by Tomasz Makowiecki’s songs (a great idea to include a cover of a popular ’90s hit), and the characters’ glances — expressing doubt and sadness, but also hope for the future — with genuine reflection.