Theater Camp (Molly Gordon and Nick Lieberman, 2023). This affectionate spoofing of arts education summer camps where young thespians find their hit-the-back-row voices is too raggedy to be wholly satisfying. As directed by first-timers Molly Gordon and Nick Lieberman, Theater Camp lurches from one amusing idea to another without ever fully exploiting the comic potential. The signature example is the newly hired teacher, played by Ayo Edebiri, who doesn’t know anything about performing but brings a weird, unsettling energy to all her interactions. It’s a promising idea that never finds its way to being funny. Only when the film arrives at the homegrown homegrown musical developed by best pals Rebecca-Diane (Gordon) and Amos (Ben Platt) does it move with the verve and inspiration that it needs. The numbers aren’t at the same level of inspiration level as those in Corky St. Clair’s magnum opus in Waiting for Guffman, but there’s a similar spirit of beguiling earnestness to the semi-pro show tunes.

Inherit the Wind (Stanley Kramer, 1960). This thinly fictionalized version of the so-called Scopes Monkey Trial certainly stuffed full of the thumping social messages that director Stanley Kramer was known for. Based on the 1955 play of the same name, written by Jerome Lawrence and Robert Edwin Lee, Inherit the Wind largely sticks to the courtroom, where famed attorneys Henry Drummond (Spencer Tracy) and Matthew Harrison Brady (Fredric March) pontificate furiously over whether or not a schoolteacher (Dick York) can be prosecuted for teaching evolution in class. Tracy and March meet the material where it’s at, which means both their performances are bombastic enough that the smell of ham practically wafts from the screen. Gene Kelly is far more interesting as a Baltimore newspaper reporter on hand for the trial, moving through scenes with a cheerful cynicism. The film might be a plain hammer, but, as Kramer well knew, the world is full of nails that need driving. His belief in the message and overall skill with narrative storytelling gives the film a heft that ultimately matters more than its flaws.

Sweet Revenge (Jerry Schatzberg, 1976). The follow-up to Jerry Schatzberg’s exemplary misfit buddy picture, Scarecrow, this wryly comic drama follows Dandy (Stockard Channing), an inveterate troublemaker who hatches a scheme to steal and sell enough cars to legitimately purchase the vehicle of her dreams, a Ferrari Dino. Along the way, she leads on a former paramour (Richard Daughty) and enlists the help of a fellow skirter of the law (Franklyn Ajaye). When one of her crimes goes sideways, Dandy becomes the client of a public defender (Sam Waterston), who is enthralled by her to a degree that isn’t really supported by the plot. Given that conundrum, Waterson does the best he can with the character, but making the man cohere requires actorly prestidigitation that’s beyond him at this point in his career. Unsurprisingly, Channing is marvelous, absolutely reveling in the playfulness to be found in Dandy’s crafty malfeasance while also signaling the anger that naturally foments in a person who has figured out that all of society’s games are rigged against her. Schatzberg’s direction is perhaps too loose and unpolished, feeling like a series of first passes at the individual scenes. The raggedy nature of the film loses its charms and starts to appear to be merely a limitation.