The book of my life would have a good portion devoted to college. So much of the person I am today was molded by those years of debaucherous youth. Most of my friendships, most of my favorite memories, many of my firsts. And as the distance grows, so does the nostalgia. All the ridiculous moments and inside jokes seem more colorful in hindsight, and if there is anything about David Wain‘s Wet Hot American Summer that seems unflawed, it’s this same concept. Like almost no other movie, Wet Hot achieves its real distinction in the joy of repeated viewings. More than twenty if you really want to do it right. Bizarre absurdity, which much of this movie banks on, becomes less offensive as it grows more familiar. Not unlike the average college experience.