'Camp' Review: Avalon Fast's Witchcraft Tale Turns Grief Into Sisterhood

Avalon Fast's "Camp" opens with a devastating admission. During a casual game of truth or dare at a party, Emily — played by Zola Grimmer — reluctantly reveals that she once accidentally killed someone. By the end of that same evening, another death occurs under her watch. This dual tragedy sets the stage for a film that blends grief, guilt, and witchcraft into a meditation on female friendship and self-reclamation.

Rather than spiraling into despair, Emily heads to a summer camp for troubled children, where she takes on a role as a counselor. The irony is palpable: a young woman haunted by death is now tasked with supporting kids who are themselves struggling. The hope, it seems, is that surrounding herself with others navigating their own darkness might help Emily find a way back to the light.

A Tragic Beginning and a New Community

Upon arriving at the camp, Emily meets a group of girls who have been attending for years. They welcome her quickly, particularly the energetic Rosie, played by Cherry Moore, and Clara, portrayed by Alice Wordsworth, who serves as the group's unofficial leader. The dynamic among these young women forms the emotional core of the film, as bonds of trust and shared pain develop against a backdrop of forested seclusion.

The camp itself is meant to serve troubled children, but the actual kids become something of an afterthought for the counselors. The exception is Eden, played by Izza Jarvis, whose emotional volatility strikes a nerve in Emily. For the most part, the girls are far more focused on their own healing — and, as the story reveals, on the self-determining sorcery they practice together — than on their designated responsibilities.

Sisterhood, Witchcraft, and the Occult

Fast's film draws clear inspiration from "The Craft," while layering in an ethereal, forest-fairy visual style reminiscent of Florence + the Machine's aesthetic. The result is a distinctly indie production that embraces formal experimentation. Shimmering stars and artificial backdrops position the story in a liminal zone between the real world and a dream-like, intoxicating realm. The eeriness Fast cultivates is balanced by a sense of enigmatic wonder that, while not always subtle, gives the film a distinctive identity.

The witchcraft practiced by Emily and her friends operates less as a source of horror and more as a mechanism for reclaiming agency. Their rituals — moonlit dances, fiery ceremonies, and fragmented memories — are rendered with an ethereal quality through the lens of cinematographer Eily Sprungman. The supernatural elements serve a practical purpose: rebuilding self-esteem and reframing the traumatic experiences that have shaped these young women.

Performance and Emotional Depth

Grimmer's performance anchors the film with a carefully measured progression. Initially, Emily is eager for connection and willing to lose herself in drunken nights and camaraderie without disclosing her secrets. Her emotional journey — from sadness to despair, then toward acceptance and finally empowerment — unfolds with a credibility that makes the eventual catharsis feel earned. The pendulum of her emotions swings repeatedly before settling into something resembling peace.

The film makes no concessions to its male characters, committing fully to a celebration of supportive girlhood. Emily initially questions this disregard for men but ultimately accepts it as part of the pact she makes with her new circle. Notably, her strongest relationship with a man remains with her father, whom she calls regularly and speaks to honestly about her struggles, even though he cannot fully comprehend her pain.

Dan, played by Austyn Van de Kamp, is the God-fearing leader of the camp operation. During a drunken evening, he loses his virginity to Nev, portrayed by Lea Rose Sebastianis, one of the girls in the group. This encounter functions as a kind of sacrifice for the feminine force that grants the young women their powers. Another boy later falls prey to their activities, but the film avoids gruesome violence, opting instead for a melancholic, ethereal exorcism of the demons plaguing Emily's heart.

Horror Tropes Repurposed for Human Storytelling

"Camp" occupies a space comparable to Jane Schoenbrun's "Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma," not only because of the shared summer camp setting but also because both films subvert horror and supernatural conventions to explore deeply human concerns. Rather than exploiting genre tropes for gory entertainment, Fast uses them to dissect grief, guilt, and the search for belonging — all through a gendered lens that is central to the film's thematic impact.

What matters most in "Camp" is not the precise mechanics of the witchcraft but the emotional clarity the film achieves. The atmosphere is one of unpredictability and anticipation rather than outright danger. It evokes the feeling of hearing a slightly frightening story around a campfire, under an open sky, surrounded by people you trust. Once Emily commits to releasing the ties that bound her to her past, a new freedom emerges — and with it, perhaps new fears. She is no longer consumed by tragedy. A new, loving force holds her up.

If this exploration of grief, sisterhood, and the supernatural resonated with you, consider sharing this article with fellow film enthusiasts and joining the conversation about one of indie cinema's most evocative recent offerings.

Source: Variety