Copper Mountain (1983)

Copper Mountain is less a polished comedy than a wonderfully weird postcard from the early ’80s, the kind of TV-movie time capsule where neon nightlife, ski-resort vibes, and pop performances mingle like they were always meant to. The real hook is watching a young Jim Carrey in his pre-superstar phase, firing off elastic impressions and raw comic energy that feels like catching lightning before anyone knew its name. Between the music and the breezy, anything-goes atmosphere, it plays like a party you can drop into for 90 minutes—sometimes genuinely funny, sometimes darkly funny for how offbeat it all is. It’s not for viewers craving tight storytelling or refined humor, but if you love nostalgia, oddball curios, and “how did this get made?” charm, it’s an easy yes.

Copper Mountain is trying to be a breezy, MTV-era hangout comedy set at a ski resort, mixing light romance antics with lots of music and vacation vibes. The problem is it barely functions as a movie: the “story” feels like an excuse to string together musical performances and Club Med-style promo scenes, so if you need an actual plot or jokes that build, you’ll likely get bored fast. Even with a young Jim Carrey popping up, the humor and pacing are scattershot and the whole thing comes off unoriginal and oddly pointless. If you’re only in the mood for a dated time capsule with background-friendly songs and snowy scenery, you might tolerate it; otherwise, your time is better spent elsewhere.