Jane Schoenbrun’s “Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma” is an infinitely tangled and deeply meta film that manages to strike a subversive and nuanced tone. The satirical slasher-romance follows Kris (Hannah Einbinder), a self-described queer and indie filmmaker hired to reboot the tired “Camp Miasma” franchise. Kris tracks down the actress who played the “final girl” in the first movie, the reclusive Billy Presley (Gillian Anderson), who lives in the abandoned sleepaway camp on which the initial cult classic was set. What follows is a romantic, bloody romp that defies expectation at every turn.
Kris lives for her work, and seeks to revitalize the series (akin to the real-life “Scream” or “Sleepaway Camp” franchises, whose films’ quality decreases with each reboot) with a politically correct revival that interrogates the transphobic tropes at the heart of the first film. Furthermore, she has concluded that no spin-off can succeed without Billy — conveniently, her first on-screen crush.
Kris intellectualizes both the horror genre (her last film was a retelling of “Psycho” from the perspective of the shower curtain, meant to explore the intersection between queerness and cultural definitions of monstrosity) and her personal life. Perhaps due to her older age and life experience, Billy takes a much simpler approach. She tells Kris that the sequels fell short because they failed to emphasize the two things that underpin all of human existence: flesh and fluid. When Kris admits to not knowing much about either, she and Billy begin a sexual relationship-slash-mentorship that ties the film within the film together.
While there is a small supporting cast, the film primarily features Einbinder and Anderson, relying on their natural chemistry to elevate an already strong script. Einbinder, most known for playing a character in a relationship with another older woman on the hit show “Hacks,” showcases both her comedic timing and capacity for real vulnerability. Her performance is nuanced and layered — she is at once riddled with nerves, a traditional ingenue and a capable protagonist. As a Norma Desmond-esque recluse, Anderson is predictably glorious. Costumed in extravagant capes and sporting an excessive Southern accent, her trademark magnetism makes the film.
It’s evident that Schoenbrun had fun while playing with the classic tropes and style of the horror genre. The film is enhanced by subtle directorial choices: unconvincing sets blur the line between cinema and reality, and key perspective shifts give audiences a thoroughly unique bird’s eye view. A lesser filmmaker than Schoenbrun might have leaned into the obvious tropes of horror and taken more predictable turns. But “Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma” explicitly connects sex with death, and bodily attraction with bodily horror. Even the name of the killer, Little Death, is an allusion to “la petite mort,” the French term for orgasm.
What makes “Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma” so successful, apart from its performances and one stellar needledrop, is that it manages to incorporate social commentary without sacrificing the core elements of a slasher — gore, suspense, a haunting sense of place — or the requisite romance and sexual chemistry for a love story. The film is a delicate, audacious balancing act that highlights Schoenbrun’s talent and range as a writer-director. Their prior film, “I Saw the TV Glow” — an acclaimed and intimate exploration of transgender identity that relies heavily on allegory — similarly explores identity and self-discovery through genre, but takes a much bleaker approach. This film shares that depth but carries a facetious quality that makes it lighter and more playful.
“Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma” is tight and propulsive. It is accessible as both a slasher and romance, but thematically rich with fascinating commentary on identity, generational divides and sexual exploration. Movies become a very literal vehicle for self-discovery and pleasure — pleasure being what the film is ultimately about. Just don’t see it with your parents like I did.
