Jane Schoenbrun delves into the realms of horror with a hallucinatory twist in their latest film, Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma. As conversations around transgender issues intensify in society, Schoenbrun, a trans writer-director who prefers they/them pronouns, is swiftly establishing themselves as a prominent figure in American cinema. The film, which follows the success of their previous work I Saw the TV Glow, has expanded its reach to several multiplexes in Tarrant County this week, inviting audiences to embark on a captivating journey, albeit one that may require more than one viewing to fully comprehend.
The film’s opening credits set the tone with a visually engaging montage of memorabilia and clippings that outline the Camp Miasma horror franchise’s trajectory from a celebrated 1990s phenomenon to a series often ridiculed at the Razzies across 14 installments. The narrative unfolds in the present, centering on 29-year-old queer filmmaker Kris Williams, played by Hannah Einbinder, who is presented with the chance to reboot the series. Fully aware of the franchise’s history of transphobia, Kris, who identifies with both she and they pronouns, recognizes that the studio is leveraging her identity to modernize the franchise’s appeal.
On a snowy day in the Pacific Northwest, Kris journeys to the original filming location to meet Billy Presley, portrayed by Gillian Anderson. Billy, the lead actress from the original film, has retreated from the spotlight and now resides alone at the campsite. Their interaction revolves around an intriguing chemistry, as Billy embraces the role of the eccentric recluse, claiming that Little Death—the menacing figure from the films—will rise again from the depths of a nearby lake. Under Billy’s influence, Kris confesses her struggles with intimacy, revealing that she can only find pleasure by imagining herself as a character from the Camp Miasma series. Einbinder delivers a standout performance, embodying a movie nerd grappling with self-doubt, a role in which her talent shines. Anderson complements her with a performance rich in dark humor and playful sexuality, marking one of her finest since The House of Mirth in 2000.
The film dedicates a substantial portion of its runtime to showcasing clips from the original Camp Miasma, featuring a young Billy, played by Amanda Fix, as a heroine navigating her first sexual experience. Instead of merely mimicking the low-quality production typical of slasher films, Schoenbrun demonstrates their filmmaking prowess with an impressive one-take sequence during Little Death’s murder spree, capturing the perspectives of both the killer and the victims, all set to Counting Crows’ nostalgic tune “A Long December.”
The backstory of Camp Miasma reveals Little Death, played by Jack Haven, as a gender non-conforming boy whose tragic fate at the hands of fellow campers fuels a vengeful spirit targeting future generations. Kris identifies this narrative as the transphobic aspect of the story, but its nuances unfold further when we learn that Little Death’s first victim is a punk rocker who harbors intense hatred towards trans individuals. This layered storytelling not only captivates but also raises unsettling questions, particularly during an intimate scene where Billy reacts to the original film’s sex scenes alongside Kris. Their relationship culminates in a provocative moment when Kris finally achieves fulfillment by envisioning Little Death’s violent revenge—a striking metaphor that invites interpretation.
With plenty of imagery ripe for analysis by feminist and queer film scholars, the film’s significance transcends academic discourse. Kris’s pitch to a bewildered group of Hollywood executives reveals a deeper commentary on horror films, transforming Little Death into a manifestation of the fears that haunt our subconscious. In contrast to the more juvenile Scream franchise, Schoenbrun’s work layers metafiction with sharp satire, particularly when Kris conjures the executives and her agent to meet a gruesome fate at the hands of Little Death.
The film also successfully embraces the romance between its central characters. Schoenbrun and cinematographer Eric Yue create a stunning visual palette, with vibrant pink skies illuminating the lake where the protagonists share intimate moments, while the camp’s winter scenery morphs into a picturesque summer landscape as they walk into the sunset. This level of artistry is a rarity in slasher films, showcasing Schoenbrun’s extraordinary talent. The theme of interconnected identity permeates their work, and here it enriches the love story, as Kris discovers completeness through her affection for Billy—a poignant message that resonates deeply.
Through a blend of 1990s nostalgia, genre horror elements, and theatrical camp humor reminiscent of Charles Busch’s works, Schoenbrun crafts something refreshingly original. The culmination of these diverse influences results in the remarkable achievement that is Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma.
Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma
Starring Hannah Einbinder and Gillian Anderson. Written and directed by Jane Schoenbrun. Rated R.
