“Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma” explores many themes through its metatextual meditation on genre filmmaking and fandom. One of the biggest is the divide between intellect and emotion, the rational brain versus the irrational heart and how that tension can exist at the crux of enjoying horror movies, even (especially) the problematic ones. Writer/director Jane Schoenbrun crafts a beautiful film that dances between those two sides of the audience engagement coin. Unfortunately, they err too much on the side of the logical thought rather than the instinctual feeling, which creates a distance from “Camp Miasma” viewers. Schoenbrun is incredibly vulnerable here, but they appear to be uncomfortable with that vulnerability and thus winks and other meta asides to avoid being seen too clearly or judged too harshly. Make no mistake, “Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma” is a brilliant triumph, it just feels a bit too removed, becoming a film that is intensely liked instead of easily loved.
Kris (Hannah Einbinder) is a Queer indie darling filmmaker who has been given the opportunity to reboot the famed “Camp Miasma” slasher series with a fresh take on an origin story while providing cover to the studio for the franchise’s problematic elements. As she begins preparing her pitch, she seeks out reclusive Billy Presley (Gillian Anderson), star and final girl of the first “Camp Miasma” movie who abruptly retired after the first film and now lives in seclusion in the abandoned camp where it was filmed decades ago. As Kris and Billy hang out, the pair finds in each other kindred souls who love “Camp Miasma” on levels that they can’t easily articulate. Meanwhile, the killer from the series—Little Death (Jack Haven)—awaits a return to the screen and the world at large through the duo’s activities.
Candy is a big motif in “Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma.” It pops up throughout the film as Kris and Billy consume it and it even becomes part of the set decoration in certain sequences. Like so much in Schoenbrun’s film, it’s an extended metaphor about something we know is “bad” but we enjoy it nonetheless. Confections make us fat and give us cavities and diabetes with their sugar and empty calories, and yet it also provides a sweet indulgence that allows us to enjoy something that provides us with fleeting comfort and pleasure. That disparity is found in the fandom of many old school horror films—“Friday the 13th,” “Sleepaway Camp,” “The Burning,” and more—where people love the atmosphere, lustful set pieces, and elaborate kills, yet recognize that it’s not exactly “high art.” But we elevate those movies, investigate them for social commentary (even as the original filmmakers disavow any greater messaging), and find ways to square our progressive values (and contemporary identities) with something that can easily be seen as regressive, puritan, or even offensive.
Kris loves “Camp Miasma” series—and it’s clear that Schoenbrun also has great affection for the titles of the slasher boom of the ‘80s—but also is compelled to acknowledge all its problematic elements as well. Sometimes literally, as when she and Billy are rewatching the first “Camp Miasma” and Kris points out the transphobic nature of the villain’s origin story. That divide also extends to sexuality, where Kris is too often in her own head rather than simply experiencing the moment of pleasure. She wants to give in to her own (possibly transgressive) desires but often finds it at odds with how she views the world and herself. That tension between the head and the heart is what quietly fuels the propulsive nature of “Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma” which makes for an interesting dichotomy and examination.
Unfortunately, it’s more interesting than it is moving; any time “Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma” gets too sincere or raw, the film seemingly pulls back with a nod to another horror franchise, an acknowledgement of what’s currently being unsaid, or some overly artificial bit that puts it at a remove. And those aspects are amusing, insightful, and aesthetically pleasing, but they aren’t emotionally engaging; instead, it feels like some sort of retreat from vulnerability. If “Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma” is about (amongst many other things) the battle between the intellectual and the emotional, the intellectual clearly wins out to the movie’s detriment.
And yet that doesn’t make it bad at all. Schoenbrun’s film is a thoroughly unique and compelling watch that tackles topics in ways that few other movies have tried. When its guard is down, it is a brilliant affecting piece on identity, sexuality, desire, fandom, and more. “Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma” is also gorgeous to look at, captured elegantly by DP Eric Yue like something out of a hazily recalled dream with wonderful matte paintings and sequences that are so inspired that they will stay with audiences long after the credits roll. Einbinder and Anderson are positively electric in their roles, with a scorching chemistry that allows for greater emotional revelations and engagement. Some of the lore of “Camp Miasma” films-within-a-film don’t make sense (and there’s more than a few anachronisms), but that’s also part of the charm of it; Schoenbrun is playing with tropes and they are having fun winking about that saccharine artifice that so many of us horror hounds love.
“Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma” is a wonderful film that interrogates how we all consume the things we love, even when those things don’t love us back. It looks at the push/pull of our higher brain functions versus our baser instincts and the tension that arises between them, as well as the pleasure that comes from surrendering ourselves to those indulgences. Schoenbrun has made a brilliant movie that is occasionally too smart for its own good, making it sometimes emotionally elusive instead of as engaging as need be. Still, “Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma” is a unique experience from a powerful emerging voice in filmmaking that will have audiences mulling it over in their heads for decades to come.
4 / 5 Stars
Directed by: Jane Schoebrun
Starring: Hannah Einbinder, Gillian Anderson, Jack Haven, Sarah Sherman, Jasmin Savoy Brown, Amanda Fix, Kevin McDonald, Patrick Fischler, Zach Cherry, Aren Buchholz
