So far, my track record with Jane Schoenbrun’s features has been spotty. We’re all going to the World’s Fair left me cold; I saw the TV glow tickled my suburban malaise. Their third film, The Tie-Break, Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma? Its concept is a siren call: a metatextual slasher that comments on Hollywood’s obsession with intellectual property translated into a woke romance. And yet, Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma is a film internally at odds. A stunning love story wrapped in a choppy shell of a film within a film that feels respectful, and Yet Schoenbrun’s conversation about reevaluating problematic media, as well as the film’s storyline’s slippery shapeshifting, gets somewhat lost in translation.
Hannah Einbinder plays Kris, a queer filmmaker newly acclaimed for her arthouse horror film shot from behind the shower curtain in Psychologythe point of view. She is hired to restart the Camp Miasma slasher franchise – one intentional imitate Friday the 13thright down to the box art font and onwards into space. Kris is the prototype of the “woke” rental (in terms of a clueless producer) who can infuse Camp Miasma with “high horror” prestige, which must present the perfect original plan. But Kris is a Camp Miasma superfan and desperately wants the original final girl, Billy Presley (Gillian Anderson), to return. So, she meets the recluse Billy to return to her original life Camp Miasma filming location, where she intends to convince the actress to return… but the flesh and lust oppose it.
The draw here is Einbinder as the repressed, self-seeking representation of modern hipster movie culture, and Anderson as the old-school, battle-worn veteran who shrugs off offense. Their chemistry, two generations of women stuck in an archaic industry, could melt the snow outside Billy’s winter wonderland cabin. Schoenbrun’s playful gaze as Kris and Billy embrace flirtatiously is as steamy as it is deliciously offbeat: How can you sensualize dipping Kentucky Fried Chicken in gravy cups? Anderson’s southern belle accent only accentuates Billy’s evolution from hospitable idol to erotic mentor, while Einbinder depicts the courageous energy of a late bloomer confronting his darkest, deepest desires. They are fantastic; Schoenbrun’s compositions Portrait of a lady on fire are appropriate as Anderson and Einbinder light up the screen.
Throughout Kris’ journey, Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma becomes a commentary on the moral panic against slasher films and the lasting effects of desensitization at a young age. Camp Miasma The villain is called “Little Death” (Jack Haven) – a Jason Voorhees type, except he replaces the mask with an air conditioning vent and sprinkles in the Angela Baker story. Little Death refers to post-orgasm “unconsciousness”, which is linked to the phallic and often financial nature of slasher deaths, and informs Kris’ unusual arousal. Billy doesn’t judge the connection between Kris’s carnal pleasure and Little Death’s brutal murder scenes, nor does he cite shame. With tenderness and compassion, Schoenbrun uses Billy and Kris to explore the hope of acceptance at any age – where outsiders see Little Death as a thing to be feared, those who understand horror and engage with the themes of the genre discover the opposite of fear: comfort.
Yes, Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma is comforting. As Kris crunches white powder under her boots, she walks toward the original. Camp MiasmaSchoenbrun opts for the traditional happiness of matte glass landscapes, almost in protest against LED screen technology. As Kris snacks on gummy candies, surrounded by packs and packs of squishy treats as she digests another one Camp Miasma sequel to bed, Schoenbrun wants us to appreciate the sweet side of his picture, as we devour each scene like our favorite junk food. When the surrealism ramps up, the beauty of Schoenbrun’s technical choices shines through, juxtaposed with the dulcet tones of Alex G’s soothing music. Horror cinema’s monstrous reputation is softened, explained, and stripped down for the audience to delve into, in order to explain Kris’s obsession with Little Death.
But then there’s the meta-horror satire of it all. Camp Miasma is a franchise, but it’s also a living, breathing universe within Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma. We came out of Kris and Billy’s arc and dropped off in front Camp Miasma, watching entire scenes unfold, only for Schoenbrun to redefine what even is Camp Miasmato the The final girls. Kris’ desire to honor Billy’s legacy is met with disapproval from his money-hungry agent (Sarah Sherman) and market-friendly studio bosses (Dylan Baker), then spirals out of control when Little Death breaks free from a celluloid prison. Wires begin to cross, and although Schoenbrun’s metaphors are blunt and their messages obvious, the film’s narrative begins to fracture.
It’s not Frightmaster Wes Craven’s new nightmare Or Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon. It’s a French New Wave punk-rock slasher. It’s Michel Gondry who rejects the traditions of campfire horror. This is an auteurism outside of the studio machine, which as a concept is admirable, but instead of Schoenbrun’s cerebral height biting, it’s like an arrow that fails to find the target.
At times, Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma is like an academic investigation presented in lighter terms, but nonetheless stimulating for a lay audience. Slashes has endured decades of widespread misogyny, gender deviance, and queer panic, and Schoenbrun’s screenplay responds with dialogue to its searing discussions as gender evolves with society. Even if, to the detriment, Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma feels cerebral “Horror Twitter,” aimed at a certain subset of discourse jockeys who appear every other week. Its roasts are a little too on the nose, from Blumhouse to Sleep campand while completely valid when discussing issues like transphobia, jokingly asserts his woke repetitions as if they were brand new discoveries, which detracts from impact.
Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma will top many a “Best Of” this December, fueled by Schoenbrun’s spark of sharp psychosexual originality. What works definitely works, right down to the blood geysers when Little Death disgustingly hacks Camp Miasma stereotypical characters aside from an indie shoegazer track (oh hey, a Trash from Return of the Living Dead lookalike). There is such a charming bond between Einbinder and Anderson that not only provides buttery popcorn entertainment, but also possesses a sensual magnetism as they choose pleasure over pain. However, there’s a cobweb of storytelling that becomes too sticky for its own good, and the film’s humor – which keeps the entire horror ecosystem above the flames – feels like rereading old threads on an internet forum. Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma may stray from Schoenbrun at times, but there is no doubt that they have created something fearlessly commendable.
Movie score: 3/5
