‘Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma’ review: An instant horror classic

Movie review

In “Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma,” the electrifying, boldly erotic new film from writer-director Jane Schoenbrun, the many contradictions of life and cinema are laid bare before us. A horror movie that cuts deeply into our relationship to both art and self, capturing the desires and anxieties that come bursting out, it’s not just one of the most bloody fun films of the year, but one of its most unexpectedly, distinctly beautiful. 

While this should come as no surprise to those who’ve seen Schoenbrun’s previous films, the melancholic “We’re All Going to the World’s Fair” and the incisive “I Saw the TV Glow,” there are plenty of exhilarating new ways they let loose here. Schoenbrun’s latest boasts not only their and cinematographer Eric Yue’s best visuals to date — including a breathtaking opening sequence of a blood geyser made largely practically and a madcap murder spree that feels like a playful riff on the recent horror gem “In a Violent Nature” — but also a through line about finding pleasure as radically earnest as it is evocative. It’s silly and sweet, yes, though also shattering, casting a spell you can only wish would never break. 

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Set in the Pacific Northwest, this all centers on Kris (perfectly played by Hannah Einbinder of “Hacks”), an acclaimed independent filmmaker who, following a series of critically heralded smaller films, has been tasked with rebooting a divisive slasher franchise. She decides to reconnect with the original film’s “final girl,” Billy Preston, who has secluded herself away from the world at the remote location where the original film was shot. Brought to life by a brilliant Gillian Anderson (“The X-Files”), Billy ends up revealing much to Kris not just about cinema, but about herself. As the lines between fictional horror and reality blur, Schoenbrun delightfully skewers their film’s allegorical nature just as they jubilantly embrace it. 

That embrace, while overflowing with pleasure, isn’t without pain. This is a film about how horror cinema can be a place of exploration and excitement but also cruelty toward some of the audiences (such as women, queer and trans people) who are most drawn to it. How does one then make sense of the allure such art can have and the subversive potential it offers while also reflecting on where it may still fall short? There is no singular answer, but for Schoenbrun, once more excavating the parts of their characters that hide or are forced to hide from the world, it’s about finding the liberatory in the libidinal. “Camp Miasma” is less a reclamation of horror and more a resurrection of its parts that have endured in the imagination of all who see it. It’s not about papering over anything, but bringing something vibrant and new to the surface. 

You can see this in astounding and affectionate action during a standout moment where Einbinder is held in captivating close-up, all of her wonderfully timed jokes giving way to something more sincere. It’s a scene that both slows everything down and speeds it all up, tying everything the film had been exploring together while also letting plenty of new meaning come bursting out. There are louder moments that follow, including a fantastic finale where the world of the film fully cracks open in front of us, but it’s this quieter, more intimate one where Einbinder and Schoenbrun’s talents come together to make something magical.

Though small in scope, taking place primarily at one location, “Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma” contains multitudes, proving to be a gleeful deconstruction of genre that brings a deep love for it and its characters. From its killer opening needle drop to its joyous final note, it’s a mirthful, metatextual and quietly moving miracle of a movie that already feels like a horror classic for a new generation.

‘Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma’ ★★★★ (out of four)
With Hannah Einbinder, Gillian Anderson, Jack Haven, Eva Victor, Jasmin Savoy Brown, Patrick Fischler, Amanda Fix, Zach Cherry, Sarah Sherman, Dylan Baker. Written and directed by Jane Schoenbrun. 112 minutes. Rated R for bloody violence, gore, sexual content, graphic nudity, drug use and some language. Opens Aug. 13 at SIFF Cinema Uptown in 35mm, Regal Meridian.

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