Schoenbrun’s bizarre meta slasher seeks to dissect the before and after of finding yourself in both an elusive and viscerally coherent explosion of fantasy and flesh.
All at once an homage, a takedown and a celebration of the trashy B movie slasher, filmmaker Jane Schoenbrun’s riotous third feature is an absolute blast from start to finish. Their films have typically dealt with the trans experience in often hard to immediately understand forms and Schoenbrun’s has themself admitted that their first two features were made in a darker, post transition phase. Despite this there has always been a refusal to conform to a more generic portrayal of trans stories seen often in movies of the 2010s like The Danish Girl or Dallas Buyers Club. Their uncompromising approach can be difficult to penetrate but there is a depth of theme that always feels rich and alive.
With Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma there is a greater sense of fun and acceptance not just within the director themself but on a wider, broader spectrum. By comparing sexual experience to the voyeuristic escapism of watching a monster slash up teens with an axe the film creates a sometimes messy but extraordinarily entertaining conversion of ideas that should be universally relatable. Notably, Schoenbrun still works in a particular niche that no one else seems to be even close to touching on but this film seems to have evolved their work in more satisfying, accessible ways.
The cineliteracy at the heart of the film is as joyous as the freaky bloodbaths that put a spotlight on the type of fleshy desire the characters are exploring. Camp Miasma is an 80s slasher franchise once revered and since revived to the point of zombification. Think Friday the 13th, Halloween and A Nightmare on Elm Street. There’s a cult following and some good stuff in the mix but this series is dead in the water.
Tasked with reviving the Camp Miasma series is Kris (Hannah Einbinder) a young queer filmmaker who gained some traction from her first art-house project described as “Psycho from the POV of the shower curtain”. She is hungry to create something new and different and the execs love the idea of a “woke” spin on the IP. Maybe the move will revitalise the series and wash it of its historically less progressive, bad taste attitudes. Think Nia Dacosta’s Candyman or Leigh Whannell’s The Invisible Man – different world, different approaches, potential big bucks.
She has got a gold dust meeting with the final girl from the first Camp Miasma, of which Kris had her queer awakening and remains a huge fan, Billy Presley (Gillian Anderson) now a recluse and living in the abandoned camp grounds from the first film. While earmarked as a meeting to discuss the project the pair become intimately connected in more ways than one and thus begins the maddening odyssey towards Kris and Billy’s liberation.
Einbinder is perfect as Kris, she has a knowing smirk and delivery that make her both suited to an independent experimental sapphic romp and the schlocky victim in a hokey slasher. Anderson goes bigger and plays Billy borderline ridiculous but this again works for the film’s vision and she sometimes switches to an icy clarity that grounds her role as the person that’s lived the turmoil Kris is going through. Everyone involved fully understands the assignment and surrenders to the film’s vision which is inundated with eye catching, pulpy visuals. This is complete with painted backdrops winking at the construction in both our lives and our entertainment.
At the core of the drama is a comedic tone that always reminds us that we are here to have fun and watch a movie. The central villain of Little Death (Jack Haven) is a violent force who gets off on slaying teens with a spear and donning a giant air vent for a head. The character is joyous in its encapsulation of the type of fear a person feels before a momentous act. In this case it’s that first sexual experience when you know you’re terrified but you feel the fear and do it anyway.
Schoenburn’s direction is fearless and fresh, providing multiple viewpoints both literally and through a more metaphorical mind’s eye. They invite us to experience that feeling of helplessness and euphoria without giving a clear message on any of the film’s many meanings and how cinema can be the catalyst for a comfort in people who struggle with intimacy and identity. This is a space for people who don’t fit in and a deeply unjudgemental one at that.
4 / 5
An engaging multi-genre romp, a deeply layered celebration of the slasher genre and a moving testimony to letting go, Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma is unique and necessary cinema.
