 |
| Images courtesy of Mubi |
Jane Schoenbrun's work has the uncanny ability to tap into the ephemeral emotional core of what makes art compelling and memorable. The small spaces between the big reveals, or the quiet, almost intangible moments where the viewer fully connects with whatever they are consuming. They are, in fact, obsessed with this concept, as it creeps into their work again and again, first appearing in We All Go to the World's Fair (2021) and finally manifesting completely in Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma (2026).
Kris Williams (Hannah Einbinder), a young filmmaker and the protagonist, is a stand-in for Schoenbrun, which they make no attempt to hide, even going so far as to put their name over the character when she is introduced in the opening credits. As much as this film is a love letter to slasher flicks, it is also a glimpse into what makes Schoenbrun tick as an artist, idealized in some ways, but self-deprecating in others. Gillian Anderson plays Billy Presley, an older actress who played the final girl in the first Camp Miasma entry. She is the personification of the older generations, the movies that "didn't age well" because of the era in which they were made. The idea here is that these films still have worth and can help the viewer discover things about themselves if they care to look deeper.
They are painfully self-aware of Hollywood's capricious nature, and the success of their previous film I Saw the TV Glow (2024) has opened more doors for them. What do they do with this opportunity? When there is so little trans/queer representation in film, are they obligated to make a statement, or can they create whatever they feel like, even if it might not be what is expected? Schoenbrun asks themselves these questions (and ultimately the audience) throughout the narrative, and the answers are unclear.
The beating heart of this film is its exploration of the connection between sexuality and fear, a concept made physical through the character Little Death (Jack Haven), the killer in the fictional Camp Miasma franchise, itself a spin on the Friday the 13th series. Horror movies are so compelling because they are an outlet for the taboo and a safe way for people to indulge in negative emotions without real-life consequences. At one point in the film, the phrase "If it gets too real, you can always turn it off" is emblazoned on a sign at the camp.
Is it fascinating to analyze the themes in horror films and deconstruct why they are there and what they mean? Absolutely, and as a film critic, this kind of thing is my bread and butter. However, this work is also asking us to just let ourselves feel the moment, to be present without the ironic detachment, the same way that Kris is chasing a guilt-free orgasm. Schoenbrun wants you to get out of your fucking head and enjoy something for once. Fear and ecstasy are essentially the same emotion in a different font. The so-called problematic elements in horror films are worth digging into, but they're also what makes the genre so intriguing, and the interplay between these conflicting ideals and emotions gives them life.
As the narrative goes on, it dives deeper into abstraction, starting as a satire of '80s slashers with lots of deep-cut nods to those in the know, then flirting with the idea of a meta take, then tossing that aside as too self-aware, and finally fully submerging itself into allegory. Little Death, portrayed by a nonbinary actor, reclaims trans representation in horror, directly addressing the vilification of queerness in previous works.
The most obvious example is Sleepaway Camp (1983), which has one of the most shocking and iconic endings of all time, that also completely hinges on "the killer is actually a boy, and we thought they were a girl!" in which his dangling penis is competing with a horrifying expression for the biggest jump scare. Camp Miasma mercilessly pokes fun at this mindset, showing how ridiculous it is. Little Death also gets one of the coolest murder montages of all time, as Schoenbrun effortlessly shifts the viewpoint from first person to third person to second person (!) letting the audience be the killer, the voyeur, and the victim all at once.
There is no way to get around the fact that Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma is a messy work that will only appeal to a niche subset that is on its exact wavelength. Being messy is part of the human experience, and art shouldn't shy away from it, even if not everyone will understand it.--Michelle Kisner