'Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma' Review
- Dempsey Pillot
- 8 hours ago
- 5 min read
Release Date: 08/07/26 [Cinemas]
Genre: Drama. Horror. Romance. Thriller.
MPAA: Rated R.
Distributor: MUBI.
The Verdict: A Must-See
An indie director is given the chance to resurrect her favorite horror franchise. What the studio doesn’t know is that she wants the original “final girl” to return to star. As she heads up to a remote cabin in the woods to try to court her, the line between what’s real, what’s not, and what’s hot becomes stylishly blurred in Jane Schoenbrun’s latest, Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma.
As the title implies, the film pays homage to some of the campiest films ever set at a summer camp. From Friday the 13th to Sleepaway Camp, there is no shortage of clever callbacks. And in an opening montage depicting the meteoric rise and fall of the fictional Camp Miamsa franchise, you feel Schoenbrun holding the mirror to Friday specifically. From the initial mysticism surrounding the first entry to sudden, overwhelming cultural relevance, to redundancy, to death, to profit-driven revival, we are shown how the once-rare and vicious cycle has become the new norm for all intellectual property.
The way studios are so quick to pimp out IP is, in a way, worse than death itself. Or so Kris (Hannah Einbinder) believes. It’s why she feels so compelled to save the Camp Miasma franchise. Early on, we learn the original is one of the reasons she became a filmmaker. Though the studio clearly brings her aboard the reboot as a diversity hire, she is determined to use the clout she’s earned from her hit Sundance debut to bring the franchise back to life. That includes going back to the series’ roots and chatting with the first “final girl.” Enter Billy Presley, the latest iconic character to be portrayed by the brilliant Gillian Anderson.
When we first meet Presley, she is a recluse who claims she retreated from fame after the first film, even though it also awakened something inside her. Rather than move on, she’s decided to move into the set of the original Camp Miasma. That’s where she’s been since. And some late-night chatter behind closed doors hints that she may not be alone.
Here, Einbeinder continues to prove she’s a star. Her cautious yet charismatic portrayal of Kris not only makes her relatable but also serves as the perfect surrogate for the audience as it enters this world for the first time. However, it’s Anderson’s inviting yet intimidating nature that dominates the film. She plays the character with the perfect hint of mystery, and even Kris doesn't know how she feels about her. It isn’t until the end that we learn whether she’s protecting a sinister secret or her heart.
Kris eventually becomes enamored with Billy. So much so that she’s convinced her film can only be made if she returns to her original role (a bit that literally calls out the numerous times Jamie Lee Curtis was called back to resurrect Halloween). After pitching the idea to the studio, the single meeting with Billy becomes a days-long retreat in which they unravel the film’s meaning and their shared love for it and for each other.
On one level, Camp Miasma is a movie within a movie, but Schoenbrun primarily uses it as a metaphor representative of the power of what comforts us. For Kris, it’s the one franchise in the world so much she built an entire career on it. For Billy, it’s the one thing she knows so well she refuses to leave. But on another level, it's representative of how we can build relationships around common interests. When Kris and Billy both first meet, they rub each other like sandpaper. Despite Billy’s initially suspicious behavior, it’s their mutual love for the film that creates the foundation for them to fall for each other too.
Schoenbrun takes a major swing in trying to equate falling in love with surviving a massacre. Camp Miasma’s (and the film’s) horror mascot Little Death eventually arrives and turns their lives into a bloodbath. The execution is admittedly a bit silly. But it's a comparison that works because, as it turns out, we ultimately have to kill off tiny parts of our lives to find true happiness.
It’s Schoenbrun’s direction that truly shines here, though. Not only does she fill the film with so many visual Easter eggs and homages to some of the genre’s best, but she also continues to carve out her own unique style. The best examples of the latter are the matte establishing shots of Camp Miasma. When Kris arrives, it literally feels like she’s about to enter a 2D storybook, further blurring the lines between reality and the delusion Kris experiences at the camp.
The one sequence that will go down as the film’s biggest highlight is the debut of Little Death. Despite showing up halfway through the film - and proceeding to net about 10 minutes of total screentime - Little Death makes quite the impression. The first time they arrive, it’s in a semi-flashback during a viewing of the original Camp Miasma. The monster rises from the depths of the camp’s lake to wreak terror on the unlucky first bunch of counselors. What makes the sequence particularly stylish is not its length or the contrast set by The Counting Crows’ song “Long December.” It’s the way Schoenbrun pops in and out of first-person point of view. After putting us in the killer’s shoes, we take a step back and see Little Death’s sad reaction to the murders. The appearance of such immediate guilt adds an extra dimension of empathy to horror films audiences are often too enamored to think about.
One of the film’s few shortcomings is that the idea isn’t explored much further. In her final pitch to the studio in the third act, Kris also ponders if the way we consume horror is backward. And that the films we adore have been watching us instead. It’s another exciting idea the film stops just short of exploring.
Between its core mystery, distinct color palette, and strangely relatable characters, Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma feels like one of the best fever dreams David Lynch never made. Despite leaving some really interesting ideas on the table regarding how we consume media - and how it consumes us - Schoenbrun still succeeds at creating a smart commentary on the similarities between love and gore. Whether you agree with her thesis or not, it’s hard not to resist such a kinky, bloody blast.
