Oft-cited film professor Carol J. Clover posited that horror films, and slashers in particular, tap into society’s repressed fears of gender in her 1992 book Men, Women, and Chain Saws: Gender in the Modern Horror Film. More acutely, Clover theorized how slashers use sexuality to explore those fears, and how they depict violence as a product of damaged or dysfunctional sexual identity. The final confrontation between the “final girl“, a phrase Clover coined, and the killer often carries sexual symbolism, frequently made more overt by the phallic nature of the killer’s weaponry.
I Saw the TV Glow filmmaker Jane Schoenbrun gives Clover’s theory their own inspired spin with Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma, but not quite in the way you’d expect. Schoenbrun’s meta slasher isn’t commenting on the genre itself but rather the personal, applying Clover’s theory to a joyously blood-soaked vision of letting go and discovering the pleasures of sex. Through their protagonist’s descent into slasher mania, Schoenbrun explores their own fears through the loving lens of horror.
That’s certainly reflected in Kris (Hannah Einbinder), a director tasked with rebooting the 14-filmCamp Miasma franchise. Determined to make her mark and shake things up, Kris fixates on the performance by the original film’s star and final girl, Billy (Gillian Anderson), and sets out to convince the reclusive actress to sign onto the reboot. That means venturing out to where Billy lives: the original location where Camp Miasma was filmed. Billy believes that the series’ killer, Little Death (Jack Haven), is real and still lurking around the campgrounds.
As her week with Billy wears on, deeply immersed in all things Camp Miasma, the more Kris suspects Billy may be right.
Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma trades the somber existential terror of Schoenbrun’s previous films in favor of light-hearted humor and, well, camp. That’s evident from the outset, which introduces the fictional film within this film and its eye-catching killer, complete with cheeky decapitations that yield geysers of blood. The killer’s name, Little Death – a poetic euphemism for an orgasm – is the first tipoff to Schoenbrun’s humorous and heartfelt intention, one that only grows sharper and more pronounced the further into delirium and self-discovery that Kris falls.
Schoenbrun salutes the greats, namely Friday the 13th and Sleepaway Camp, with reverence. That’s not just reflected in the deep lore of the fictional 14-film franchise, but in the retro-styled Camp Miasma sequences. This meta slasher heavily embraces humor, but takes its craft seriously. A stunning montage sequence midfilm unleashes Little Death for exquisite carnage upon a slew of unlucky camp counselors, with Haven making nimble work of tricky blocking and dizzying single-take camerwork while wielding a monstrously phallic weapon. All set to Counting Crows’ “A Long December.”
It’s a film that uses matte painting backdrops, practical effects, and a heavy emphasis on junk food to blur the lines between reality and film. All in service to the film’s playful tone, too. There is an argument to be made that Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma is more stoner comedy than pure horror.
Above all, it’s a mesmerizing two-hander. Anderson turns in a career best performance as Billy, channeling Sunset Boulevard‘s Norma Desmond as Kris’ eccentric and challenging guide into the deep depths of Camp Miasma. Billy is the calm, aloof one of the two, often quick to light up a joint in answer to Kris’ anxious probing. It’s the pas de deux between this seemingly unlikely pair that brings much of this film’s infectious magic. The sizzling chemistry between the pair also helps.
Of course, it’s Kris who undergoes the bigger journey, beginning the film trapped in a polyamorous relationship with Mari (Jasmin Savoy Brown) and Mari’s boyfriend Thor (Aren Buchholz) before getting plunged into the deep end to confront her sexual hangups. Einbinder captures Kris’ immobilizing fears, loneliness, and vulnerability with warmth, making the eventual embrace of her own sexuality all the more rewarding.
Once the climax arrives, though, Schoenbrun seems unsure how to finish (pun intended?), tacking on a muddled saccharine ending that veers a little too off the rails. It’s also overlong and prone to a few lulls in pacing for a film that’s fairly straightforward with a simple concept. But it is Schoenbrun’s most accessible feature yet, while sacrificing none of the artistry. Fantasy and reality blur in breathtaking, whimsical, and jubilant ways in Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma, using film theory as the launchpad for a dazzling sexual awakening allegory.
Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasmareleases in theaters on August 7.
