I went into Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma expecting nothing. The title was the hook, and Gillian Anderson, forever Dana Scully, was the reason I pressed play. I came out having enjoyed it a lot more than I thought I would.
It’s not a masterpiece. If you wanted to be mean, you could flatten the whole thing into a queer slasher acid trip, and the plot gives you the material for it. Kris, a young queer director, is handed the reboot of a long-dead slasher franchise called Camp Miasma and gets fixated on tracking down Billy Presley (Anderson), the final girl of the original film, now a recluse living on the abandoned camp grounds where it was shot. Hannah Einbinder plays Kris. Things get bloody, sexual and increasingly unmoored from there.
Under the delirium there’s a real film about cinephilia, about what it means to love a genre that was never really made for you and to remix it anyway. The nods to classic horror are everywhere. Friday the 13th, Sleepaway Camp and Nightmare on Elm Street all come to mind, and the franchise on screen feels like a made-up cousin of all three. The killer is called Little Death, which is French slang for orgasm, and reportedly has an air conditioning unit for a head. Nobody is subtle about the sex and death thing, the title included.It comes from Jane Schoenbrun, who made We’re All Going to the World’s Fair and I Saw the TV Glow. This is their third feature. It premiered at Cannes this year and won the Queer Palm, it’s backed by MUBI and Plan B (Brad Pitt’s company), and it runs 112 minutes. Eric Yue’s cinematography has a Lynch flavour, and Patrick Fischler, a Mulholland Drive alumnus, turns up in the cast, which feels deliberate.
The part I loved most is probably still the opening. It’s a run of film gadgets and franchise paraphernalia that shows how much love and craft went into building this fake series, and also how thoroughly it has been turned into merchandise. On paper that’s a capitalist nightmare. But it gets something warmer once you see it through Kris, who genuinely loves these films, so the merch reads as devotion more than marketing. The painted backgrounds do something similar. They make the matte painting a visible part of the film, and part of the film within the film, so everything looks a bit weird and also exactly right.
Spoilers from here.
The meta part is where the film stopped being a parody and started being something stranger. It begins as a film about making a film: Kris is the director hired to make the sequel, and the whole setup is the process of fan, director and franchise talking to each other. Then it folds in on itself. Billy and Kris sit down to watch the original Camp Miasma together, and the rules of the franchise start to leak into the lives of the people watching it. The reveal is that Little Death lives under the lake and sees the world through the Camp Miasma films, so Kris, Billy and everyone around them are characters in one of the killer’s pictures. Late on, a VHS tape of a new film appears in the lair, and its title is the title of the one you’re watching. You’ve been watching the movie that Little Death is watching.
The ending closes the loop. Kris walks out with the blood still on her and says the lines a final girl said in an earlier film in the series, so even the escape is a line from a script. It’s the old slasher trick of the killer not really being dead, turned inside out: the franchise can’t die because someone keeps imagining it, and that someone is also the audience.
I’m glad I gave it a go for a name and a face I recognised. The meta film vibe is not new, but what got me is where it puts you. It doesn’t hold the franchise at arm’s length and wink at it. It sits you next to Kris, someone who is completely infatuated with a film, and lets you feel that from the inside. As someone who loves cinema, and as someone who makes films myself, that’s a familiar kind of obsession: the one where a film stops being something you watch and becomes something you want to live in, and then something you want to make. The film understands that the love is the point, and that it can be sincere and a little ridiculous at once. I went in for the title and Scully. I left wanting to rewatch a franchise that doesn’t exist.


































