Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma

Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma
Starring Hannah Einbinder, Gillian Anderson, Jack Haven, Amanda Fix
Directed by Jane Schoenbrun

My favorite franchise ever is "Friday the 13th" even though I know most of the films aren't that good, it doesn't take away from my enjoyment of them. Throughout the years it became more a laughingstock rather than respected, but still it knew what it was and delivered in making Jason Voorhees an international icon. So anything akin to the series is something I'd be immediately drawn to, and "Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma" is one such movie - a movie within a movie that serves equally a love letter to horror as well as embracing your whole self in every aspect, director Jane Schoenbrun's third film serves as a perfect ending to their personal life trilogy, a movie made almost for themself rather than a general audience, but one that general audiences can truly appreciate for its aesthetic, story, performances, and technical prowess. 

Kris Williams (Hannah Einbinder) is a young filmmaker looking to direct a reboot of the long-dead "Camp Miasma" franchise, a series she's loved since she was a young girl.  Looking to bring it back to its roots, she seeks out Billy Presley (Gillian Anderson), who was the series' first final girl to convince her to return for the reboot. She finds the recluse living alone at the camp where "Miasma" was filmed, and finds that she connects the movie's villain - Little Death (Jack Haven) - as real, and living at the bottom of the lake. The two connect on a deep level, and Kris begins opening herself up more than she ever did to anyone else, despite her own fears of intimacy, while under the water Little Death stirs, just waiting for the perfect opportunity to emerge. 

There is a lot to unpack with "Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma" and that's a huge compliment to the director and writer, Jane Schoenbrun. They endured a lot in their life with their journey of transformation, and put that story on the big screen in three impeccable outings: first "We're All Going to the World's Fair" looks at the isolation and search for identity people go through, then "I Saw the TV Glow" focused on repressed identity, existential dread and the struggle to live an authentic life, and now with "Teenage Sex" shines its light on embracing your identity, fully loving yourself and allowing yourself to be loved. It's a perfect trifecta for anyone struggling with their identity in a world that demands conformity, done expertly with blending the real with the fantastical, while also paying homage to everything Schoenbrun loved as a child.

One of those loves is clearly horror movies, and this movie I felt the most relatable to. Starting at a young age (obviously younger than I should) I was enthralled with horror movies, which shaped my love for movies in general as the years went on. "Teenage Sex" centers on this with Kris, an obvious stand-in for Schoenbrun herself, played by "Hacks" star Hannah Einbinder in a star-m

g movie role. She is a young, up-and-coming director who makes movies not everyone appreciates (her latest Sundance film was a movie that's "Psycho" through the lens of the shower curtain), but movies she loves because of her love for horror itself. Her chance comes at rebooting "Camp Miasma" to her undying joy, as this was the first movie she saw as a child that shaped her love for movies. She tracks down the original final girl - with whom she has a deep emotional connection to - and eventually finds her living in solitude much like Norma Desmond in "Sunset Boulevard," which this movie references. 

That actress is Billy Presley, played by a disguised Gillian Anderson in her best performance of her career. She is unrecognizable in her performance, wholly enveloping the character in such a way that she gives Billy a sense of urgency and self-empowerment, always one step ahead of everyone else (and with an insane love of KFC and candy). She speaks with a sweet southern drawl in a slow cadence that feels like hushed whispers, and when she speaks about the Little Death in the movies you see both the sorrow and joy in her eyes that she experienced during the filming of the first movie. There's so many layers to unpack with her as a character let alone the movie as a whole it'll take a few viewings to fully encompass her multi-layered character.

It's no surprise what Little Death represents, as the name itself is synonymous with a particular act two people (or sometimes one) involve themselves in to achieve ultimate satisfaction, but also is a death in some respects as well. The movie-within-the-movie is shown as a classic "Friday the 13th" feel (in fact, the whole opening sequence gives honor to the franchise, making "Miasma" that world's "Friday the 13th" with numerous VHS cases, articles, ads, toys, and video games that are directly linked to the real franchise) with its over-the-top kills, gore, and teenagers staying at a summer camp, but it's also incredibly dark in its tone. In that movie, Little Death used to be a child (much like Jason) who was bullied because they were one day a girl, and the next a boy, not-so-subtly hinting at the violence and misunderstanding trans people feel today. The young Billy (played here with youthful innocence by Amanda Fix) is your typical virgin, but one night she looses her virginity and comes into contact with Little Death, and that scene in particular is what drew Kris to the movie as a young child - she wanted to understand what Billy saw in her eyes.

On top of the perfect performances and deep themes, the movie is washed in lavish set designs akin to a Wes Anderson movie with its matte backdrops, over-the-top colors and vivid imagery, making you feel like you're living in a dream all your own, a dazzling viewscape of Technicolor dreams. It's through this lens we find Kris coming to terms with who she is, and allowing herself to really open up to someone for the first time, while living out her own dream of bringing her childhood favorite movie back to the big screen - equal parts love letter to horror and self-actualization, told only the way Jane Schoenbrun could.

The Score: A+