Notable Cast: Hannah Einbinder, Gillian Anderson, Amanda
Fix, Arthur Conti, Eva Victor, Zach Cherry, Sharah Sherman, Patrick Fishler,
Dylan Baker, Jasmin Savoy Brown, Quintessa Swindell, Kevin McDonald, Jack Haven
Considering that there have been dozens of films that have
deconstructed and analyzed the slasher genre, when director/writer Jane
Schoenbrun decided to give their take on crafting a (somewhat) meta slasher, it
was easy to jump on board. Jane has already crafted one hell of a career in
just two prior feature-length films, the incredibly poignant We’re All Going
to the World’s Fair and A24’s I Saw the TV Glow, and with their
latest entry, the incredibly titled Teenage Sex and Death At Camp Miasma,
certainly cements them as one of the brightest auteurs working in cinema.
Teenage Sex and Death At Camp Miasma, which I will
shorten for the sake of my arthritis to Camp Miasma (fitting considering
how the movie treats its fictional franchise), continues some of the themes
that Schoenbrun has baked into their material, but it manages to take the
surrealistic stylings and expand them immensely. The result is a dynamic
combination that wears its genre influences on its sleeve but still feels fresh
and exciting in its approach to the material. It’s a film that has pure
adoration for slashers and those who grew up with them, but it's also not
afraid to address its flaws with thoughtful analysis and a delightful tongue
firmly planted in cheek.
It’s not a stretch to imagine that Camp Miasma, at
least to some degree, feels like Schoenbrun is continuing to interrogate their
own feelings about how media consumption can be both problematic and
enlightening. If We’re All Going to the World’s Fair is meant to
interrogate how the internet is a double-edged sword for connection and I
Saw the TV Glow intends to navigate the concepts around television fandom
and identity, then this latest film wants to - as the title very blatantly
indicates - contemplate how audiences use horror cinema as catharsis for
feelings around sexuality and mortality.
What better genre to discuss sex and death than a slasher,
right?
For this film, Schoenbrun crafts a fictional horror film
series called Camp Miasma. The history of this franchise is essentially
told in a fantastic opening montage that goes through the history of the
various entries - all inspired by real slasher films, especially Friday the
13th (although references to Sleepaway Camp and an incredible joke
about The Burning do occur), and it becomes apparent that Schoenbrun is
incredibly well versed in not only slasher tropes, but the lore and history of
the genre too. Shit, just for this montage in the opening, the audience -
if they are slasher savvy - know this is going to be expert-level
dissection.
To accomplish this task, Schoenbrun creates a meta-lite
concept for its narrative. In it, a young and up-and-coming filmmaker, Kris,
from the indie scene has been tasked with rebooting the Camp Miasma
franchise. Played by Hannah Einbinder, in an incredibly threaded performance
that often leans into the comedic beats without ever losing sight of the
character’s emotional beats, serves as a type of stand-in for Schoenbrun in a
partially meta take.
It makes one wonder whether Schoenbrun was actually flagged to helm a classic
slasher franchise at some point in their career, though it never came to
fruition…But I digress.
Kris is learning how the industry works, as seen in one of
the funniest Zoom calls ever put to film, where Kris explains the origin story
they are working on and has traveled to the Pacific Northwest to meet the
original final girl from the first Miasma. This original final girl,
Billy, is played expertly by Gillian Anderson in a fearless role, and they,
together at the original filming location of the first Miasma film, find
that perhaps they’ve been brought together for more than just a business
meeting.
While Camp Miasma certainly serves as a comedy first and foremost, in which its two characters draw on their distinct experiences with Miasma as young women to prod and poke at the horror film industry, both old and new, the greatest aspect of the film is that it’s a (not so) secret romance flick. Einbinder and Anderson’s chemistry is sparkling and palpable from the first moments they meet on screen. It works spectacularly for what the film needs. When the narrative needs Hannah to overshare about her sex life in an open relationship with her poly partner (and their other poly partner named Thor) to Billy, it doesn’t feel forced because the connection is immediately felt on screen. Does the film need to have the most erotic uses of KFC dipping sauces to indicate their sexual chemistry? No, not really, but I’ll give Schoenbrun full credit for having the audacity to throw that in there anyway. Cause what the hell, why not? Like most slashers, Camp Miasma certainly has an eroticism to it that feels at home in its narrative and choices.
In crafting a romantic narrative for both Kris and Billy,
the film (not so) secretly becomes a coming-of-age story for its two
characters. Well, perhaps ‘coming of age’ is not the right term, as that would
designate a sort of loss of innocence to become adults, and that’s not the case
in this film. Maybe the term ‘coming to enlightenment’ is better suited for
what Schoenbrun is actively crafting here. Each woman, certainly at different
times in her life, finds that she has not yet found what she has necessarily
been seeking. Being brought together by this Miasma reboot, the two find
a pathway to further enlightenment. Not dissimilar to a coming-of-age tale, and
yet not dissimilar to women finding out that they are the final girls in their
own lives, it’s only once they find empowerment, through each other, that they
can rise up to the challenges in front of them.
Through all of this, Schoenbrun still manages to slather it
all in a type of surrealism that allows slasher elements to penetrate its
meta-comedic commentary on the horror film industry. Clips of the Miasma
film pop up throughout, featuring a rather hilarious (and often strangely
provocative in its design) slasher killer with a vent for a head named Little
Death, but the film starts to weave the character and the slasher into real
life. The gratuitous gore, with blood sprays that would make Quentin Tarantino
feel at home, is prevalent; the kills are wildly creative, and it culminates in
a full-on killing spree in the third act that might be one of the most
impressively shot series of stunts and camerawork that you’re apt to see in a
horror flick. It’s all done in a manner that bleeds an artifice and framing
style that seems to invoke the question, “What if Wes Anderson wanted to make
the most intensely violent slasher in existence?” and I’m all in on that.
Particularly how the leading ladies and the various other people they interact
with all start to merge with the surrealistic slasher playing out, delivering
one of the most delirious and heartfelt endings one could imagine.
In an age where satire has essentially been found dead at
the bottom of a lake and the meta-commentary on horror, warts and all, has been
squeezed for every last drop of blood it can muster, Schoenbrun has once again
managed to deliver a thought-provoking deconstruction of media consumption and
genre filmmaking. Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma may not feature
the subtle realism-to-surrealism bleed of their first film, nor the incredible
character identity dissections of their second film, but it manages to be both
and, refreshingly, more upfront and punchy in its writing and visual prowess. It’s
delightfully absurd at times, leaning hard into its comedic teeth when it wants
to bite, and still managing to feel like a heartfelt and earnest analysis of
two characters coming to terms with what they want out of life - all wrapped up
in a slasher movie with elements of David Cronenberg, Wes Anderson, and Sam
Raimi.
To say the least, it’s impressive that Schoenbrun capably
blended a love for cinema, a love for life, a love for gore, a love for
absurdity, a love for flaws, and a love for wild-ass camera tricks all into one
movie…
…still managed to never lose sight of a love for love.
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