So I watched this little movie called Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma, made by Jane Schoenbrun—the director of I Saw the TV Glow, a movie I loathed in pure tedium up until its compelling climax. In Camp Miasma, a filmmaker hired to reboot an old horror franchise meets up with a delightfully unhinged Gillian Anderson—the franchise’s OG Final Girl—as sexual sparks fly and a killer wearing a box on their head goes around dismembering people.
As much as I disliked I Saw the TV Glow, it’s clear that Schoenbrun is a capable writer and director, bringing to life unconventional stories in a way that are never as straightforward as you’d expect. I’m not really one to dwell on deep themes, especially in genre fare (the trans subtext for TV Glow went over my head until someone clued me in), and so I’ll take Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma at face value, too:
It has a weird serial killer who goes around stabbing and beheading people with a spear. That’s cool. The ridiculous blood effects didn’t do much for me, but who am I to complain about excessive blood?
Anderson is a treat, demonstrating her ability and willingness once again to be weird and adventurous and take a give-zero-shits approach as she acts the hell out of her character.
Hannah Eimbinder is also very good, especially as her character begins to spiral. She gets overshadowed by Anderson but does a commendable job in the lead role.
And for a while, Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma draws you in, painting an odd, twisted, macabre picture that is simultaneously captivating and strangely entrancing.
But in opposing fashion to I Saw the TV Glow, early success gives way to a third act that lets its audience slip through its fingers. Again, not one to get caught up in underlying messages or themes, especially when I just want to see a good, sexually charged slasher flick, Camp Miasma gets mired in Schoenbrun’s complex inner workings (overthinkings?). The movie ultimately crumbles, unable to fulfill the intriguing promises made earlier on. It’s not a disaster of a third act by any means, but it’s a disappointingly ho-hum finish compared to what came before.
Two-thirds of a good movie is better than one-third of a good movie, but Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma still isn’t the full experience. Maybe next time?
Review by Erik Samdahl. Erik is a marketing and technology executive by day, avid movie lover by night. He is a member of the Seattle Film Critics Society.
