‘Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma’ is a Gloriously Strange, Overstuffed Experience 

‘Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma’ is a Gloriously Strange, Overstuffed Experience 

By Alex McPherson

Director Jane Schoenbrun’s surrealist meta–slasher-satire-character-study “Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma” is ambitious and wholly unique, even if occasionally muddled by the weight of its dense ideas.

We follow Kris Williams (Hannah Einbinder), an academic queer filmmaker hired by a big studio to direct a reboot of the “Camp Miasma” slasher-film franchise. The series has, over the years, become reduced to bargain-bin sequels and cultural irrelevance, beautifully visualized in a nostalgic, acerbic opening title sequence.

The villain, “Little Death,” wears an HVAC air vent on their head and carries a spear, skewering any poor soul who dares to stay at the titular camp.

Kris has always felt a special attachment to the series (“special attachment” is an understatement, as we later find out). She wants to make the original’s “Final Girl” Billy Presley (Gillian Anderson) the main character of this new outing. Studio reps and her agent (played by Sarah Sherman) aren’t thrilled, and are more interested in Kris sanitizing and “de-cancelling” the franchise’s transphobic core for a modern audience. 

Hannah Einbinder and Gillian Anderson.

Billy retired from acting after the original film was released, but Kris sees an opportunity to capture that initial spark. It’s all the better, and weirder, that Billy now resides at a remote lakeside cabin in the Pacific Northwest at Camp Rivoli, the abandoned campground where the first “Miasma” was filmed.

Things are strange from the get-go, with Kris barely being able to find Camp Rivoli and wandering into a local cinema. A projector flickers to life and Kris watches the scene where young Billy (Amanda Fix) loses her virginity before being stabbed by Little Death — the sequence that stuck with Kris the most, even if she can’t quite identify why it has that effect on her. 

She then meets present-day Billy, who resembles Norma Desmond from “Sunset Boulevard” with a southern twang, seductive aura, and love of weed. The two quickly bond over a basket of KFC chicken tenders and grow closer from there.

They both deconstruct their attachment to the “Miasma” franchise and find new avenues to explore — namely, further unlocking desire, pleasure, and good ‘ole cinephilia amid the blood-drenched fantasy of Little Death.

“Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma” is, like Schoenbrun’s previous “I Saw the TV Glow,” not for all tastes, so obviously personal that it threatens to leave behind viewers who aren’t willing to go along with its swerving rhythms. 

Indeed, Schoenbrun’s latest project has a ton on its mind, from critiquing the slasher genre and the injustices of studio moviemaking to, most successfully, examining the powerful influence that films can have over our sense of self. There’s too much going on at any given point, but it’s a compulsively watchable mess that ultimately couldn’t be any other way.

Much of “Camp Miasma” rests on the shoulders of Einbinder and Anderson, and they’re both fully up to the task. Einbinder is the standout — able to show Kris’s evolution from high-strung, awkward, nerdy intellectual to someone gradually breaking through their shell to embrace their true desires. 

It’s a tough tightrope to walk, and it’s to Einbinder’s credit that Kris never becomes unlikable, just restrained by societal expectations and unsure of what they truly want in life; there’s also a deep connection to Billy and Little Death that defies traditional reason.

Einbinder is able to flex her comedic chops from time to time, but Schoenbrun’s screenplay treats her character arc seriously, maintaining a mostly successful throughline that continues Schoenbrun’s interest in the complex ways that media can shape us.

Einbinder and Anderson’s chemistry sizzles, and Anderson nails the balance between campiness and sincerity. Billy supports Kris from the jump, but she believes that Kris misunderstands the core of the “Miasma” series and its carnal appeals, which are more base but no less impactful.

Schoenbrun’s direction is, yet again, outstanding, making Camp Rivoli a setting out-of-time and existing in a liminal space between reality and fantasy, complete with dazzling matte paintings and an almost fairy-tale aesthetic. 

Much of the film is spent watching the film-within-the-film (with an ensemble including Eva Victor and Zach Cherry), similar to “TV Glow,” which Schoenbrun recreates with strong attention to period detail. They lean into the cheesiness inherent in its “Friday the 13th” and “Sleepaway Camp” influences while painting Little Death as exacting a sort of justified vengeance.

One ultraviolent sequence in particular, set to a melancholic country song, is cartoonishly gruesome and, perhaps counterintuitively, meditative.

There’s a certain point in Schoenbrun’s film, though, especially when the lines between fantasy and reality are blurred, that it becomes overwhelming and overstuffed. It loses some of its charm to the exhausting throes of self-indulgence. 

At these points, along with some perhaps overly broad commentary on the state of the movie industry, it seems like Schoenbrun throws everything at the wall to see what sticks (literally, in some cases). They sacrifice coherence for pure “feeling” — not inherently a problem, but alienating as new elements keep getting introduced that clumsily fit into the unruly tapestry Schoenbrun has been building.

So, while not as poignant as “TV Glow,” “Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma” is still entirely like nothing else, another example of experimental filmmaking that deserves support whether or not its wild swings fully connect.

“Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma” is a 2026 horror film directed by Jane Schoenbrun that stars Gillian Anderson, Hannah Einbinder, Eva Victor, Zach Cherry, Amanda Fix, and Sarah Sherman. It is rated R for bloody violence, gore, sexual content, graphic nudity, drug use and some language, and the run time is 1 hour, 52 minutes. It opened in local theatres Aug. 21. Alex’s Grade: B+

‘I Saw the TV Glow’ Is a Singular, Hypnotically Engaging Look at Identity and Loneliness

‘I Saw the TV Glow’ Is a Singular, Hypnotically Engaging Look at Identity and Loneliness

By Alex McPherson

Director Jane Schoenbrun’s “I Saw the TV Glow” is a dreamlike, thought-provoking, and emotionally gutting experience that’s at once personal and universal — an exploration of loneliness, art, escapism, and repression within a reality that’s its own kind of nightmare.

The year is 1996. We follow Owen (first played by Ian Foreman, then Justice Smith), a seventh-grader in a small, nondescript suburb that Shoenbrun frames like a dreary purgatory.

Owen lives a sheltered existence with his overprotective parents (played by Danielle Deadwyler and an exceptionally creepy Fred Durst). His father exerts a tight grip on the household, shunning Owen for his unconventional interests. Owen needs an escape, and he eventually finds it through a television set.

One evening, while wandering around his local high school (fittingly called “Void High”) waiting for his mother to cast a ballot for a local election, Owen finds ninth-grader Maddy (Brigette Lundy-Paine) reading an episode guide for a TV show called “The Pink Opaque.”

The supernatural serial is an homage to “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” and features two girls, Tara and Isabel, who communicate via the astral plane. They fight various “monsters of the week,” with the all-powerful Mr. Melancholy pulling the strings and watching over them as a garish face on the moon. 

Maddy — wry, severe, and enduring a troubled home life— quickly strikes up a friendship with Owen, and Owen sneaks over to Maddy’s house for a sleepover to watch the show: he’s hooked. Maddy and Owen find “The Pink Opaque” to be an escape from reality: they’re outcasts who connect to the characters’ isolation, confusion, and eventual empowerment. They’re both stuck in a limbo that’s suffocating their developing minds and bodies, only finding solace via their heroes on the other side of the screen.  

Flash forward two years, and Owen continues to use “The Pink Opaque” as a way to cope with his trauma and gradually develop his sense of self, with Maddy leaving VHS recordings of each episode in Void High’s darkroom for him to take home.

Owen and Maddy’s obsession with the show grows, tragedy strikes, and the lines between reality and fantasy blur to increasingly psychedelic effect, as “The Pink Opaque” bleeds off the screen into Owen’s lived experience. He grapples with his true identity amid the weight of suffocating societal pressures and the rapid passage of time.

Indeed, “I Saw the TV Glow” is a disturbing and bleakly existential watch. Schoenbrun, in their second feature film, has a distinctive cinematic voice – presenting a story that’s both easy to become invested in and difficult to fully parse, evoking familiar themes in ways that prove constantly surprising, unsettling, and, at times, bewildering.

 It’s a film that refuses to explain itself and leaves the door open to different interpretations, particularly during its head-spinning conclusion. This is an obviously personal story for Schoenbraun, one that’s rendered in an uncompromising, polarizing style that says as much through its mood-setting as through dialogue.

Their approach allows us to feel what the characters are feeling as they drift through their nebulous environment, even as they themselves are unsure how to process what’s going on.

“I Saw the TV Glow,” in its patient, Lynchian rhythms, establishes a palpable sense of dread from its opening moments, as Schoenbrun and cinematographer Eric K. Yue thrust us into a wasteland where a sense of dreariness practically leaks off the screen – a dark, neon-infused, almost alien world that Owen and Maddy inhabit as outsiders unsure of life’s meaning.

Schoenbrun twists seemingly inviting spaces into symbols of malaise and menace despite their seeming banality, further emphasizing Owen’s alienation and perceived sense of “otherness.” This world represents an abyss that’s willing to swallow Owen and Maddy whole if they don’t fight to break free from its spell. 

The Pink Opaque, too – depicted in authentic detail with title cards, music, acting, and lo-fi effects from the era –- is both alluring and sinister. Owen and Maddy form a connection to another world that’s dictated by the whims of showrunners and networks; a dangerous reliance on an external source to find comfort in a place that’s all too willing to take it away.

Suffice to say, “I Saw the TV Glow” is quite a depressing watch, interspersed with moments of dry humor and supernatural imagery that may or may not be taking place in traditional “reality.”

We’re seeing the world through Owen’s eyes – portrayed by Foreman and Smith with a haunted melancholy giving way to mounting existential panic – and his truth is yearning to be embraced; the question is, will he realize it before his depression and dysphoria consume him? 

As the film progresses down its increasingly head-spinning path, “I Saw the TV Glow” maintains a grim momentum, as Owen wages an internal battle against prejudiced norms and his seeming lack of agency.

The evocative, thematically resonant soundtrack enhances the proceedings, furthering the sense that Owen and Maddy are living in a dream, and years swiftly pass while his conflict stays the same, visualized in sterling makeup work.

The real horror of “I Saw the TV Glow” is a battle of identity, of being reliant on technology and consumable entertainment for discovering who we are, rather than forging one’s own path in a dark, depressing world.

It’s a relevant message, if not an especially uplifting one – easy to connect to regardless of background. Owen’s, and Schoenbrun’s, stories may be unique to them, but few films in recent memory are as unsettling, poignant, or conversation-starting as “I Saw the TV Glow.” Whether or not you can get on board with its story and style, it’s an experience that won’t be easily forgotten.

“I Saw the TV Glow” is a 2024 horror-drama directed by Jane Schoenbrun and starring Ian Foreman, Justice Smith, Bigette Lundy-Paine, Danielle Deadwyler and Fred Durst. It is rated PG-13 for violent content, some sexual material, thematic elements and teen smoking and runtime is 1 hour, 40 minutes. It opened in theaters May 17. Became available Video on Demand on June 14 and DVD on July 30. Alex’s Grade: A.