Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma Review: It’s a Scream

There’s a very important piece of representation in director Jane Schoenbrun’s latest feature, Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma. I’m not talking about the queer romance at the film’s heart, or the trans killer of the film’s fictional slasher series. No, the moment this reviewer personally felt most seen by the movie was when protagonist Kris (Hannah Einbinder, Hacks) immediately blurts out “split diopter” upon seeing a split diopter shot in a film. 

In a recent Q&A during their Camp Miasma press tour, Schoenbrun said that I Saw the TV Glow had been difficult to make both in a practical sense – the A24 picture was on a larger scale than they’d tackled before – and the emotional sense that it dug into early transition emotions quite personal to them. Wrung out, they asked their partner what they ought to make next. “Something really fun and really gay,” was the answer – which is exactly how I’d describe Camp Miasma. 

Also starring genre icon Gillian Anderson, Schoenbrun’s sexy slasher exploration bears little of the slow contemplative nature inherent to previous features TV Glow and We’re All Going to the World’s Fair. Here, the story’s as simple as any blood-and-guts programmer: A filmmaker fresh off an indie success gets tapped to remake a cult classic horror, and when she travels to find the reclusive star of the original picture, secrets get revealed. 

Yet a complexity lurks in this creepshow in more places than just that hole in the bottom of the lake – you know, where the movie’s come from. Where a straightforward flick might be easier to summarize – a coming-out thriller, a gender-bender drama – the fact that Camp Miasma is stuffed full of thickly painted but unexplained themes makes it fit perfectly within their previous work’s slow digestion timeline. Thoughts about the imagery, the casting (shout out to fellow trans filmmaker Louise Weard, who knocks her brief appearance as Queer Assistant out of the park), and the subtle meta-narrative scattered throughout by actual BTS footage of Schoenbrun and their crew setting up shots remain wedged between my teeth, ready to be chewed on later like gummy candy.

Einbinder plays the genre geek perfectly, at once boisterous when started on a rant about the art of the slasher genre and then shy, frightened, when asked to reveal any personal information. Talking dirty’s easier when the camera’s not directed at one’s self but instead on the helpless victims of Little Death, the Sleepaway Camp-esque killer of the Camp Miasma series being remade. On the other side is Anderson, who goops on the Blanche DuBois accent as former final girl Billy Presley while serving fried chicken with multiple dipping sauces (those with misophonia, you may want to take a bathroom break during the dinner scene). She’s all camp – and not just because the actress resides in the old summer camp used for Miasma’s original filming location. Frequent references are made to Sunset Boulevard, but Billy isn’t forcing Kris to engage in her fantasies. They’re sharing the blood-soaked spotlight.

I won’t pretend the film fixes Schoenbrun’s continued dedication to long silences and sometimes clunky dialogue, but to be honest, there’s much more here that pleases than frustrates. The sex? Good! The movie within a movie? Fun! Sarah Sherman in a squash outfit doing devil horns? Great! This one? It’s for the Fans, not just of horror but of moving pictures writ large – but especially ones with split diopter shots.

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This article appears in August 14 • 2026.