Jane Schoenbrun doesn't make normal movies. If you sat through the hypnotic neon dissociation of I Saw the TV Glow, you already know they aren't interested in generic jump scares. Their 2026 feature, Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma, takes a machete to the traditional slasher formula and builds something messy, brilliant, and entirely alive out of the pieces.
Critics are calling it an instant midnight classic, and honestly? They're right.
What Happens When a Zombie Franchise Gets a Soul
The plot centers on Kris, a young queer filmmaker played by Hannah Einbinder with frantic, nervous energy. Kris gets handed the keys to a rotting corporate IP: the Camp Miasma slasher franchise. Think Friday the 13th meets a hyper-fixated film student's fever dream. The villain is a masked spirit named Little Death, carrying a title that plays double duty as a cinematic body-count driver and a sly nod to French pop psychology.
Instead of just churning out a lazy studio reboot, Kris chases down Billy Presley—played with magnetic, weathered cool by Gillian Anderson. Billy was the final girl in the original 1980s slasher, and she now lives as a recluse right where the original production took place.
What starts as a professional pitch meeting quickly spirals into a psychosexual acid trip.
Why the Meta-Commentary Actually Works
Most meta-horror movies feel like homework. They wink at the camera, drop references to Wes Craven, and expect you to clap. Schoenbrun avoids that trap by making the obsession personal.
Kris isn't just analyzing the tropes of problematic 80s horror; she's wrestling with how early media consumption warps a kid's developing mind. The movie digs into queer identity, the awkward mechanics of finding yourself, and the strange comfort of watching people get butchered on VHS while sitting alone in a dark room.
Einbinder and Anderson have explosive chemistry. Their scenes together shift from sharp industry satire to raw emotional vulnerability. You get candy wrappers, junk food, late-night chats, and a heavy layer of queer joy that cuts through the blood splatter.
Breaking Down the Style
Visually, the film is a feast. Cinematographer Eric K. Yue leans heavily into grain-laden film aesthetics, rich reds, and intentionally fake-looking matte paintings that evoke old-school campgrounds. The score by Alex G and a jaw-dropping needle drop during a single-take massacre scene anchor the whole chaotic ride.
It’s funny, too. Sharp, dry humor peppers the dialogue, keeping the existential dread from getting too heavy.
Should You Watch It
If you want a safe, predictable popcorn flick with clean three-act plotting, skip this. Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma is messy, occasionally overstuffed with its own smart ideas, and wildly audacious.
Go see it in a crowded theater if you can. Grab some candy, settle into your seat, and let it ruin the way you look at summer camps forever.
