We all know what happens to horror franchises when they go way beyond their expiration date. They become a shell of themselves as they fall exponentially into mediocrity and irrelevance. All horror fans know this sad truth. Eventually, after the franchise has almost faded from the public eye, a studio rep decides it is time to revive it, and in their quest, they misunderstand everything about it — satisfying no one and losing money in the process. Horror filmmaker Jane Schoenbrun is aware of the pattern and uses it to deconstruct the slasher inside and out with her film Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma.
After years of slapdash sequels and waning fandom, the fictional Camp Miasma slasher franchise is handed over to an enthusiastic young director, named Kris (played by Hannah Einbinder, Hacks), for resurrection. But when she visits the series’ original star, Billy (Gillian Anderson, The X-Files), a now reclusive actress shrouded in mystery, the two women fall into a blood-soaked world of desire, fear, and delirium.
From the opening moments, it is clear that Schoenbrun completely understands the mechanics of a slasher franchise. They understand why people love these films: the excessive gore, the teenage sex, and the spectacle of watching idiots get brutally slaughtered one by one. They also understand the genre on a narrative level — from the unstoppable killer and the “final girl” archetype to the tactile appeal of practical gore effects.
But Schoenbrun also gets the many ways these films are constantly misunderstood, both by obsessive fandoms and studio executives. Devoted members of the fandom are determined to force deeper meaning onto films that were never trying to say anything profound, and executives endlessly recycle the formula without ever understanding why it worked to begin with. In that sense, Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma functions both as a deconstruction of the genre and a satire of the culture surrounding it.
On the other hand, Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma also presents as a romance and exploration of the female orgasm filtered through genre language. Whether that exploration fully works is up in the air, but it is undeniably an interesting lens to approach the subject. The relationship between Kris and Billy is about as lesbian-coded as you can possibly get, with the two going from strangers to inseparable almost immediately through their shared obsession with the Miasma franchise and the pursuit of sexual intimacy.
The film constantly cuts between the exaggerated campiness of the Miasma films, complete with absurdly bloody kills carried out by Little Death, and quieter moments of intimacy between Kris and Billy. There are long stretches where we simply watch Little Death carve through camp counsellor bodies in elaborate, practical gore set pieces, followed by scenes of the two lying naked together in fire-lit cabins discussing sex and desire with an almost awkward sincerity. All of it wrapped in cold, pastel winter hues that make the entire film feel both strangely dreamy and emotionally distant.
Overall, Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma is the kind of film that I am still trying to process. Does it all work? Not really. But I was fascinated by it regardless. Anchored by the wide-eyed awkwardness of Hannah Einbinder and the smoky southern drawl of Gillian Anderson, the film is simply enthrallingly strange. Even in its messier moments, there is something compelling about watching it unfold. More than anything, it shows that Schoenbrun continues to prove they are willing to approach horror from angles that most filmmakers would never even consider. Whether the film succeeds is actually beside the point. The fact that this film exists at all is what makes it so interesting.
Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma was screened in the Un Certain Regard section at the 2026 Cannes Film Festival, and is set to hit theatres on August 7.
