Cannes 2026 – Teenage Sex And Death At Camp Miasma ★★★

Released: 21 August 2026

Director: Jane Schoenbrun

Starring: Hannah Einbinder, Gillian Anderson

Right now there is a sense in the world that attitudes to gender and sex are better and smarter than they’ve ever been. Racism and sexism are allegedly no longer really things and any piece of art that reflects similarly “outdated” viewpoints is therefore irrelevant. Therefore movies which are not as sophisticated as the current moment would like to be are items of ridicule instead of art. This attitude is so pervasive that my local repertory theatre has had to add a message, after the one begging everyone to turn off their phones, imploring audiences to remember they are not above the art. For reviewers of a certain age it’s hard to remember that younger audiences heard jokes about the homoeroticism of Top Gun before they ever saw Top Gun.

That repertory theatre message could go further, because it would behoove us all to remember that we are not above unpleasant attitudes displayed. Bigoted attitudes towards race, sex and transgender people have not vanished as thoroughly as people of good heart would like. Forty years from now there is likely to be lots for new generations to mock in our art, even things we probably can’t currently see. But right now this sense of superiority means that a movie like Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma must not only make the movie, but simultaneously make the commentary on the movie. Fortunately this is bread and butter to writer-director Jane Schoenbrun, who was not only clearly raised by bad TV and worse movies, but also by the internet discussions that ripped them to shreds. This ability to both love the art and the discussions of it is still rare, but becoming more common, and Schoenbrun should be proud they are at the head of the pack. Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma might not stand the test of time, but it’s perfect for the current moment.

Kris (Hannah Einbinder) is a rising new queer director who has been tasked with rebooting the “Camp Miasma” series of slasher movies made in the distant and forgotten VHS-tape era. The opening sequence makes it clear the franchise of movies of lowering quality, TV sequels, arcade games, etc., were a juggernaut of the 80s and/or 90s, though anytime pre-cellphone is obviously the dark and distant past. The franchise was transphobic because the big bad, Little Death (Jack Haven), was a trans kid murdered at the summer camp. In all the movies, Little Death lives under the lake and occasionally rises to murder everyone with a spear while wearing an air vent over their head. (And you know, why not.) Kris’ speciality as a director is how movies handle depictions of monstrosity, queerness, or both, and fully understands her assignment. As part of her research she goes to visit to the ‘final girl’ of the first movie, Billy Presley (Gillian Anderson). Billy (also played as a young woman by Amanda Fix) never acted after her part in “Camp Miasma” and is so off-grid Kris is surprised to learn she lives at the summer camp in the Pacific Northwest where the movie was filmed. Suffice to say nothing of that visit unrolls quite how Kris had planned.

Through extended flashbacks we are treated to long scenes from the original “Camp Miasma,” which feature enough geysers of blood there’s a ‘blood technician” mentioned in the credits (take a bow, Kyle Trew). This means we both have our cake, as Kris helpfully points out how different scenes are problematic before we see them, and eat it while we watch loads of good-looking and scantily clad young people die under fountains of gore. Billy is both unpredictable and alarming, which the surprisingly sexually naïve Kris doesn’t know how to handle. Yet Billy absolutely knows how to handle Kris, and the ways in which Billy, wraps Kris around her little finger with little effort are weirder still. The issue here is the difference between enjoying something with your body and your mind. Like watching something on-screen instead of experiencing it for yourself. Like talking about sex, or eating junk food, or running through the woods, instead of just shutting up and doing it. There are problems with both outlooks on life, of course, and one is not always better than the other. It is also worth observing that slasher films were often meant as metaphors. It might not have been obvious under all the jiggling and screaming, but the original creators were well aware of subtext, and how things which are unsaid are often way more powerful than analysing something to death. That capacity no longer exists in the current moment.

That means the major issue with Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma is that it wishes us to take the film within a film literally. Only the most immature think that the actors are murdered for real, for example, and without spoilers that’s about as much as can be said. This means that the entire second half of the film, when the precise nature of the trouble Kris is in becomes explicit, is designed for people to feel above the material. This isn’t great! But it seems to be where we are. The pervasive junk food product placement is another odd mystery, though thankfully the use of Kevin McDonald, an unrecognisable Eva Victor and Patrick Fischler in small but very funny parts focuses the tone. Anderson has a wonderful time manipulating the reality around her, whilst Fix does great work as the wide-eyed ingénue losing her innocence, but it’s Einbinder who manages to both be of the body and of the mind.

It’s fine work she should be proud of, but it means things feel an awful lot flatter than they should. The movie tells us how we should feel about the scenes as they are happening, instead of just letting the fountains of blood speak for themselves. Well, the choice of song to play under the major action sequence is extraordinary, so that helps, too. But it’s a shame current audiences can’t have a wonderful time discussing movies without having been directly told how they should feel about them? It’s not Schoenbrun’s fault this is what the current moment requires, but if Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma really wanted to be about how gore sometimes turns us on, it should not have spouted more nonsense than blood.