Tag Archives: 2026

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FANTASIA 2026: APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: TEENAGE SEX AND DEATH AT CAMP MIASMA (2026)

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DIRECTED BY:

FEATURING: Hannah Einbinder, Gillian Anderson

PLOT: An up-and-coming filmmaker tasked with rebooting a horror franchise arranges a meeting with the reclusive star of the original film.

Still from Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma (2026)

WHY IT MIGHT JOIN THE APOCRYPHA: My weirdar blipped plenty during the screening, but it’s difficult to get a bead on specifics. There’s a great scene sexualizing the act of eating fried chicken with dipping sauce, so I’ll drop that here for now as a placeholder.

COMMENTS: From the beginning, Kris showcases her love of candy. For a planned overnight trip to middle of nowhere, she stocks up on a grocery bag full of the stuff. As much as she loves her candy, she loves Little Death more. No, not the French euphemism for an orgasm (we’ll get to that later), but the air-vent-headed, double-tipped harpoon-toting murderer from the Camp Miasma franchise that Kris grew up adoring and has been assigned to reboot. Re-watching a lesser entry in the series during a stopover before her inspirational awakening (in manner both creative, and orgasmic), we watch her watching whilst she gorges on an impressive amount of sweet cinema snacks.

Watching. That’s what Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma is about, I reckon, while delivering the dozens of trope-nods (mainly, sex -> murder, or at least death, if only a little one) necessary for a slasher dissection. The hotel movie-‘n’-candy orgy launches the long weekend with the enigmatic and aged Billy (Gillian Anderson, in a lovely Southern Gothic turn), star of the franchise’s opening installation. Kris grew up watching (young) Billy’s strange look of detachment during the film’s sex scene. We now watch Billy as she playfully parries with this talented but staggeringly insecure filmmaker before her. Kris watches Billy sketch violently during a 35mm screening of the old movie in her home. And watching both of them, it seems, is the mysterious Little Death.

(Apologies for this parenthetical paragraph—though I’m sure Kris would understand, as she’s constantly apologizing for parentheticalizing—but this review has so far turned out to be more about candy than I was anticipating. Several other elements worth noting briefly: old film merging with this new film as per the designs of Little Death in their lair beneath the lake; an absurd Zoom call with the studio that collapses into performance art; and the bloodiest sex scene I have yet seen.)

With nearly two-hours to unpack, Teenage Sex… has a great deal to chew over. On the other hand, Schoenbrun somehow turns the corner from meta-movie back into movie-movie: their film is about what we see. Schoenbrun’s tremendous love of movies channels the past, with its slasher classics; the present, with its journey of self-discovery and acceptance; and a hint at the future, through the coda in the nearby convenience store. Kris and Billy, still dolled up in the scant attire and buckets of blood from their climactic encounter, meander the aisles, Kris explaining which gummies are the best. Kris would know: of her various quests in life, few have been more exhaustive or satisfying than this one. Anchored now by more than candy, she is better equipped to chase down her greatest love: making movies.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…a wonderfully warped and weird queer spin on Friday the 13th that proves horror has, and always will be, for the shes, gays, and theys.”–Kat Hughes, The Hollywood News (festival screening)

I think this movie is weirder than average
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FANTASIA 2026: APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: HER PRIVATE HELL (2026)

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DIRECTED BY: Nicolas Winding Refn

FEATURING: Sophie Thatcher, , , Charles Melton, Dougray Scott, Diego Calva

PLOT: It’s Elle’s birthday, and her father is heading out of town, leaving her in the company of her BFF-turned-step-mother and a beautiful new “sister,” as a sinister fog heralds the arrival of The Leather Man.

Still from Her Private Hell (2026)

WHY IT MIGHT JOIN THE APOCRYPHA: Refn doesn’t waste our time with nonsense like clarity. Space encounters with Candy Flux ray-guns, mega-crystal caverns, rent rib cages, and daddy issues laid on as thick as the ambient mist is all we need to get by in this surreal fairytale.

COMMENTS: It’s kind of a chamber drama, with a cast of six. Plus two. Plus some flashback goons. And it all takes place in the penthouse suite of a luxury hotel. Except, of course, those bits on a movie set. And that violent string in post-WWII occupied Japan. And, now that I think of it, that club consisting primarily of sharp shadows, strobing neon, and dozens and dozens of Romanesque statues. Oh, and that nebulous underworld with the jutting rods of serrated crystal, too. And Refn’s exploration of a lachrymose psyche would have been incomplete without the pair of seamstress-cum-manitous manipulating events, one of them maneuvering like an interpretive dancer.

Suffice to say, the story is one of remorse, grief, sibling rivalry, and just about everyone being very attractive and dressed in the highest of bleak-chic.

This last bit is true, at least for the trio-plus-two of the female protagonists. The fellows look more along the lines of middle-aged Harry Dean Stanton (Elle’s father, Johnny Thunders), young Harry Dean Stanton (Nico, adversary of said father), and violently clean-cut angel of vengeance in a US army uniform (Private “K,” also a father, who’s lost his daughter to a mythical murderer who manifests mainly with diamond-studded gloves and seems unbound by temporal limitations). Regardless, these half-dozen orphic oddities keep events moving forward, from the lobby to the suite to the sinister backrooms of 1940s Japan to the candy crystal caves.

This disjointed recollection of the characters and events is, upon consideration, probably more true to a narrative through line than I credit. Her Private Hell is very much about Elle: she is the first character we see, aside from the truly bizarre cityscape with towers, lights, a massive Ozymandiosian bust, and fog, fog, fog, which is a character in its own right. The hotel (named, I believe, “Fog Tower” or something like that) is a grim-glittery wonderment, as if gave ‘s Megalopolis a good once over. The props for the movie within the movie look like the best low budget doo-dads a groovy ’60s space epic could ask for. And while Elle’s birthday cake looks delicious, I’m not sure how we’re supposed to feel about her former BFF hand-feeding it to the anniversary girl before breaking into dog-speak.

At an early point in the movie, a choice presents itself: ponder deeply about symbolism and implications for clinical understanding of this grisly vision, or turn your brain off and allow scattered mental impulses to soar and bounce amongst the cavalcade of sickly grandeur summoned by this witch’s brew. I opted for the latter, and I believe Refn would approve. As he explained during his introduction, the point of a film is to enjoy it, with all the sex, violence, sickness, and humor that may have been tossed in the cauldron.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…a bizarre new fantasia moodscape, a midnight movie of fear and dreamy disquiet…resists interpretation, like so many of Refn’s recent films, but executes a slow dervish swirl of hypnotic strangeness.”–Peter Bradshaw, The Guardian (Cannes screening)

I think this movie is weirder than average
I think this movie is better than average

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CAPSULE: CITY WIDE FEVER (2026)

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DIRECTED BY: Josh Heaps

FEATURING: Diletta Giuglielmi, Nancy Kimball, Hugo Alexander-Rose, Angelica Kim

PLOT: A film student discovers evidence of a forgotten Italian director and, in the course of making a documentary about him, gradually loses touch with reality.

Still from City Wide Fever (2026)

 

COMMENTS: Initial reports on City Wide Fever described it variously as a , a giallo tribute, and definitely not a giallo nor a tribute. The film’s strange tone must account for this confusion. IMDB classifies it as a horror comedy; though if there’s humor here, I suspect I’m not interpreting it as the director intended. The script attempts to walk the line between genuinely engaging with giallo tropes and simultaneously condemning them for offending contemporary sensibilities. Whether City Wide Fever is a send-up of the giallo resurgence or an honest homage (or both), it liberally takes from the genre its trademark ambiguity, stylization, and mood.

While wandering around New York City, Sam happens upon a USB drive in a gutter. She takes it home and finds a trove of files relating to Saturnino Barresi, who just happens to have directed a slew of giallo films, one of her favorite genres. Barresi apparently went missing, or stopped making films, under mysterious circumstances in the 1970s. His final film, City Wide Fever, was never completed. Though she’s never heard of him before, nor actually seen any of his movies, Sam decides to track him down and make a documentary about her search (a very film student thing to do, as the movie self-reflexively acknowledges).

Her quest takes her to the home of a creepy film professor, a creepy Times Square porn shop (where appears in a brief cameo), and a creepy Gowanus warehouse filled with mannequins (what else?), until she reaches the creepy house of a former giallo actress, before it all culminates in—her mother’s uptown apartment (?). Along the way, a masked knife-wielding killer (who else?) shows up to off Sam’s contacts and friends. Or is she just having nightmares, having succumbed to “the fever”?

The killer wears a variety of masks, many of them knit ski masks in bright colors, similar to Pussy Riot, also recalling masked serial killers from classic horror films. Red and blue lighting appears whenever Sam’s delusions and reality merge or fracture. Despite this, City Wide Fever never gets really weird. Even though Sam may be hallucinating some of the events depicted, they never stray too far from typical giallo violence, and only a few frames are outright surreal.

Perhaps it’s weirdest feature is the portrayal of Sam by two different actors, for reasons that remain unclear; this conceit could use the aid of more character development. All we know about Sam is her obsession with giallo. So, is she an American who imagines herself as Italian due to her fixation? Is she an Italian who imagines herself in the role of the amateur investigator, who is often a foreigner in Italian films? Or is this simply emblematic of the lack of narrative logic that’s repeatedly emphasized as a defining characteristic of these films (or maybe a nod to )?

Obviously limited by a low budget, the scenes shot with a cell phone actually look higher quality than the rest, which is shot on video. The documentary aspect of the narrative makes the visuals somewhat excusable. It looks exactly like the type of student film it purports to be.

Similar films from earlier in the century, like The Strange Color of Your Body’s Tears and Berberian Sound Studio, interrogated giallo’s complexities through sophisticated dissections of imagery and sound. For those interested in a very 2020s take on the giallo, City Wide Fever may do the trick, though it really can’t compare to those earlier films. As other reviewers have noted, ‘s producer credit seems to be more an endorsement of Heaps’ directorial potential than anything else. Here’s hoping Heaps gets thrown more money for his next picture, and keeps heading off the beaten path.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…a real oddity. On the surface, it’s a small DIY thriller that looks shot on the cheap, which already narrows down its appeal. But if you get on its wavelength over the course of its very brief 70 minutes (sans credits), you might even start to feel a small twinge of nostalgia. . . this movie tries to go for a surreal, artsy vibe that makes the protagonist question her own reality, though the attempt is hampered by a limited budget. “–Ernesto Zelaya Miñano, Screen Anarchy (contemporaneous)

I think this movie is weirder than average
I think this movie is better than average

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CAPSULE: IRON LUNG (2026)

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DIRECTED BY: Mark Fischbach

FEATURING: Mark Fischbach

PLOT: In the far future, when humanity is dying off, a convict is sent to the bottom of an ocean of blood on a distant moon in search of… something or other.

Still from iron lung (2026)

COMMENTS: If you’ve heard the rags-to-riches DIY success story of the fan video game adaptation Iron Lung, which played in 4,160 theaters worldwide in early 2026 based purely on a grassroots campaign where fans of YouTuber-turned-feature-film-director markiplier (Mark Fischback) begged cinemas to show it on the big screen, and are wondering whether the non-initiate will enjoy this, my answer is a firm “no.” While the film is a phenomenal success story on its own terms, it was made for a narrow niche audience, and unless you’ve played the video game or count yourself among markiplier’s 38 million YouTube channel subscribers, you ain’t it.

At least 90% of Iron Lung takes place inside a cramped submarine the size of a living room, crowded with metal apparatus and sensors. Convict pilot Simon (Fischback) is alone for almost the entire film, with occasional conversations over intercoms with bad connections to break his solitude. The craft is rickety, has no portals to see the outside world (which would just be a wall of opaque red anyway), has frequent blood leaks, and lunches a lot. You get to know every sharp corner and blinking light in the sub in the film’s 2-hour runtime; you almost feel like you could pilot this tub yourself. The detailed set conveys the feeling of a metal prison, and the sound design is superlative: drips, scrapes, static, echoes, thumps, all sorts of dreadful alarming noises to remind you that you are in a tin can surrounded by certain death. Based on the editing in the climax, I think that Fischback could direct a thrilling action scene—assuming you knew who, what, and where the antagonist was and what the hell was going on.

But as impressive as the film’s technicals may be, the script is simultaneously boring and confusing. I mentioned that the film was 2 hours long, and it makes sure you feel every minute. Reports suggest the game itself can be finished in under and hour—an hour and a half if you dwaddle—so there is a lot of padding added here to convey the combination of tedium and dread the protagonist would experience. Watching the movie, you get the sense that the game is nothing but a long test of your ability to press buttons, flip switches, and turn knobs, because this mostly what Fischback does on screen. There is a part where he accidentally irradiates some of his handlers, which has no payoff. There is a tormented personal backstory delivered in monologue, meant to humanize the an anonymous explorer. But mainly, it’s Fischback flipping switches, turning knobs, and bemoaning his fate.

The mystery of this abandoned moon is where the film’s claim to weirdness comes from. The premise itself is absurd: supposedly all the stars and planets have suddenly disappeared except for a single moon with an ocean of blood. Although the technology here comes from hard science fiction, the scenario is entirely mystical. The ocean floor contains mysterious artifacts (which I won’t spoil) and something that might be an entity—or, it could all be an oxygen-deprivation hallucination. There is some body horror, some monstrous visions, a blood-soaked cosmic climax, and no clear resolution. The lack of explanations would not be a problem if we cared about the protagonist in more than a theoretical sense, but it’s hard to become engaged with the convict’s plight. We root for humanity to survive more out of a sense of general obligation to the species than because the movie has caused us to care about this particular band of plucky survivors. So, in short: play the game first. If you want more, see the movie. Don’t reverse the process.

Iron Lung is currently available for rental or purchase solely on YouTube.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“It’s slow, weird, and draining in a way that feels oddly beautiful.”–Roberto Tyler Ortiz, Geek Vibes Nation (contemporaneous)

(This movie was nominated for review by “Anonymous,” who suggested it “[h]as enough questions about what f***ed up stuff we’re seeing is real or not, and ends with one of the goriest climaxes in all of film with a battle with a sentient ocean of radioactive human blood..” Suggest a weird movie of your own here.)