The Plague presents as its premise something akin to Lord of the Flies meets the ridiculous defense of “boys will be boys.” The film is unpleasant, cruel, and offers no catharsis or reprieve for the viewer during its 95-minute runtime. In some aspects, that intentional coarseness works as intended, using the viewer’s discomfort to ultimately elevate the experience. In others, The Plague is downright grating.
In short, Charlie Polinger’s debut feature is a film about learning to dance on your own. At the same time, that brief summation does a disservice to the deep cruelty the story requires to get there. A group of neurotypical water polo teammates decide that fellow camper Eli (Kenny Rasmussen) has the plague because of an ongoing skin issue with cystic acne and a persistent rash. Eli, who is clearly on the spectrum, may not like the way he’s treated by the rest of the team, but repeatedly shows that he’s A-OK with playing by himself if the pre-pubescent little monsters he’s surrounded by don’t want to participate. This rattles Ben (Everett Blunck), who desperately seeks the approval of the rest of the team, to his core.
Cinematographer Steven Breckon’s work buys the film a lot of goodwill. He and Polinger’s creative partnership has resulted in a dang pretty movie. Framing plays a major role in developing the film’s disconcerting ambiance, but the most visually appealing shots all play with water in one way or another. These range from the water polo and synchronized swimming scenes heavily featured in The Plague to dreamy underwater segments that bend the perception of which way is up or down. That warped view acts as a quiet metaphor that plays into The Plague’s overall themes as we follow Ben during what must be the worst year of his young life.
While it plays more in the thriller space than it does straight horror, The Plague is well seasoned with well-timed moments of gore and the gore-adjacent. Polinger clearly understands that a closeup featuring the tugging of a bloody hangnail can be as jarring as the most gruesome bodily harm. There’s not an abundance of these moments — and you’re not going to see anything bad happen to anyone that it should be happening to — but the sprinkling of them is thoughtful and well-timed.
Johan Lenox’s score also plays a critical role in the film, but those with misophonia will likely share in the frustration that it does its job a little too well. The function here is for each sound to be as harsh as the difficult experiences our protagonists are experiencing, to which the score accomplishes with great success. The problem is that rather than elevating the (awful) experience, it will rip you right out if you’re sensitive to the kind of noises and repetition it employs.
The Plague doesn’t work without Blunck and Rasmussen’s wide-eyed adolescence, but Joel Edgerton — who also produced the film — delivers a grounding performance as the boys’ coach. His voice of reason is an awkward one at times, but it’s nice to have a single character able to take Kayo Martin’s Jake — the film’s primary instigator — to task. Martin, to his credit as a performer, is an absolute monster of a child, and the Coach’s voice is a critical offset to much of the team’s vocal misogyny and broad savagery.
While the build up is technically sound and bolstered by strong performances, The Plague’s ending falls apart at the seams. Polinger’s intended message is evident, but the road to it sacrifices its impact. Still, the film’s abrupt ending plays into the overall coarseness of the story, leaving the tone consistent throughout. If you’re on board with that tone, you’re likely going to find The Plague to be pretty remarkable.
