The opening shot of Charlie Polinger’s alarmingly taut coming-of-age thriller, The Plague, is placid and calm. The camera seems to float in the water of a pool as the light above twinkles and shimmers off the surface. In the distance, a body plunges into the pool’s depths, a boy’s legs kicking him forward and upward before more bodies jump in behind him. There is something innocent but threatening about the image and how Polinger cracks at our comfort throughout his directorial debut. By steeping this tale of adolescence with palpable tension and body horror, Polinger creates something wholly original and fraught with viciousness.
I joked with Polinger that I would never go back to this age again, and the film being set in 2003–before kids cae equipped with cell phones or buried themselves in social media–helps with the characters’ isolation. The Plague centers on Ben, a sensitive, impressionable young man trying to survive an all-boys water polo camp. He sees how the boys create alliances with one another and single out those that they deem different. Most of us have exerienced being teased in front of a crowd of peers, and Polinger’s film captures that second-hand embarrassment with nimble precision. You can almost feel your face getting red along with those who find themselves at their most vulnerable.
The Plague should’ve been in more serious contention for its casting. Everett Blunck happened to be the lead in this film as well as Nicholas Colia’s Griffin in Summer. I couldn’t help but wonder if these two characters would’ve been friends if they found themselves struggling to make it to the end of camp. Kayo Martin, as casual tormentor Jake, has a quick grin and sharp tongue, but there is something vulnerable about him that he shucks away so he cannot become the target of similar teasing. In addition to stringing us along narrative tension, Polinger should be credited with how he balances those scenes where no adults are present. The scene where Joel Edgerton’s coach reprimands the boys for taunting Eli reminds me so much of Betty Buckley punishing her gym class after tormenting Carrie White.
Is there anything more dangerous an unsupervised teenage boy? Those of us who grew up at this particular time period wrestle with wondering how much power we bestow on young men as they navigate the horrors of growing up. Polinger grabs us by the scruff the neck; his hand doesn’t just guide us through tough bouts of discomfort but he tows the line between being playful and being malicious.
The Plague is in theaters now.
