The Plague isn't a new Lord of the Flies. It's more terrifying

Writer and director Charlie Polinger has not necessarily landed on anything original with The Plague. Set in the blue-tinged nostalgia of water-polo sleepaway camp in 2003, his horror-flecked feature film debut explores a relatively cliche, and often reductively illustrated, cultural fascination.

But it's the chillingly precise, honest exploration of childhood that easily raises it to “best-of” status.

Painfully sensitive tween Ben (Everett Blunck) is buffeted by the twin motivations of pubescent masculinity: the inherent desire to avoid conflict and be affectionate with his peers, butting up against the external pressure to be accepted by a group — even if that means performatively excluding and attacking the "freaks" on the fringes.

This conflict is driven by chubby-cheeked sociopath Jake (Kayo Martin), the 12-year-old ringleader of our marauding pack of swimmers, effectively left to their own devices, save for the occasional oversight of counselor and coach “Daddy Wags” (Joel Edgerton). 

But when he’s away, the fangs come out. In what anyone who experienced early 2000s boyhood would call an uncanny performance, Jake controls his followers with feigned indifference, preening contempt and the terrifying power to laser-focus and therefore weaponize the jeering of his followers.

That offhanded malevolence — innocent to an adult but apocalyptic to an acne-sprouting middle schooler — comes out early. And comes out especially when newcomer Ben sits at a lunch table of the relative old hands, who are aggressively debating a fairly ridiculous “Would you rather?” question.

Trying to break in, Ben asks whether he can choose neither scenario — though it's mostly lost in the distracted boys' screechy cries. But Jake notices something. Looking up with sudden, shark-eyed hunger, he waits. Then, like The Shining’s Jack Nicholson advancing up the stairs to a cornered Shelley Duvall, he breaks out into an expectant grin.

“What’d you just say?” he asks, as the rest of the table turns to stare.

Ben, unprepared for the attention, lets out a nervous laugh.

“What?”

Jake grins wider.

“You said, ‘Can you make it 'sop.'"

What follows is a squirm-inducing interrogation; all the other boys silently watch as Jake sing-songily forces Ben to admit he can’t pronounce “stop.” Then, an eruption of laughter, as Jake's role of gatekeeper and powerbroker is reinforced — particularly when he succeeds in coercing Ben to laugh along at his own embarrassment. 

Of course, this alone wouldn’t be enough plot for an entire movie. We're soon introduced to Eli (Kenny Rasmussen), an ostracized and unfortunate camper stricken with a skin condition the rest simply call “the plague.” The condition, Jake giddily explains, gives you plague pimples on a plague face. An infectious disease, it eventually breaks down your motor skills, removes your ability to speak and “turns your brain to baby food.”