Growing up is never easy, and it can be even more daunting to navigate adolescence when you are seen as an outsider. Teenagers have a tendency to resort to the most dehumanising cruelty imaginable, engaging in acts of mockery and disdain for anyone they view as a viable target for their ire. As someone who experienced this firsthand, it can be difficult to see works that are built around the subject of bullying. However, there are occasions when one comes along that feels like it is wholeheartedly dedicated to actually exploring the enormous challenges that come with being seen as an outsider, which is exactly what Charlie Pollinger achieved with The Plague, in which he makes his directorial debut with the story of Ben, who finds himself at a water polo camp. Despite being relatively proficient at the sport, he’s still viewed as a bit of an outsider, leading him to desperately attempt to befriend the most popular of his peers. This ultimately results in Ben joining in the merciless mockery of Eli, one of their peers who apparently has “the plague” (the term they use to refer to his chronic eczema), for which he is immediately shunned. Ben discovers that mockery does not benefit anyone, and the instant satisfaction is not enough to account for the deep guilt that settles in his soul – but his developing mind instead chooses to resist his attempts to be more conscientious, leading to a harrowing series of encounters in which the young protagonist commits so intensely to being someone else, he forgets himself in the process. A harrowing, deeply unnerving psychological thriller that tackles intense subject matter with a quiet melancholy and forceful anger that we don’t often find in such stories, The Plague is an ambitious debut from a clearly gifted young writer and director, whose ability to plumb the emotional depths of a story that will resonate with more viewers than one may realise proves to be the foundation for someone very special, if not entirely engaging on both a psychological and emotional level.

The Plague is a film layered with allegory and metaphors, which the director carefully weaves together into a story that is both immediately recognisable in terms of its themes and slightly more vague, allowing the viewer to develop their own bespoke interpretation of the film as a whole. There have been comparisons made between this film and Lord of the Flies, William Golding’s timeless story of a group of young boys trapped on an island, forced to fend for themselves. Ostensibly inspired by the novel without being an adaptation, Pollinger moves the story to a water polo camp that could be in just about any small town in America, at any point in the last few decades, and still has a deep resonance that we can ever consider somewhat universal. It’s in places like these, where brotherhood and camaraderie are supposed to be at their peak, that we find the most brutal, deeply unsettling depictions of masculinity. This is not a film about sport – it is prominent as both the contextual background and for some of the climactic scenes – and instead functions as a story of a group of boys, caught in one of the most awkward parts of their lives (that difficult space between late childhood and early adolescence), as they attempt to define their identities, and where they all strive to be accepted as part of the proverbial herd, to the point where anyone who even vaguely attempts to defy the status quo is immediately criticized and relentlessly mocked. It’s a haunting story, but Pollinger is clearly coming from a place of experience here – this is someone who understands the intricacies of bullying, where it isn’t always mockery or physical attacks, but also a very subtle kind of emotional warfare, the careful deconstruction of one’s psyche done through small but notable acts of psychological violence that leads to a complete breakdown. It’s haunting storytelling, and Pollinger manages to make something quite impressive in the process.

The story at the heart of The Plague is strong, but there isn’t enough contained within the narrative to make it purely a writing achievement. This is actually where the film is at its strongest, since while the themes are important, it’s Pollinger’s direction that truly draws us in and holds our attention. The film is driven primarily by its atmosphere – the moments of silence in between conversations are just as important, if not even more, than the dialogue, since it is in these sequences where we find some of the most harrowing commentary. The entire film is shrouded in an intense darkness, a feeling of inescapable dread. It makes a big difference that the plot revolves around a sleepaway camp rather than something like a school, since the idea of constantly being around these boys, whose torment goes from simply juvenile locker room talk and extends to every moment, adds layers of psychological complexity that plays into the idea of the gradual deconstruction of the protagonist, whose own mental state begins to suffer in the process. Pollinger is capable of saying so much with very little; every decision he makes with this film carries an immense weight. His filmmaking is simple but every evocative – he is not afraid to lean into the intensity when it is required, and will frequently frame a scene in such a way that we can marvel at its beauty, while also repulsing at the content of the scene. The visual bleakness is an intentional choice – muted colours and seemingly non-descript evoke the liminal spaces that defined our childhood, those places that played an integral role in our development, for better or worse. It all adds up to a film that is fervently dedicated to the emotions that drive the story, finding the perfect balance between tone and structure, and being wholeheartedly dedicated to quite a challenging and unconventional premise, with even more unorthodox ideas lingering beneath the surface.

The key to effectively making a film like The Plague is to cast the right actors, which can be a challenge when all of the characters are quite young, and would therefore require either casting from within the same pool of wunderkinder that are often in demand, or seeking out unknown young performers and hoping that they are up to the task. Pollinger clearly has an eye for talent, since this film consists of several very promising young actors, many of whom seem poised to make quite an impact on the future of the industry. The central character of Ben is played by Everett Blunck, who is not a newcomer but is still relatively untested, having mostly appeared in independent productions. Needless to say, there’s a reason he has started to build a solid body of work, since his gifts are quite clear – he has the awkward charm needed to make Ben likable, but also the ability to tap into the darker and more insidious aspects of the character, making him a far more complex protagonist, and more than just someone to whom we feel some kind of pity. He’s sharply contrasted by Kayo Martin, whose Jake is the polar opposite of Ben: loud, obnoxious and self-assured to the point of being insufferable. It was clear that there was going to be some clash between the pair, and the film constantly builds the tension to the point where the climactic confrontation is even more tense. Kenny Rasmussen has the challenging task of playing Eli, who is primarily just positioned as the outsider, the pariah against him everyone throws their immature insults – but while there are some moments when the film tries to make him out to be a more complex character, it is ultimately not his story, and the film is not the kind that can suddenly change course, since it is already tackling some intimidating themes. A different film may have focused on Eli and explored his inner life more extensively – but that’s not The Plague, which intentionally keeps us at arm’s length, which may be frustrating but serves a very important dramatic purpose that only becomes clear in those haunting final moments.

The Plague is a very simple film, a work as direct and uncomfortable as its very blunt title may suggest. It is important to note that this is not a film that can be taken purely at face value – it is a simple story that will resonate with many viewers, but the most interesting conversations occur afterwards, when we have allowed the film to settle in our minds and develop our own interpretation of what it all means. Some may view it as a contemporary adaptation of a classical novel, others a harrowing depiction of toxic masculinity and how the seeds of this social epidemic are sewn very early in life. Others may even want to look at it as a complex allegory for the HIV/AIDS crisis, which is an idea that does invite a lot of thought, and which could potentially be one of the more intriguing examinations of this generation-defining pandemic. Regardless of where one sits with the film, The Plague remains a complex and engaging exploration of culture, society and the enormous weight of the past, carefully put together by a director who is clearly going to be considered one of the great young filmmakers of his generation based on both his stylistic qualities and his ability to tell such an engaging, compelling story in the process. The Plague is a terrific film – simple but evocative, and filled with many memorable layers its a terrific piece of cinema, the kind of film that means much more the further we allow ourselves to dwell on its key themes, eventually becoming a film that carries an abundance of meaning and ultimately proving that the most simple stories are usually those which are quieter and more focused on communicating certain ideas without going too far in terms of delivering the central message.