While ostensibly adopting the perspective of a kind and sensitive 12-year-old boy going through the wringer at the hands of bullies, “The Plague” leaves a bitter, chlorine-y taste in the mouth. Set at a water polo camp, this competently realised debut feature from American director Charlie Polinger has its cake and eats it, gleefully aestheticizing the brutal violence and braggadocio cultivated in that environment. As alarming as that sounds, its relentless formal play seems a sign of cinematic enthusiasm rather than anything more sinister — the work of a filmmaker delighting in the aesthetic and dramatic possibilities granted him by his subject. Crudely put, “The Plague” reveals the topic of hazing and bullying for the filmmakers’ catnip that it is: an opportunity to indulge our morbid curiosity for violence and perverse behaviors, all the while engaging in more-or-less profound psychology. Premiering in the Un Certain Regard section of this year’s Cannes Film Festival, “The Plague” is a movie-movie, rather than a genuinely searching or affecting film about that most awkward age when fitting in with a group can seem like the most important thing in the world. 
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After a striking shot from inside the pool, showing kids in slow-motion plunge into the steely blue waters, we dive right into the main character’s anxieties. Sitting by the water, the shy and friendly Ben (Everett Blunck) is wide-eyed and silent among the other swimmers, all joking around and quoting catch-phrases borrowed from TV shows to one another. They would hardly seem scary to an adult — in fact, their terrible attempts at humor and often nonsense conversations are endearingly ridiculous, the way all 12-year-old boys really are. But in these early moments, Ben’s discomfort is palpable and undoubtedly relatable to many. It isn’t long, however, before the ostentatious score explodes loudly in the mix. Discordant and rhythmic choral sounds, which you might have heard on countless horror trailers since A24 became hip, interrupt the tension rather than ramp it up, drawing attention to the film’s artificiality and to the director behind the camera. 
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However, Blunck’s performance soon steals that spotlight, and one wishes the film had given his performance more space to breathe. Torn between wanting to be part of the group led by the horribly smug Jake (Kayo Martin, a natural star), and his own clear-eyed awareness that this boy is cruel, Ben is stuck in an uncomfortable in-between. Blunck signals this vague sense of unease, pierced by brief moments of exhilarated, childish play, everywhere on his body and face. For all its technical virtuosity, “The Plague” is most impressive for the strikingly embodied and vivid performances it draws from a uniformly excellent cast of children. 

One also would have liked to see more of Kenny Rasmussen, who is positively magnetic in the role of the ostracized Eli. His skin is covered in dry patches, and he has “the plague,” Jake tells an uncertain Ben. The condition looks like eczema, which could hardly be rare among kids who spend hours on end in a swimming pool. But as the film progresses, and Ben slowly comes to question those alarming statements about a somehow brain-eating disease, the true reason why all the boys avoid Eli becomes clear: he is different. Mostly observed from afar, he does not have the skinny body and charisma of the other boys, and behaves oddly. In the precious few lines of dialogue he gets to deliver, Rasmussen offers striking glimpses of a sometimes unsettling, mostly fascinating personality, that of a neurodivergent boy very much aware of the gaze of others on him. 
Isn’t his experience more interesting than the relentless mind games played by the arrogant Jake and his disciples? “The Plague” does not seem to think so, and repetitive episodes of group humiliation take up much of the film’s screen time. Ben’s revolt, when it comes, feels less earned than simply inevitable, the expected conclusion in a well-made but prescriptive film. [C]
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