The plague 2025 fan review

Why “The Plague” is the Most Important Movie of 2026 (And Why It's Not About a Virus)

Let’s get this out of the way first: I was completely, embarrassingly wrong.

A while back, I wrote a blog post gushing about a movie I called my “comfort watch,” a film about a fungal apocalypse I was certain was called The Plague. I rhapsodized about sound design, survivalist found families, and a bleak, ambiguous ending. I was so, so deep in my own fan theory that I built a whole cinematic universe in my head. Turns out, I had somehow imagined an entire movie that doesn’t exist. The actual 2025 film titled The Plague premiered at Cannes and is expanding wide on January 2, 2026. And friends? It’s nothing like what I dreamed up. It’s better. It’s real. And it’s about a terror far more intimate than any zombie horde.

This is a movie about the quiet, vicious plague of adolescence. Specifically, the kind that festers in the locker-room humidity of an all-boys water polo camp in the summer of 2003. Our patient zero is Ben, a socially anxious 12-year-old (a stunning Everett Blunck), and the vector is a cruel camp tradition targeting an outcast, Eli (Kenny Rasmussen), who has a skin condition the boys label “The Plague”. This isn't a monster movie with special effects; it's a psychological thriller where the infection is social dread, and the symptoms are the everyday brutality of trying to belong.

I finally caught a limited screening last week, and I haven’t been able to shake it. My mistake was expecting a story about surviving the end of the world. The Plague is about surviving the world as it is. And that hits different.

The Real Horror is in the Frame (And the Sound)

If you go for one reason, go for the craft. This is a dang pretty movie about profoundly ugly behavior. Cinematographer Steven Breckon uses water—the arena, the pool, dreamy underwater sequences—not just as a setting, but as a character. The camera warps perspective, making you feel just as disoriented and out-of-depth as Ben. You’re never sure which way is up. It’s a perfect visual metaphor for the moral freefall he’s experiencing.

But let’s talk about the sound, which won the Best Sound Creation Award at Cannes. I joked before about loving the sound design of my imaginary film; the reality is a masterclass in auditory anxiety. Director Charlie Polinger (in an incredible feature debut) and composer Johan Lenox weaponize discomfort. The score isn't music; it's the amplification of a nervous system in meltdown. Repetitive, harsh noises mirror the relentless social pressure. A close-up of a bloody hangnail being tugged is given sonic weight as grotesque as any gore. This isn't sound you hear; it's sound you feel in your teeth. It’s brilliant, and if you have misophonia, consider this your warning—it’s designed to get under your skin in every way.

My Bold, Possibly Contested Take: The Ending Works BECAUSE It’s Abrupt

I’ve seen chatter online. Some find the ending jarring, that it falls apart or sacrifices impact. I’m here to fight that take.

The Plague builds a world of exquisite, unbearable tension. The “tradition” escalates. The line between game and cruel reality vaporizes. Joel Edgerton (who also produced) is the only grounding presence as the camp coach, a voice of reason that often feels as awkward and helpless as the boys. To offer a neat, cathartic resolution—a bully gets his comeuppance, a lesson is learned, hugs are had—would be a betrayal of the film’s entire thesis. The cruelty of this adolescent ecosystem isn't solved. It’s endured, or it’s propagated.

The abrupt ending is the only honest one. It leaves you with the aftermath humming in your ears, just like Ben. It rejects the Hollywood cure. The plague isn't eradicated; you just learn to live with the scars. To ask for a cleaner ending is to ask the film to stop being true to itself.

The Buzz is Real. The Fandom is Starting.

This isn't just my obsession. The film got an 11-minute standing ovation at Cannes and has been cleaning up on the festival circuit, winning top prizes at Deauville, Fantastic Fest, and more. It’s sitting at a stunning 100% on Rotten Tomatoes. The buzz is that this is a defining debut.

And I’ve already felt that spark of connection with fellow fans. It’s not about cosplay (yet…), but about that shared, gut-punched look you exchange with a stranger leaving the theater. It’s in the Reddit threads dissecting the final shot, or the TikTok edits set to the film's unsettling score. We’re not bonding over zombie kill-counts; we’re bonding over a deeply remembered, specific kind of pain. It’s a different, quieter kind of fandom, which feels fitting.

So, on January 2nd, 2026, go see the real Plague. Don't make my mistake. Go in without my apocalyptic baggage. Let it drown you in its specific, painful, and beautifully made reality.

What was the moment in the film that you physically felt in your own body? Was it a line of dialogue, a specific shot, or one of those purposefully grating sounds? Let’s compare scars in the comments.