by Josh Sewell
This is an exhausting, frustrating time in the world of politics, even for news and social media junkies like me. In the midst of an election year that feeds on fear, anger, and negativity, most Americans just want to get back to a time when government was boring. Remember when we could go weeks without hearing from the president? Or not worry that pending legislation might bankrupt our family or business?
That’s why I was wary when I got an invite to watch Boys State, a new documentary from A24 premiering on Apple TV+ this weekend. Why would I want to watch a bunch of teenage guys establish a mock government when I’m already prone to existential despair about the state of our current political process? With a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, I pressed play.
Then something crazy happened: I found myself riveted for the next 109 minutes, deeply invested in the pretend political machinations of several compelling young men. Sure, I wanted to punch a couple of them in the face by the end, but that’s only because the real world finally creeps in amid the hope that future generations might actually extinguish the dumpster fire we’ve created for ourselves.
Boys State, winner of the documentary Grand Jury Prize at this year’s Sundance Film Festival (which seems like a lifetime ago), is a far more fun and riveting film than its subject matter implies. In 2018, filmmakers Jesse Moss and Amanda McBaine spent a week with 1,000 Texas high school seniors who participated in an annual mock exercise, created by the American Legion, in which they build their own state government. (Notable past participants include Bill Clinton, Dick Cheney, Samuel Alito, Cory Booker and Rush Limbaugh.)
In a halfhearted attempt to eliminate any political bias (this is Texas, after all, where universal background checks are presented as the “moderate” position on gun control), the teens are split into two fictional political parties: Nationalists and Federalists. Then it’s up to the members of each party to craft a platform outlining what they believe in and support officers to carry out those policies. In theory, anyway – the week ends with the big elections, before they have to worry with the messy details of actually governing.
During those intense few days, Moss and McBaine track the escalating tensions that arise within the most prestigious race: the gubernatorial election. They spend lots of time with two compelling candidates: Steven Garza, the child of Mexican immigrants who will be the first person in his family to graduate high school, and Robert MacDougal, a charismatic and handsome kid (that hair!) whose dream is to attend West Point.
The filmmakers play up the suspense in the race through the candidates’ values. Even though he’s surrounded by dark-red Texans, Steven makes no attempt to hide his “Beto for Senate” T-shirt or his participation in a March for Our Lives rally. Instead, he calmly explains his positions on the issues and trusts his peers will understand his nuanced beliefs.
Robert is more conservative, but he hides his pro-choice stance after his party adopts an anti-abortion platform, demonstrating he’s not above lying to win. Even though Steven has no issues with responsible gun ownership, will Robert take the low road and paint him a liberal snowflake out to destroy Second Amendment rights?
The same dynamic is in play with the parties’ chairs, the Reagan-idolizing Ben Feinstein and the progressive, unapologetically confrontational René Otero. Ben, who wins his election by transforming his physical disability into a “pulled himself up by his bootstraps” narrative, has no problem with playing dirty, escalating a boring parliamentary issue and highlighting it as “proof” that the other side is biased and duplicitous. In response, René gets the best line in the entire movie: “I think [Ben’s] a fantastic politician. But I don't think ‘a fantastic politician’ is a compliment either.”
Despite the subject matter and disheartening evidence that our toxic politics continue to shape future generations, there are also some genuinely great kids in Boys State that suggest a hopeful future is possible. It all depends on the kind of leaders we choose to support: those who manipulate our fears and anxieties for personal gain, or those who treat us like intelligent adults and give us real talk.
Ultimately, Boys State shines a light on the complex nature of masculinity in modern America. Yes, there are men who will use the political system to increase their power or foment hate. We see this in the kids who immediately draft bills to impeach the new black party chair or kick Prius drivers out of Texas. But we also see kids who understand the transformative power of politics and see it as a genuine public service.
As the end credits rolled, all I could think is that I’d love to see a sequel focused on the girls’ version of this event, which is also sponsored by the American Legion. I imagine that Girls State would be a far different, yet equally compelling, documentary.
Boys State is rated PG-13 for some strong language, and thematic elements. Streaming on Apple TV+.
Grade: A-
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| Courtesy of A24 |
That’s why I was wary when I got an invite to watch Boys State, a new documentary from A24 premiering on Apple TV+ this weekend. Why would I want to watch a bunch of teenage guys establish a mock government when I’m already prone to existential despair about the state of our current political process? With a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, I pressed play.
Then something crazy happened: I found myself riveted for the next 109 minutes, deeply invested in the pretend political machinations of several compelling young men. Sure, I wanted to punch a couple of them in the face by the end, but that’s only because the real world finally creeps in amid the hope that future generations might actually extinguish the dumpster fire we’ve created for ourselves.
Boys State, winner of the documentary Grand Jury Prize at this year’s Sundance Film Festival (which seems like a lifetime ago), is a far more fun and riveting film than its subject matter implies. In 2018, filmmakers Jesse Moss and Amanda McBaine spent a week with 1,000 Texas high school seniors who participated in an annual mock exercise, created by the American Legion, in which they build their own state government. (Notable past participants include Bill Clinton, Dick Cheney, Samuel Alito, Cory Booker and Rush Limbaugh.)
In a halfhearted attempt to eliminate any political bias (this is Texas, after all, where universal background checks are presented as the “moderate” position on gun control), the teens are split into two fictional political parties: Nationalists and Federalists. Then it’s up to the members of each party to craft a platform outlining what they believe in and support officers to carry out those policies. In theory, anyway – the week ends with the big elections, before they have to worry with the messy details of actually governing.
During those intense few days, Moss and McBaine track the escalating tensions that arise within the most prestigious race: the gubernatorial election. They spend lots of time with two compelling candidates: Steven Garza, the child of Mexican immigrants who will be the first person in his family to graduate high school, and Robert MacDougal, a charismatic and handsome kid (that hair!) whose dream is to attend West Point.
The filmmakers play up the suspense in the race through the candidates’ values. Even though he’s surrounded by dark-red Texans, Steven makes no attempt to hide his “Beto for Senate” T-shirt or his participation in a March for Our Lives rally. Instead, he calmly explains his positions on the issues and trusts his peers will understand his nuanced beliefs.
Robert is more conservative, but he hides his pro-choice stance after his party adopts an anti-abortion platform, demonstrating he’s not above lying to win. Even though Steven has no issues with responsible gun ownership, will Robert take the low road and paint him a liberal snowflake out to destroy Second Amendment rights?
The same dynamic is in play with the parties’ chairs, the Reagan-idolizing Ben Feinstein and the progressive, unapologetically confrontational René Otero. Ben, who wins his election by transforming his physical disability into a “pulled himself up by his bootstraps” narrative, has no problem with playing dirty, escalating a boring parliamentary issue and highlighting it as “proof” that the other side is biased and duplicitous. In response, René gets the best line in the entire movie: “I think [Ben’s] a fantastic politician. But I don't think ‘a fantastic politician’ is a compliment either.”
Despite the subject matter and disheartening evidence that our toxic politics continue to shape future generations, there are also some genuinely great kids in Boys State that suggest a hopeful future is possible. It all depends on the kind of leaders we choose to support: those who manipulate our fears and anxieties for personal gain, or those who treat us like intelligent adults and give us real talk.
Ultimately, Boys State shines a light on the complex nature of masculinity in modern America. Yes, there are men who will use the political system to increase their power or foment hate. We see this in the kids who immediately draft bills to impeach the new black party chair or kick Prius drivers out of Texas. But we also see kids who understand the transformative power of politics and see it as a genuine public service.
As the end credits rolled, all I could think is that I’d love to see a sequel focused on the girls’ version of this event, which is also sponsored by the American Legion. I imagine that Girls State would be a far different, yet equally compelling, documentary.
Boys State is rated PG-13 for some strong language, and thematic elements. Streaming on Apple TV+.
Grade: A-
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