Every summer, young men from across Texas converge on the state capital of Austin to build a government from the ground up. For one week, the thousand-plus teenagers are sorted into “cities” and run for offices at the municipal, county, and state level; they’re also assigned affiliation with one of two political parties—Nationalist or Federalist—whose platforms they’re tasked with assembling from scratch. Only a small percentage of the population will experience firsthand this pop-up ecosystem, which has its own wardrobe, customs, and honest-to-goodness media network. In other words, Texas Boys State is documentarian catnip.
While the American Legion and American Legion Auxiliary runs Boys and Girls States nationwide, Texas Boys State caught the attention of filmmakers Amanda McBaine and Jesse Moss through one major faux-legislative stunt: In 2017, its “statesmen” (the parlance for attendees) were the first in the program’s history to approve a measure to secede from the United States. Rumbles of a 2018 repeat are swiftly quieted in the early goings of McBaine and Moss’ Sundance hit Boys State, but the Lone Star setting remains valuable to the film nonetheless. It provides an outsized character to the proceedings, and gives the entire large-scale experiment in American civics a natural antagonist in the form of rugged Texan individualism.
The film is therefore primed for what one of its participants fears might be a conservative indoctrination course. The whole Boys State enterprise is rooted in a flag-waving American exceptionalism, after all, and as the filmmakers take a bus ride from the Houston area with one of their main subjects, Steven Garza, the soft-spoken kid in the “Beto For Senate” T-shirt listens as one of his fellow Austin-bound passengers talks about disagreeing with Donald Trump but wanting the president to succeed, before another describes Barack Obama as “near socialist.” Boys State raises the question early, and returns to it again and again: Where did these kids get these talking points, how sincere are they in their beliefs, and will they stick to them if it means winning or losing a seat in the mock government?
But it’d be be far too easy to characterize Boys State (the movie and the program) by the kid who takes the podium to shout “our masculinity shall not be infringed,” or the sea of white faces seen in an early assembly sequence. Instead, McBaine and Moss zero in on four teens who better exemplify a cross-section of a state that makes up 7% of the U.S. map. Steven’s mother came to the U.S. from Mexico and lived undocumented for a period of time. Debate whiz René Otero is a Black kid raised in Chicago who marvels at the variety of cultures and perspectives he was exposed to after his family moved to Texas. When Reaganite political-operator-in-training Ben Feinstein shows one of his prosthetic legs to a fellow statesman, he flashes a star-spangled sock. Only Robert MacDougall—who, along with Steven, runs for the Nationalist gubernatorial nomination—conforms to any good-old-boy preconceptions. But cowboy-boot soundbites and rifle-cocking B-roll belie an inner conflict that emerges in the heat of the race, a “Made ya look!” ploy Boys State indulges in only sparingly.
The spine of Boys State emerges from the subjects’ aligning interests and aspirations: Steven and Robert as primary competitors, René and Ben as rival state party chairs. It makes for a smooth transition from the anthropological study of the early goings to the more heart-racing, but also more conventional, election procedural of the second and third acts. While the stakes get higher, Boys State starts to feel smaller, elbowing out peculiarities such as a state legislature that turns its attention to banishing Prius owners to Oklahoma after their secession schemes are squashed. But little glimpses of the society-within-a-society still crop up as McBaine and Moss play up the ballot-box theatrics, like the kid-run TV and podcast operations bringing the news to their fellow statesmen, or the campaign memes that would be inscrutable to all but 1,100 teenage boys who spent a week on the University of Texas campus in 2018.
Here, as in the real world, all’s fair in politics and social media until somebody gets hateful: The motivation behind a push to impeach René starts out on questionable footing, then veers directly into a racist Instagram account. Boys State has noble aims when it comes to teaching teenagers how their leaders are chosen and held accountable, but Boys State shows that those aims can only do so much to keep the uglier side of that process at bay. The cameras are there as an urge to win begins to supersede a desire to do the right thing, whether its Steven soft-playing his gun-control stances in order to appeal to his Second Amendment-defending constituents, or the 11th-hour rat-fucking spree Ben goes on in support of the Federalists’ candidate for governor. There are calls for bipartisanship, compromise, and understanding voiced throughout Boys State—but there’s also a subtext about how nobody, no matter their age, is safe from the corrupting influence of power.
When it’s most busily illustrating all the parallels between this training-wheels version of representative democracy and the real thing, Boys State can lose sight of the first half of its title. It’s way too easy to forget that we’re watching a bunch of kids. This has the effect of demonstrating how the parallels run both ways—that the mud- or meme-slinging tactics of modern politicking occur just as readily to a bunch of mostly unsupervised 17-year-olds as they do to professionals more than twice their age—but it’s also the downside of focusing so intensely on the gubernatorial race or following someone with René’s poise or Steven’s experience in grassroots stumping. Sequences from a talent show or glimpses at intramural activities don’t fully recover the fact that we’re watching scenes from a social-studies sleepaway camp. When the end comes, and the statesmen drop their macho fronts to tearfully thank each other for their support, or mourn the severing of bonds formed so quickly and intensely, it’s an abrupt emotional beat. With so much attention paid to the campaign trail, Boys State fails to show us how the waterworks get built.
But that too could be a subtle critique of an electorate obsessed with the horse race while overlooking the unglamorous day-to-day work of governing. If it’s hard to tell, that’s because Boys State isn’t one for definitive statements: Both the boys and the state are works in progress. This moment in their life has been preserved for posterity, but it’s just a few days out of those lives, and they’re not going to be the people we see here forever. (According to the directors, Ben has already come to “question some of the bad decisions” he made on-camera.) Ever the charismatic speaker, Steven offers up a possible epigram for Boys State when he tells his fellow statesman that they can “show the adults that the kids are all right, and we can do it better than them.” But this, from Robert, might be just as fitting: “That’s politics. I think.”
20 Comments
I was chosen to go to Boys State in my high school… Luckily not in Texas thank fucking god. It’s considered a good opportunity and good for college transcripts to be one of the people selected and go. I was not very similar to the attendees, although I got along fine withs people. I was a tad outspoken and much more progressive than a majority, it wasn’t a fun experience. I think my high school, which was very liberal, knew sending the green haired, punk show going, musically involved odd kid would be an interesting choice representation wise. I didn’t quite back down on my opinions when confronted.
With some*
I think this documentary works really well because we see almost a feedback loop where the 17 year old boys are mimicking campaign tactics from the Trump GOP but they’re also naturally inclined to behavior that the Trump GOP is basically copying from them (not literally of course). There’s a plot that involves meme’s as a campaign tactic, which is both a natural thing for high schoolers to do but also what Trump does.
I don’t think the documentary needed to focus on more the “boy” aspect involved, because I don’t think that it’s actually about that part of Boy’s Camp.
Boys State (Florida) class of ‘87. I don’t know if I loved the movie (lots of it is stomach-churning), but I was definitely fascinated by it. René is a gift, and in ten years (or less) Steven Garza is going to be running something.
Boys State (FL) class of ‘92
Oh wow, me too!
The place was an auditorium full of Brett Kavanaughs.
hahaha that’s nuts! and so true
My most vivid memory is how far of a walk it was between everything on the FSU campus – in panhandle Florida summer heat.
I ended up going to FSU. Bringing a bicycle to campus was one of the best things I ever did.
Virginia ‘90. My class was exactly like the movie, if you removed the Renes and Stevens. And even the floppy haired I wanna go to West Point guys.Of note, Boys State VA was not held in Richmond, but at Falwell’s Liberty University. It was one of the worst experiences of my high school years. And there was a gun fight at my high school.
I did Texas Boys State way back in 1995, and my take on it was that it was a joke and a popularity contest. Doesn’t look like it’s changed too much. I’m not sure what lessons it was supposed to teach, but I definitely didn’t get those. All I really learned was that the Texas Railroad Commission is way more powerful than it has any right to be. While I’m not a conservative by any stretch (and wasn’t then), I do believe in American exceptionalism, but even to me, it felt like a bunch of future frat boys hanging out patting each other’s back. The random assignment to the “political parties” made everything feel contrived from the very beginning.I did sneak off as often as I could to the Dobie Theater to watch crappy arthouse movies (it was the only theater within walking distance), and I found a great spot to read that was comfortable and quiet. But that’s all I took away from the week. All in all, I found it to be a pretty miserable experience. Then again, I was a shithead 15 year old, so what did I know?
When I was researching the candidates for the Texas Democratic Primary, I loved how one of the candidates for Texas Railroad Comissioner’s stances was that the Texas Railroad Commission’s name should be changed to something that actually accurately depicts what it does.For those reading who are not well-versed in Texas’ state government, the Texas Railroad Commission is in charge of regulating the oil industry, mining industry, and energy utilities. As you can imagine, these are quite important industries in Texas. It hasn’t actually regulated any railroads since 2005. Yes, the name is really stupid.
I did Texas Boys State in 2015, and it was much the same I believe. I really enjoyed the experience though, because I got involved in the platform committee early and stuck around with those guys the vast majority of the time.I’m not sure what they intended to teach us, but I did have some powerful experiences. At one point, a guy stood up and recommended marching all homosexuals to California and killing them by firing squad. Called it “the trail of queers.” This moment has colored much of the rest of my life. I was and still am very lucky to be surrounded by people who support me for who I am, but to realize that there are people who are really so indoctrinated that they can’t acknowledge another person’s humanity.It was a wild time.
i would like to see a doc about the girls’ version of this. it would be interesting to compare/contrast.
I watched this over the weekend, and the one word I would use to describe this movie is: predictable. The movie played out exactly how I expected it to after seeing the trailer for it. I didn’t find it either good or bad, it just kind of is. It’s just about kids that parrot their parents political beliefs and repeat stuff they’ve seen in the adult world.That abortion is one of the two main talking points shows exactly how these kids (all boys) have no idea what they’re talking about. Yet, it was expected. Same with the guns. You know it’s all gonna come up. You just blink and watch it all play out.The part that differentiates this from the adult world was the one-on-ones they had with the boys. The pro-choice kid who said he was pro-life because “sometimes you gotta lie to win.” The kid with no legs that knew he was being a scumbag, but “that’s what it takes.” I suppose they’ll learn not to tell on themselves as they age.That the kid that screamed and yelled so much that he had lost his voice at the end wins, well, who didn’t see that coming? So predictable.
Missouri Boys State alum here. My experience was really up and down. As someone who legitimately loved government and politics I was naively shocked when I realized my “city” was mostly made up of a bunch of dipshit legion ball players who were somehow deemed “leaders” in their school because they can hit a baseball. On the other hand I made some relationships that I carry forward to this day.
I went to Boys State in MN, in 2006. Had I known what it was I would’ve passed, despite it looking good on my college applications or whatever.Bunch of right-wing speakers (including a State Rep who laid out his reasons for supporting a bill banning video games to an auditorium full of 16-17 year old boys), one military recruiter, and a gaggle of old men snipping at us for a week straight. I basically rolled my eyes the entire time.
My older brother went to Boys State (WI) in the mid 1980s. I was more of a Model UN guy.
New York Boys State Alum (‘99), and my roommate/best friend was Pennsylvania (and got picked for Boys Nation). I got elected Federalist Party Clerk at the state level because I did the Truffle Shuffle at the party caucuses. Another guy from my city made the state Court of Appeals because he recited Dr. Evil’s “Inconsequential” speech from memory and with the voice. We were laid back as hell and just tried to find a way to have fun with everything (from hanging at the pool on the SUNY Morrisville campus, to the political procedures, to swooning over the cute twin girls running the cafeteria). The only truly intense moments were during morning PT from the Drill Sergeants (which they stopped after three days because I and a few others kept getting exhausted, though it was the first time I ever ran a mile without stopping).I’m very intrigued by what this film has to offer, because it seems like it reflects our times. In the late 90s, even in upstate New York (which is WAY more conservative than the major metro areas), things were just kind of chill because the country was doing well on the whole, and most ideological differences could just be reduced to immature jokes that we all laughed at. Hell, our major legislative “achievement” was resolving to merge the Boys and Girls State schedules to allow for a pseudo-prom, which of course was rejected by the American Legion because it completely defeated the purpose of having separate programs. I’m very curious to see what happens 20 years after my time in a much more politically-polarized state.
Girls State (Arizona) class of 1998 or 1999. I actually don’t remember the politics side of it as much as hanging out in the dorms with new friends, so sort of what the reviewer noted. My friend and I agreed to not so much make speeches but recite Eminem lyrics. Needless to say I didn’t pursue a career in politics (teacher instead).I was really inspired by the kids in the film and will be recommending it.