(IMAGE: Mammoth)
Copperline Creative. 2022. Drama. 116 minutes.
RATING: 2.5 out of 4
Prior to our current century, fear of a fascist government rounding up regular folks for just being who they are was a more common belief in right-wing fringe circles. Since it’s also an article of faith on the American right that Big Government is incompetent and will screw everything up, an assist from Satan and/or the UN was usually part of that particular conspiracy theory, and made it easier for the rest of America to dismiss. Since the PATRIOT Act and especially the January 6th insurrection, however, it’s likely more folks on the left believe the other side might toss democracy out the window and round up undesirables.
So while we used to get numerous direct-to-video movies about antichrist-spawned fascism, starring the likes of Kirk Cameron, Gary Busey, and Mr. T, American Insurrection feels like one of the first significant entries from the other side and the new reality. And it’s a good deal more serious about it, in a presentation one doesn’t have to accept a literal Book of Revelation interpretation to buy into.
(The movie was originally titled The Volunteers, and the change suggests some post-Jan. 6th thinking and/or SEO.)
Mostly, it’s a clever way to set a story primarily on someone’s rural estate, with only hints of the larger conflagration taking place in the outside world. What we gather quickly is that in this near future, white supremacist militias have become official law enforcement, while most anyone not Caucasian or straight gets a bar code to the neck, and hefty travel restrictions, or worse.
Two couples have mostly eluded danger for now, and are holed up in the woods, waiting 24-7 beside their ham radio, anticipating coordinates and a window in which to cross the Canadian border. Zabi (Nadine Malouf) is a Muslim woman, and the only one of the four to bear the bar code brand. David (Nick Westrate), her husband, is anxiety prone, for reasons both known and hidden. Sarah (Sarah Warton), a butch-but hetero radical, and Jarret (Jarret Kerr), an old friend of David’s, are accomplished at helping people cross, but figure now might be the time to do it themselves.
But they’re not great at the whole low-profile thing. When Sarah spots some militia members beating an openly gay Filipino man half to death, she shoots them both and brings their victim home with her. This doesn’t just set the clock ticking as far as a likely militia counter-attack goes. The presence of the newcomer, named Arjay (Brandon Perea), also disrupts the already fraught dynamic in the house, and threatens to push personal tensions to the breaking point, regardless of external dangers.
Politics aside, most audiences should relate to the pressure of co-residing under one roof without the ability to leave the property. Two years into a global pandemic, arguments that might have seemed trivial or manageable mask a larger collective trauma, and the movie doesn’t have to underscore that. What it is obliged to do is make it compelling as drama, and as such could probably stand to lose a good twenty minutes or so. The second act of the movie is so intent on a slow-burn that it takes forever to get to the good stuff. Hang with it, however, and you’ll find the movie sticks the landing solidly.
It is perhaps inevitable that things pick up once the characters go outside more. But the second act need not be hurt just by its location. Rather, it feels as consumed as every movie of the moment is with the notion that surprise reveals are the best kind of drama. And to make a character twist surprising, one has to establish the normal patterns for all the characters first (this was also an issue for Marvel’s Eternals). And it isn’t necessary. The primary tension should always be whether they’re about to be cornered by the bad guys or not; how they screw it up to get there doesn’t matter as much as the script seems to to think it does. Instead of holding certain reveals until later, showing them when they happen would solve a lot of story heavy-lifting, and make a more streamlined tale.
Because the real meat of the movie anyway is in the potential for people from opposite sides to recognize a common humanity. And while it’s a minor spoiler to say much about the identity of Gabe (Michael Raymond-James), another character who challenges the survivors’ status quo, suffice it to say he is not on the same page as the rest. And his interactions with Zabi, who represents everything he thinks he hates, ask the questions we all should have in real life. Can you make a connection with someone who believes you want to destroy them? Do they all, in fact, want that? And if your perception of them is inaccurate, why is it, and how do we fix it?
American Insurrection doesn’t hold any illusions, but nor does it take the lowest cynical route either. Nobody’s going to come out of the movie thinking, “Let’s just hold hands with Oath Keepers and Proud Boys, and they’ll be nice to us!” And not to “both-sides” it, but any Proud Boys or Oath Keepers who may wander in damn near certainly won’t like what they see much. (Then again, if they like what they see in the bathroom mirror, we already have problems.) Ultimately it’s a movie which believes that while events may spiral out of control, individuals can still retain their humanity and personal judgment. Though the cost may be greater than most are willing to pay. The hope, however, is to reach people who don’t necessarily want to be caught up in movements.
Getting caught up in the movie, on the other hand, is much easier during the last half than the first. And that’s a compliment; so many dystopian movies nail the setup but cock up the resolution. Director/cowriter
William Sullivan (Jane Wants a Boyfriend) ultimately strikes an effective balance between despair and conditional hope. But unlike fascism, it might have been nice to get there quicker.
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