The Biopic Trap: When Patriotism Meets Propaganda
There’s something inherently tricky about biopics, especially those centered on historical figures as mythologized as George Washington. They walk a fine line between education and idolization, between history and hagiography. Young Washington, the latest offering from Angel Studios, doesn’t just walk that line—it trips over it, face-plants, and then tries to sell you a bandage.
What makes this particularly fascinating is how the film’s flaws aren’t just cinematic but ideological. Angel Studios has carved out a niche catering to conservative Christian and American values, but their approach often feels less like conviction and more like desperation. Take their infamous closing credits strategy: a thinly veiled plea for audiences to buy extra tickets to inflate box office numbers. Personally, I think this tactic reveals a deep insecurity. If you truly believe your values resonate, why manipulate the system? It’s like shouting “I’m relevant!” in a crowded room—the harder you try, the more it backfires.
This brings me to Young Washington itself. Directed by Jon Erwin, the film is a well-intentioned but ultimately shallow attempt to humanize America’s first president. William Franklyn-Miller’s portrayal of Washington is serviceable, but the script never lets him be anything more than a boy scout with a musket. One thing that immediately stands out is the film’s reluctance to engage with the complexities of its subject. Washington owned slaves—a fact the movie acknowledges in passing, but only to frame it as an act of charity. This whitewashing isn’t just historically inaccurate; it’s intellectually dishonest.
From my perspective, this is where the film loses its soul. Biopics don’t have to be takedowns, but they should at least grapple with the moral ambiguities of their subjects. Young Mr. Lincoln, the 1939 classic this film tries (and fails) to emulate, managed to elevate its protagonist without ignoring the flaws of the era. Young Washington, on the other hand, feels like a propaganda piece masquerading as history. Slow-motion gunfights and sick horse stunts? Sure, they’re visually impressive, but they do little to deepen our understanding of the man or his legacy.
What many people don’t realize is that these kinds of films often say more about the present than the past. Angel Studios’ obsession with conservative values feels less like a celebration of America and more like a reaction to perceived cultural decline. The film’s portrayal of Washington as a divine savior—literally, according to one cringe-worthy scene involving Indigenous Peoples—is a telling example. It’s not just historically inaccurate; it’s culturally tone-deaf.
If you take a step back and think about it, Young Washington is a symptom of a larger trend in media: the weaponization of nostalgia. By glossing over the uglier aspects of history, the film doesn’t just simplify Washington—it simplifies America itself. This raises a deeper question: Are we so uncomfortable with our past that we’d rather invent a new one?
A detail that I find especially interesting is the film’s visual style. Erwin’s direction is competent, even impressive at times. The 1750s Virginia landscapes are lush, the costumes meticulous. But this polish only highlights the narrative’s hollowness. It’s like wrapping a turd in gold foil—it still smells.
What this really suggests is that technical proficiency can’t save a flawed story. The cast, too, feels trapped by the script. Ben Kingsley and Kelsey Grammer phone in their performances, while Andy Serkis is reduced to playing a one-dimensional villain. Only Angus Castle-Doughty, as a snarky militiaman, brings any life to the screen. But even he can’t rescue a film that’s more interested in myth-making than storytelling.
In my opinion, Young Washington is a missed opportunity. It could have been a nuanced exploration of leadership, failure, and redemption. Instead, it’s a rah-rah spectacle that feels more like a campaign ad than a movie. And with Angel Studios’ ticket-selling scheme looming over it, the whole enterprise feels tainted.
As we celebrate America’s 250th anniversary, films like this remind us of the dangers of uncritical patriotism. History isn’t a fairy tale, and our heroes weren’t perfect. By pretending otherwise, we don’t honor them—we diminish them. Young Washington isn’t just a bad movie; it’s a cautionary tale about what happens when ideology trumps truth.
So, the next time you see a biopic, ask yourself: Is this history, or is it propaganda? The answer might just surprise you.
