SUNDANCE FILM FESTIVAL — Spinning off the success of their previous feature, “Boys State,” which took the U.S. Documentary Competition Grand Jury Prize at Sundance in 2020, Jesse Moss and Amanda McBaine’s “Girls State” is a touching, thought-provoking and challenging examination of gender inequality. In a mock-government program comprised of 500 girls in Missouri, some of these bright high-achievers start to question the very program they worked so hard to get into.
Rarely do we see a mirror held at just the right angle that reflects properly upon an issue as massive as sexism. Yet, in typical McBaine and Moss fashion, this film is a sharp depiction of the country’s condition wherein no person, issue or concept is painted with a single brush. Through a select cast of characters, the audience is taken through the gut-wrenching roller coaster of what it means to be female in America today. Moreover, we are shown something even more jarring than the blisters from a day of high heels: the future isn’t on track to be too different.
The girls are told quite frequently by counselors and leaders at Girls State that the Boys State program is completely different, and thus should never be weighed with theirs, declaring it “incompatible for comparison.” But the year of filming, 2022, is the first in the 80-plus year history of the program that both Boys State and Girls State will run on the same campus. When the two groups interact (which happens rarely, according to the film), the shots reveal the boys flexing their muscles at the girls or hollering with each other (one makes faces at the camera in the corner, and another dumps water on himself for laughs). But through the glimpses of the boys’ actual program, they are participating in rigorous athletic training or listening to a guest speaker, including one that discussed abortion as “murder.” It isn’t long before the girls begin to notice the vast differences in the programming.
While the film doesn’t exactly clarify the structure of the program, it is almost inconsequential. The spine of the film is moreso the friendships between the girls, especially those who couldn’t be more different from one another. Shy, reserved Nisha and bubbly, outgoing Brooke try out for the same Girls State “government” position, but there is no competitiveness between the two. While they each have their own ambitions and goals, the relationship is so palpably sweet and innocent. Arguably even more inspirational are the relationships portrayed between girls of drastically different beliefs — relationships that American adults don’t seem to be capable of echoing frequently.
One of the protagonists, Emily, is a sharp and conservative Christian with a hard-as-nails exterior. She’ll be president by 2040, she assures the audience at the beginning of the film. But rather than use her beliefs to isolate herself, she encourages conversations with her more liberal peers. One of said peers, Maddie, definitely doesn’t agree with Emily’s policy beliefs, but she admires Emily’s tenacity and seemingly unbreakable strength. By the end of the week, the pair cries at being separated; they are still able to find common humanity, and it is an incredibly refreshing and heartwarming relationship to watch and take part in.
Of the seven girls highlighted in the film, Emily’s story will particularly resonate with anyone who has set incredibly high standards for themselves from a young age. The preacher’s daughter rattles off an astounding amount of extracurriculars that would alarm top Ivy League students. Plus, she aspires to be governor of Girls State, campaigning mercilessly up and down the cafeteria and on social media. It’s heartbreaking to watch as she drops her plate of food before the campaign speeches and implodes, humiliated to be crying in public because it doesn’t align with the tough image she is convinced makes her a worthy opponent to a man. It raises another difficult set of questions: who told us that crying was a feminine trait? Or that femininity was inherently weak?
The other throughline of the film is the political climate, which the girls frequently make a topic of conversation — including climate change, reproductive rights and mental health. At the time of filming, word was out about the Supreme Court’s draft opinion overturning Roe v. Wade. During the second half of the film, the girls are able to take part in a mock trial regarding a fake abortion case; but it doesn’t feel very “pretend” as the fate of all of their futures hangs over the experience like a dark cloud. Six days after Girls’ State ended, Roe v. Wade was overturned. Though this isn’t news as we watch the film, the onscreen text is a punch to the gut.
I’m not a huge Taylor Swift fan (I know), but the ending hits like a ton of bricks when her song, “The Man,” plays over the credits: “I’m so sick of running as fast as I can, wondering if I’d get there quicker if I was a man.” The girls’ journey to prove that injustice and inequality exist within the program — and the world itself — before they can even start to fight their own battles and chase their dreams is a perfect demonstration of the barriers that exist when it comes to gender inequality.
The film does an incredible job representing diverse people and opinions, and ultimately comes down to the extreme harm that polarization causes when prioritized over humanization. It’s incredible just how devoted and diligent Moss and McBaine are when they are able to ethically represent the stories of hundreds of people, and somehow they do so carefully and successfully. No girl is portrayed as “just” a Democrat or Republican, harsh or sweet, mean or nice. As usual, when it comes to social or political issues, writing off one side of your audience will never spark change. This is something the filmmakers seem to deeply understand, and the message resonates in an impactful, painful and emotional way as we learn this message through the lens of American girlhood.
Apple Original Films will release “Girls State” on April 5.