Homegrown

Bluesky

Even now, as the Trump regime reveals itself in ways that many of those who supported it were not expecting, there is a tendency amongst those who did not to treat the supporters as monolithic, stupid or malicious or both, united by prejudice and ignorance. Whilst elements of this may be true, the reality is that nobody ever gets into power with the support of true believers alone. Just like other political groupings, Trump’s supporters have encompassed a wide range of factions and individuals, often with very different views from one another, sometimes with views that may surprise you. This documentary attempts to illustrate that variety, as well as looking at how ordinary, sometimes likeable people can get swept along by political movements and end up doing very bad things.

We begin with Chris, who is at home, decorating a bedroom for an impending baby, regurgitating conspiracy theories about a stolen election as he arranges wallpaper with pictures of cute undersea creatures on it. It’s because of the baby, he says, that he feels he has to stand up and defend democracy, and we get every indication that that’s what he believes he is doing, that he thinks Trump is the only one who can preserve his country from an impending takeover by Communists and Antifa. He has no evidence for this, but it’s what everyone he knows is saying. In the course of the film, a member of Antifa will explain its beliefs differently, but why should he be trusted?

Thad distrusts Antifa too, but he has a lot of sympathy for Black Lives Matter, and feels that its members would be natural allies of the MAGA movement if only they could see things a little more clearly. He’s a proud Latino activist who explains that he was radicalised by Michael Moore’s Fahrenheit 9/11. Quite how he got from there to where he is now, politically, is not really explained – director Michael Premo prefers observation to interrogation – but one can easily see how the emotional side of his activism has been satisfied by both. He’s a passionate man, trying to do good in the world, concerned that others are too quick to look to violence as a solution, yet drawn towards it himself, apparently unable to make the comparison.

The third main participant here is Randy, who is in a little deeper, having been organising MAGA events for some time. He’s not top brass and he’s not coming up with the messages, but he’s the sort of hardworking grassroots guy without whom no political movement can flourish. He has a good grasp of logistics and knows how to motivate people. In doing so, he keeps himself motivated. If doubts creep in, he can always turn up the car radio, listen to Proud To Be An American, enjoy the camaraderie which seems to be a large part of the attraction of the movement for all of them.

Through these three men’s stories, and occasionally those of others, Premo explores events which, by now, most of us have seen dozens of times, yet succeeds in casting aspects of them in a different light. We hear the violent rhetoric, note attempts to roll back from it with humour; we see that sweet side of the men but we also see how easily another side of them can come out when they’re part of a crowd – something that Chris, at least, is completely unprepared for.

There’s a lot of familiar imagery here. Flags that says ‘All aboard the Trump train’. Walls covered in guns. Crowds of people shouting angry slogans. We see a group of them gather to proclaim that they’re proud to be white and recite the slogan “I refuse to apologise for creating the modern world,” despite the fact that, elsewhere, they complain a fair bit about the state of the modern world, and there’s no real evidence of them creating anything. Proud Boys chair Enrique Tarrio puts in a brief appearance; praise should go to his publicity team, as it’s getting difficult to find a documentary on this subject without him. One man speaks passionately about his belief that capitalism is the best possible system but conglomerates are screwing everyone and there should be small government regulating them. Again and again, people come close to grasping important political ideas only to fall short, and every time that happens there’s somebody else there to draw them back into the comforting groupthink.

Should we see these men as extremists? They are certainly not the most extreme. Whilst some espouse conspiracy theories about Covid, vaccinations and masking, Chris worries about the risk of bringing an infection back from a rally that could harm his pregnant wife. When a stranger announces that Antifa are actively building Satan’s kingdom on Earth, everybody shuffles away a little bit and tries to look as if they’re talking to somebody else.

At the Capitol building on 6 January 2021, it all goes horribly wrong. Premo never imposes an overt framing narrative, but interesting things emerge. one of the men is furious at what he sees as a betrayal by Donald Trump, who assured the crowd that he was on his way there before urging them into a situation that will see several do jail time. One wonders where that thinking has taken him over the intervening time. It’s difficult to make and promote a film like this at such a volatile moment, and by the time it screens at the Glasgow Film Festival, everything may have changed again – but Premo has succeeded in capturing a piece of history and, along with it, an all too easily overlooked human story.