Young Washington, from Angel Studios

Contrary to popular misconception, George Washington grew up more like Abraham Lincoln than Thomas Jefferson. The estate he eventually inherited was more of a yeoman farm than a plantation in the true antebellum sense. He also had relatively little formal education, but he read voraciously, just like his aforementioned presidential successor. In his youth, he also aspired to serve the King as a British officer, but his Colonial status thwarted his ambitions. Nevertheless, Washington perseveres in Jon Erwin’s Young Washington, from Angel Studios, which opens today in theaters.

Erwin and co-screenwriters Diederik Hoogstraten and Tom Provost skip all the cherry tree business. Washington’s father has died, leaving him and his mother, Mary, in a precarious position. They are the poor relations of his older half-brother Lawrence, whose higher status remains contingent on British good will. Nevertheless, he, somewhat reluctantly, helps Washington pursue his goal of an official commission in the British Army.

In some ways, Washington finds a more influential patron in Lord Fairfax, who dispatches the ambitious young man to survey his wild Ohio Valley holdings. As it happens, that wilderness experience will lead to Washington’s appointment as a Colonial Militia officer, but decidedly not a British officer proper, during the French and Indian War. However, his first command takes an absolutely disastrous turn.

To Erwin’s credit, the film never sugarcoats Washington’s early failures. However, it makes equally clear how much the young officer learned from those mistakes. Indeed, viewers will walk out of Young Washington understanding how his setbacks prepared Washington to lead his country to victory in the Revolutionary War, even though the film ends long before independence ever becomes a half-baked popular notion.

Truly, it is a real trick to make a patriotic American story, while its protagonist remains loyal to the crown, but Erwin and company pull it off quite adroitly. In fact, it rather makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck when Erwin and lead actor William Franklyn-Miller show how Washington and his men started to identify as Virginians rather than British subjects.

Franklyn-Miller is a real find, portraying the man-who-would-be-President’s tremendous complexity and hard-earned character growth. This is not hagiography, which makes it all the more inspiring. He also forges deeply resonant chemistry with Mary-Louise Parker and John Foss, as Mary and Lawrence, respectively. Frankly, Parker deserves awards consideration for her gritty, no-nonsense, but acutely poignant portrayal of Mary Washington, but such open-mindedness is probably far too much to ask for.

Kelsey Grammer (and his appropriate transatlantic accent) adds some welcome panache in the relatively brief role of Fairfax, but he also serves as the film’s de facto spokesman in the post-screening message to the audience. Admittedly, Sir Ben Kingsley and Andy Serkis play Robert Dinwiddie (Virginia’s royal administrator) and Gen. Braddock like stereotypical arrogant British snobs, but that very real high-handed attitude eventually directly contributed to the Brits’ defeat.

Arguably, in its own distinctive way, Young Washington also boasts some of the most brutally honest depictions of warfighting conditions you will see on film. While it cannot compete with the overwhelming spectacle of films like Saving Private Ryan, it vividly captures punishing misery of war, including the mud, the muck, the poor sanitation, and the debilitating disease that still mark battlefields.

This is a heartfelt film, but it is also intelligent. While some minor historical details were glossed for dramatic purposes, only the most disingenuous pedants will object. Yet, Erwin consequently maintains an unusually healthy pace and flow for the historical genre. It is entertaining, while promoting fresh new respect for Washington. Very highly recommended, Young Washington opens nationwide today (7/3), including the AMC Lincoln Square in New York.