Let's get one thing straight from the start: no documentary about Brexit should be this funny. The fear that emerged when the referendum result was announced - the fear that reactionary populism was rising and that Britain was entering an era of mismanagement - has only festered in the past decade. Of course, Brexit has produced unintended comedy, but its mass ridicule is a bit unseemly. Watching politicians on YouTube say Brexit instead of breakfast? Laugh. Chuckling with Nigel Farage as he recalls the tension between Dominic Cummings and Aaron Banks? Chuckling as Boris Johnson talks about a tennis match with David Cameron, during which the Prime Minister tried to win his support for staying? No thanks.
Nevertheless, there is something extremely difficult to resist about Brexit: A Very British Civil War, which is a chronicle of talking heads between the 2015 general election and the referendum. Instead of immersing itself in seriousness and hand-holding honesty (like the Remain campaign!), it almost exclusively deals with attention-grabbing bombast (like the Leave campaigns!). From the start, we are given a taste of Brexit flavored juice. "The Leave leaders really didn't want to win," says Farage. "Johnson's position wasn't about the EU," says George Osborne. "It was 'Game of Thrones'." Johnson denies it, smiling. "Everyone says I did it for Prime Minister. I'd still have been Prime Minister."
At this point, exactly two minutes have passed. Has this series just spent its most blockbuster lines on the opening teaser? Not your slow. It is directed by Max Stern and veteran documentarian Norma Percy, a two-part series dries the ashes of the referendum and in the process discovers an endless parade of witty anecdotes. Percy is known for getting high-level interviewees in her films - in the past, she has covered the Northern Ireland peace process and Putin's Russia - and here everyone is a big player: Farage, Johnson, Cameron, Osborne, Jeremy Corbyn, Gordon Brown, Michael Gove (though Cummings is notably absent). Even Peter Mandelson makes an appearance, with a warning that he was being interviewed "before the full extent of his connections to Jeffrey Epstein was exposed." Why not cut that out? Perhaps because the focus is on proving that this is a party with an incredible guest list. Hell be the word.
Brexit: A Very British Civil War mostly resembles a funny nightmare: the purple bus, the red bus, Bob Geldof arguing with an angry fisherman on a boat, an elderly woman enjoying licking Boris' ice cream during an election campaign. In terms of interviews, it's a caricature circus and hyperbole. Johnson, as always a clown, seems determined to entertain. The then Labour leader finds it unintentionally funnier: "There's no me in Corbyn" is his justification for not personally supporting Remain. Meanwhile, Farage is compared to Voldemort, the Messiah, and a vaudeville act. For a reason; his increasingly comical roars have never been more pantomimic (and not villainous).
While preferring bon mots and tales of vicious intrigue, there is still plenty of compelling insight into Westminster maneuverings. Osborne, Cameron, Brown, and Corbyn all try to justify their fatally different perspectives on how to influence voters. However, from the moment we witness former M&S CEO Stuart Rose reading a hilariously awkward speech to launch the government's Remain campaign, it looks like game over. Cameron's turning point came later. After threatening to "blow him up forever" if he changed sides (according to Johnson himself), the Prime Minister finally got the message that his incredibly popular Eton school friend had left Remain. "Seems like out there," is how Cameron's communications director Craig Oliver remembers his response.
Why did Johnson jump on the boat? Thanks to his former wife, Marina Wheeler, whose work as a lawyer made him aware of the extent of the EU's influence. Johnson claims his position was the result of weeks of soul-searching, though his Remainer sister, Rachel, who joined him for another tennis match for the final judgment, doesn't seem so sure.
The second part leads up to the day before the referendum; Cameron's resignation and Johnson's uncertain speech. It ends with chaos looming, abruptly cut off, which is clearly comical. (The target of the joke? Likely everyone in Britain.) Does this program's fixation on tabloid drama reduce Brexit? Absolutely. A funnier documentary about politics this year? Absolutely not.
