Directing: B+
Writing: B+
Cinematography: B+
Editing: A-

The COVID-19 pandemic has changed a lot of things—including, evidently, my approach to which movies I am interested in reviewing. This may still be up for re-evaluation as we move forward, and more worthy films are available to see in theaters again. As it stands on this particular weekend, I’ve seen everything that appears to be worth seeing in theaters. And if this were any time prior to March 2020, a documentary feature released direct to Hulu could easily catch my attention, but I would never have considered reviewing it, simply because it had not been released in any movie theaters.

Well, Changing the Game may be the first feature film released on a streamer, and evidently always intended to be thus, that I made a fully conscious decision to review. Because: well, in the context of 2021, why not? This is a well-assembled documentary about transgender teens in sports, and it very much deserves attention; its release to Huly on June 1, the first day of Pride Month, was surely no accident. I want to do my part to get the word out about it, in a way that’s more than just a sentence or two in passing in a social media post.

Besides, this film was made in 2019, and did have its original screenings in movie theaters, however limited: it screened at the Tribeca Film Festival in April of that year. Whew, a technicality I can still fall back on anyway! I did show in a movie theater at some point, somewhere.

As with increasing numbers of documentaries, though, Changing the Game no doubt finds itself a far wider audience on a streaming service than it ever would have in a national theater release anyway. This is a good thing. It’s difficult to gauge the degree to which this film is just “preaching to the choir.” as how many open bigots are going to have their minds changed by this?

And trans inclusion in high school sports can be a complicated issue, depending on how you look at it. It can also be quite simple: as Andraya, one of the three trans teen athletes highlighted in the film, asks: instead of asking if it’s fair to allow trans girls to compete in girls sports competitions, you should be asking if it’s fair to exclude girls from competing in girls sports.

One of the most fascinating aspects of Changing the Game is the diversity of perspectives among the family members and schools support systems surrounding these trans kids, just among those who actually support them. The three trans teens featured here are each from three different states: a trans girl skier in New Hampshire; a Black trans girl in Connecticut; and a white trans boy in Texas. The boy is the one most likely to be recognized right off the bat, as he made many headlines winning multiple Texas State Wrestling championships while being forced by the state to compete in the girls’ division.

And when it comes to trans issues, there’s no effective stereotyping when it comes to geography. In Texas, young Mack Beggs has been adopted by his “hardcore Republican” grandparents who accept him for who he is, who continue to stumble on pronouns but clearly make a continued effort. In one scene, his grandmother, a Texas sheriff, finally takes down the last photo of Mack she still has on the wall from young childhood in which he’s dressed as a girl. I did find myself wondering to what degree that was performative for the documentary cameras, but how much does that matter, really? Conversely, the two shots we see of irate “Karens” (white women), yammering about how the inclusion of trans girls in girls sports somehow sets back feminist gains, are in Connecticut. In one case, well within earshot of the teen they were complaining about, Andraya Yearwood. And that’s just what got recorded.

And that brings us to a key point here: for the most part, these trans athletes’ peers truly don’t give a shit. It’s the adults who go ballistic, and bully them—they are adults bullying children. Mack’s girlfriend tells the cameras, “The people that are hating on him are adults, and he’s a teenager.” It’s sad that it takes being an open-minded parent to really broaden horizons. As Andraya’s mother says, “It’s very important to share this story, even if it helps only one person.” Later, we discover Andraya has inspired another trans student, Terry, to join the girls track team as well.

Meanwhile, up in New Hampshire, young Sarah Rose Huckman, herself the daughter of self-described “pretty conservative” parents, works to help change a state law requiring that trans students undergo sexual reassignment surgery before they can compete with the gender batching that of their identity. How many minors in high school have the means or the opportunity to get sexual reassignment surgery? (Or even the desire, necessarily, which is a whole separate conversation.) It’s absurd, and we see footage of Sarah testifying before her state legislature, after others stand up against it with the same dopey arguments about making girls “vulnerable” in restrooms.

In a time when a majority of state legislatures are continuing to push anti-trans legislation like this, it’s never been more important that people take in something like this documentary, which takes a very nuanced look at what these kids deal with, and literally who they are. It’s true that they happen to be hand-selected here for the purposes of a film, but it’s even nice to see the attitudes among their coaches. Mack’s coach is an especially interesting case, as director and co-writer Michael Barnett doesn’t give us any clear answers regarding the man’s moral view of trans people. The guy is coaching Mack, respecting his pronouns, in a girls division in Texas, and he says “I won’t leave any athlete behind.” I have to respect him for that much, at least.

Far too many people moan about supposed “unfair advantages” for trans girls competing with girls, and yet they force Mack to compete with boys and then complain about his “unfair advantage” as he wins state championships. By many Texans’ standards, he should simply not be allowed to compete in any sports at all. The coach who works with Andraya in Connecticut clarifies that sports is not just about winning or losing, but about teaching kids to be better people. This perspective gets a little thorny when you’re talking about getting a college scholarship as the prize for winning a state championship—which, incidentally, Mack was denied, as was the cisgender woman who placed second and would have won the division had Mack been allowed to compete with other boys from the start. (Also, props to Chelsea Sanchez, who only ever speaks about Mack with respect while also speaking out about the unfairness of the Texas policy.)

It should be noted also that the message “this movie should be seen” does not only apply to cisgender straight people. It very much applies to many queer people as well, especially considering the queer community’s long history of trans exclusion, which has only recently even begun to change. I don’t even like sports—and find wrestling to be among the least appealing of them—and still I found this to be a very compelling film. Trans people may even benefit from a film like this, if for no other reason than to feel seen. It really doesn’t matter who you are, you’d benefit from watching this movie, and others like it.

*Mack does his best with the hand he’s dealt.*

Overall: B+