America: The Motion Picture

If you ever fell asleep in eleventh-grade AP US History and woke up in a cold sweat dreaming that George Washington was a jacked-out-of-his-mind frat boy with chainsaws for hands, then first of all, seek help. Second of all, you’ve basically already seen America: The Motion Picture. Released in the heat of 2021 when we were all still a bit stir-crazy and looking for anything on Netflix that didn't involve a sourdough starter, this film is a loud, bloody, and aggressively stupid middle finger to the concept of historical accuracy.

I watched this on a Tuesday night while eating a bowl of cereal that had gone slightly soggy because I was too busy trying to figure out if Will Forte was voicing Abraham Lincoln again—spoiler: he was—and honestly, the sogginess only added to the experience. It’s that kind of movie. It doesn't ask for your respect; it asks for your willingness to watch a giant Robotech-style Big Ben stomp through colonial Philadelphia.

A Fever Dream in Red, White, and Blue

The plot, if we can call it that, involves Channing Tatum's Washington seeking revenge against a werewolf Benedict Arnold (Andy Samberg) for the murder of Abe Lincoln. If your brain just short-circuited because Lincoln and Washington lived a century apart, congratulations, you’ve passed the "I’m not a complete idiot" test. The movie, however, fails it with honors. Washington assembles a "super-team" that includes a beer-chugging Sam Adams (Jason Mantzoukas), a gender-swapped, tech-genius Thomas Edison (Olivia Munn), a world-class tracker Geronimo (Raoul Max Trujillo), and a very confused Paul Revere (Bobby Moynihan).

Directly coming from the minds at Floyd County Productions—the folks behind Archer—the animation has that signature stiff-but-detailed look. It works perfectly for a story that is essentially a script written entirely in Red Bull and gunpowder. The action is relentless and surprisingly well-choreographed for something so absurd. The animators clearly had a blast subverting every trope of the Revolutionary War, turning the Battle of Yorktown into a neon-soaked EDM festival of violence.

The Bro-Down of the Century

The heart of the film (if it has one under all those pectoral muscles) is Channing Tatum. He has spent the last decade proving he is one of our best comedic actors by leaning into his "lovable doofus" energy, and his Washington is the peak of that arc. He plays the character with a sincerity that makes the idiocy even funnier. When he yells about "Americaning" his enemies, you almost believe he thinks that's a real verb.

Pairing him with Jason Mantzoukas is a stroke of casting genius. Mantzoukas essentially plays a colonial version of every character he’s played since The League, which is to say he’s a chaotic, shouting ball of energy that keeps the pacing from ever sagging. This is contemporary comedy at its most "Lord Miller-adjacent"—fast, self-aware, and packed with background gags that you’ll miss if you blink. It reflects our current era of "remix culture," where history isn't a sacred text but a toy box to be dumped out on the floor and stepped on. Historical accuracy is for people who don't like fun, and this movie treats the Library of Congress like a suggestion box at a dive bar.

Streaming Chaos and Visual Gags

As a Netflix original, America: The Motion Picture represents that specific 2015-present trend where streaming services realized they could greenlight niche, high-concept adult animation that would never survive a theatrical weekend. In a cinema, the "bro" humor might feel exhausting after an hour. On a laptop at 11:00 PM? It’s exactly the right temperature. It captures that social media-driven "chaos energy" where the goal isn't to tell a cohesive story, but to provide a 97-minute stream of consciousness that mirrors a Wikipedia spiral after three margaritas.

The film does occasionally stumble over its own feet. Some of the jokes feel a bit "2010s" (the Edison/gender-swap meta-commentary is a bit on the nose), and the middle act loses some of the "how are they allowed to make this?" momentum of the opening. But then, a British Redcoat gets vaporized by a lightning-powered musket, and you're back on board. It also interestingly touches on our current polarized discourse by acknowledging that the Founding Fathers were, in fact, kind of a mess, even while it celebrates the absurd mythos we’ve built around them.

Turns out, the movie was originally conceived as a live-action film before the creators realized the budget for "chainsaw George Washington" would be roughly the GDP of a small nation. Switching to animation allowed for the "Big Ben Transformer" sequence, which is probably the most expensive-looking thing Matt Thompson has ever directed. Also, keep an ear out for the score—Mark Mothersbaugh of Devo fame provides a soundtrack that is as eclectic and weird as the visuals suggest.

America: The Motion Picture is a loud, dumb, neon-soaked riot that works best if you don't think about it for more than five consecutive seconds. It’s a product of our current "everything-everywhere" streaming landscape where the only sin is being boring. It’s definitely not boring. If you can handle a version of history where the Declaration of Independence is a "sick burn" and Paul Revere is a competitive horse-drifter, this is your Friday night sorted.