Idiocracy - The documentary

 

Mike Judge wrote, produced, and directed Idiocracy, a 2006 science-fiction comedy that was meant to be an absurd satire of what America might look like 500 years in the future.

The premise is deliberately outrageous. Natural selection, combined with changing reproductive patterns, supposedly causes intelligence to decline. Humans no longer have significant natural predators, while the more intelligent and highly educated increasingly have fewer children. Meanwhile, the less intelligent reproduce in enormous numbers.

The film begins with Joe Bauers, played by Luke Wilson, an American soldier described as "remarkably average" in virtually every category; he works as a librarian in the USA Army. He is unmarried, has no children, is an only child, and both his parents are dead. As a result, he is considered an ideal candidate for the Human Hibernation Experiment.

The Army cannot find a suitable female participant, so it turns to the private sector and recruits Rita, played by Maya Rudolph, a prostitute, after paying her pimp, Upgrayedd. They place both in suspended animation for what is supposed to be about a year.

But the experiment goes horribly wrong. The military officer responsible for it is arrested, the program is forgotten, and Joe and Rita remain frozen.

They eventually awaken approximately 500 years later.

The America they discover is almost completely dysfunctional. Intelligence has deteriorated to such an extent that Joe—an utterly ordinary man from the twenty-first Century—is eventually recognised as the most intelligent person alive.

And the satire becomes increasingly savage.

There is virtually no recycling. Garbage accumulates into enormous mountains. Basic institutions no longer function properly. People struggle to understand simple scientific concepts. Joe is even arrested partly because he uses words that are considered too complicated.

Then there is Brawndo: "The Thirst Mutilator."

Brawndo has effectively replaced water. Through corporate power and advertising, it has become so dominant that people believe its product is superior to ordinary water because, as the slogan repeatedly reminds them, "It's got electrolytes!"

Eventually, Brawndo is used to irrigate crops. The crops die because nobody understands that plants need water, not an energy drink. When Joe tries to explain the problem, the response is essentially, "But Brawndo has electrolytes."

It is ridiculous.

And that is precisely why it is funny.

Until it isn't.

The film also attacks society's complete commercialisation. Corporations have enormous political influence, advertising is everywhere, and entertainment has become increasingly crude and intellectually empty.

One of the film's most memorable examples is "Ow My Balls!"—a television program consisting essentially of a man repeatedly being kicked in the groin.

There is no meaningful plot. No intellectual content. Just increasingly elaborate physical suffering presented as entertainment.

At the time, it was an absurd exaggeration.

Yet look at the explosion of Jackass, America's Funniest Home Videos, viral videos and some forms of social media content. Much of modern entertainment is not literally "Ow My Balls!", of course. Still, Judge's underlying point—that entertainment can become increasingly driven by instant gratification, shock value, and attention rather than substance—looks considerably less absurd today.

Even the president is a joke.

Dwayne Elizondo Mountain Dew Herbert Camacho, played by Terry Crews, is a former professional wrestler, entertainer, and television personality who became president of the United States.

Again, this was supposed to be ridiculous.

Judge was not predicting a particular future president. He was satirising a political culture in which celebrity, entertainment, and politics become increasingly indistinguishable.

And then there is the media.

The film's news coverage is deliberately sensationalised, superficial, and heavily commercialised. The anchors are designed more as entertainment personalities than serious journalists. News becomes another product competing for attention.

That part of the satire feels particularly uncomfortable today.

The most interesting aspect of Idiocracy, however, is that Judge did not really predict the future. He exaggerated tendencies that already existed in 2006.

That is why the film remains relevant.

Its real targets were not simply stupid people. They were:

• the decline of critical thinking;

• anti-intellectualism;

• the commercialisation of public life;

• corporate influence over government;

• the manipulation of consumers through advertising;

• sensationalist media;

• celebrity politics;

• declining trust in expertise;

• and the tendency to confuse popularity with competence.

And this brings us to Citizens United.

The Supreme Court's Citizens United v. FEC decision came in 2010, four years after Idiocracy was released. The decision substantially expanded the ability of corporations, unions, and other organisations to spend independently on political advocacy.

That does not mean Idiocracy literally predicted Citizens United. It didn't.

But the film's fictional world—where corporations, advertising, entertainment, and politics have become deeply intertwined—makes the development particularly interesting in retrospect.

The genuinely frightening thing about Idiocracy, then, is not that it predicted America 500 years into the future.

It is that some of its jokes did not need 500 years.

Mike Judge was exaggerating the tendencies he could already see around him.

And satire has a peculiar way of becoming uncomfortable when reality starts catching up with the joke.