Young Washington (2026)

William Franklyn-Miller does one expression particularly well in Young Washington: the look of a young man who has just realised the room is larger than he is. He gets considerable use out of it. Jon Erwin’s film goes looking for George Washington before the marble bust and the dollar bill, back when he was a surveyor with more confidence than experience, and for a good stretch of its running time, that search pays off.

The plot, goes like this: a young Washington is sent into contested frontier territory on a diplomatic mission that collapses quickly, and he spends the rest of the film paying for it, one difficult posting after another. Andy Serkis arrives partway through as General Braddock and steadies the whole picture, the way a strong supporting performance can make everyone around it look better simply by taking the material seriously. Ben Kingsley and Kelsey Grammer deliver the politics from a comfortable distance, competently enough, though neither seems especially tested by the role. Mary-Louise Parker, as Washington’s mother, has fewer scenes than she deserves and does more with them than the battle sequences manage with considerably more screen time.

The battle sequences deserve some credit: they are staged with a grubby, confused physicality rather than the usual glossy heroics, and the Irish countryside makes a convincing substitute for the American frontier. For a stretch, the film seems genuinely curious about watching a young man get things wrong. Pride costs him. Inexperience costs the people around him more. This is the best version of the story on offer here, and I found myself wishing the film had lingered in it longer.

It doesn’t linger, unfortunately. As the ending nears, the script seems to remember exactly who this young officer grows up to be, and the script smooths the rough edges over in a hurry. The film trades his doubt for destiny. In my opinion, that’s the weaker choice: a bolder film would have left Washington uncertain a little longer, rather than steering him so briskly towards the man on the currency.

Franklyn-Miller carries his scenes competently, though the role doesn’t ask much of him beyond earnestness, and earnestness only stretches so far across two hours. The film is handsomely shot and plainly sincere about its subject, made by people who evidently believe in the man they’re depicting. Sincerity, as it turns out, is not quite the same thing as insight.

Young Washington is worth a look for anyone curious about the years the usual telling skips over. It is a decent, well made period piece rather than a memorable one: better at admiring its subject than at understanding him.