Directed by Berndt Mader, who co-wrote the film with Johnny McAllister, Booger Red is about a strange and harrowing child sex ring case in Mineola, TX, which sent seven men to prison for life. Allegations of operating a “sex kindergarten” out of the infamous Mineola Swingers Club were brought against Patrick “Booger Red” Kelly and a few other men in the town by a Texas transplant, Margie Cantrell. The supposedly exploited and abused children were brought into the care of Margie and her husband John – certified foster parents. Since the proceedings and sentencing, six of the seven men have been released and further investigation has shown that all may not be as it seemed. There may have never been a sex ring. Justice may not have been served.
All this is told through the perspective of the outsider Onur Turkel, a Turkish-American journalist based out of Austin. Through his eyes the audience is taken deep into the thickly-pined backwoods of east Texas. We seek the truth alongside him. He is our proxy. Yet he is also a baggage that weighs too heavy on the film. I should mention that he is a fictional character. His story is mere framing conceit which seems to be in place to help the audience process dense Mineola familial and legal history. Two thematic reasons for his presence are: 1) empathy and 2) perspective. Sadly, his presence only distracts from the subject matter at hand.
Onur (again, a fictional character) has a history with sexual abuse. He is so haunted by this past that can’t even shake the subject in his present: he reports on sex crimes for The Austin Chronicle. At one point, he is seen asking his editor (played by a sadly underused Alex Karpovsky) for more “positive” stories. It’s an undermining of a trope that sticks out as badly as the rest of Onur’s arc. There is no reason for his story. Just like there is no reason why his widowed sister-in-law from Serbia flies in to stay for the duration of the investigation, if not just to remind him of his brother’s abuse. It’s a framing device for a subject not in need of distraction. He’s a burdened man – told to us through random coke snorting and whiskey binging – whose story burdens this film.
Moments of documentary and fiction literally blend when Onur begins investigating the parties and places involved in the case. Interviews he conducts with the real people who were involved in the case find Booger Red at its most redeeming and genuine. The counter-narrative that Mader and McAllister piece together is undeniably compelling. In fact, it is even corroborated by an overwhelming amount of evidence, like there being no hard evidence of the “sex kindergarten” whatsoever, and there were actual abuse allegations eventually brought against Margie and John Cantrell by past foster children (all to make money off exploiting the town people). The case makes itself when presented straight. It’s just not told straight.
Both empathy and perspective are undermined by the shoehorned narrative of Onur. The story naturally evokes empathy. Putting these people on camera, these men and women who are often outcasts of society, who are often looked down upon as “white trash,” “rough,” or “criminal,” are given dignity and worth by being seen. We don’t need Onur’s empathy. The tragedy naturally draws it from us. The hybrid nature of the film stumbles over itself too often.
At Booger Red’s heart is a fight for the true narrative. Unfortunately, its mix of forms does more to muffle the voices of those hurt than it does to amplify them. The true narrative of the Mineola Swingers Club is assumed by the filmmakers from the very get-go, and that is telegraphed throughout. It steals audience engagement and the subject’s voice. While the truth is never completely lost, it is largely overlooked.