‘Creede U.S.A.’ Review: An Engaging Documentary Sees a Small Colorado Town as a Model to Restore American Civility
Kahane Corn Cooperman’s engaging and heartwarmingly hopeful “Creede U.S.A.” stars the residents of Creede, Colorado, a sparse place (population: 300) so remote I had to look it up on Google Maps, only to discover that it’s just a three-hour drive west of where I was raised. The last silver boom town in the state, Creede is now home to a 40-foot aluminum sculpture known as the Creede Fork. But the town’s most famous attraction would have to be the thriving Creede Repertory Theatre, which was the focus of an August 2021 article in the New York Times — which is how the nearly 60-year-old institution came to the attention of an Oscar nominee like Cooperman (recognized for her 2016 short “Joe’s Violin”), a self-described “former theater nerd” who’d been longing to escape the “echo chamber” of her big city bubble.
On its surface, the story of how 12 hippieish University of Kansas student actors teamed up with a conservative mountain town’s chamber of commerce to start a theater company may not not seem like especially urgent material (even though one of those student actors was Mandy Patinkin, who serves as a major Creede booster while chauffeuring Cooperman around the scenic town). But for Cooperman, a longtime co-executive producer of “The Daily Show with Jon Stewart,” how the Creede Repertory Theatre came to be is of less importance than how the politically divided community surrounding it still manages to come together in today’s polarized times.
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To answer that tricky question, Cooperman conducts a variety of sit-down interviews with a diverse array of Creede residents (interviews that are liable to be interrupted by a wandering deer at any moment). The selection of quirky talking heads are interrupted and enlivened by eye-catching footage from a similarly diverse array of Creede Repertory Theatre productions past and present. And there are a wealth of productions for Cooperman to pull from, as the award-winning, nationally recognized CRT is a rotating company, which performs up to five different shows in a single weekend. Smartly, the director-producer introduces us to all these folks at the same unhurried pace as that of the elderly cowboy who opens the film, moseying along on his horse against the backdrop of a sun-drenched, high altitude cliff.
There’s grizzled guys like the proprietor of Mines and Memories, a storefront dedicated to preserving the history of the town’s former economic engine, which stuffed with everything from B&W photos to hardhats donated by families that have lived in Creede for generations. And then there’s the newcomers, such as the education director at CRT and her actor husband — a biracial couple with a small child who relocated from Jersey City. They were relieved, and a bit surprised, to have been immediately welcomed into the community with open arms. As the young mother says about the admittedly right-leaning town: “It’s a microcosm of the world, except you see everything in person.”
Cooperman shows us as much of that as she can, including the town’s Board of Education meetings, which provide for a refreshing antidote to the high-intensity showdowns that go viral on social media. (Not to mention a sharp contrast to what usually makes it into “political” docs these days.) Even a hearing on the proposal to arm school staff is equal parts passionate and civilized, as the majority gun-owning constituents don’t all agree that the Second Amendment should extend to the classroom. As for the Mineral County sheriff, he couldn’t care less who is armed as long as someone is. After all, with a shortage of officers and too much territory to cover, it could be 20 minutes before any law enforcement would be able to respond to an active shooter. Just the facts, boys and girls.
And, for that matter, those who don’t ascribe to the gender binary. Such is the case for 13-year old Lexy, who loves their hometown and aspires to a career as an actor at the CRT. While not all townsfolk are accepting of trans folk, Lexy’s tattooed working class dad and mama bear mom — along with their female best friend — form an emotionally bulletproof circle that seems to allow the youngster to escape the labels of daughter or son and just be a kid. Indeed, Lexy’s too busy with social life and the CRT to get bogged down in debates about whether LGBTQ+ subjects should be part of a health curriculum, a topic that splits the politically divided school board. While the CRT’s education director is adamant that queer youth could be harmed by such an exclusion, a couple of low-key men on the board seem dubious. Rather than a heated exchange, a calm act of reasoned persuasion ensues.
As someone who started identifying as what is now termed “nonbinary” decades ago, I’m not entirely unsympathetic to the Creede conservatives’ pronoun pain, but I was also encouraged by how Cooperman’s film uses these right-of-center folks as a clear reminder that no one in any community is ever completely black or white. And in the end, “Creede U.S.A.” is best enjoyed as a reminder of the various things that we’re liable to forget as this country tears itself apart at the seams, most of all the fact that civility still exist in America, there’s no big secret to accomplishing it. All it takes is what Cooperman herself chose to do: Set social media aside, leave preconceived notions behind, and deeply listen to the human being on the other side of the frame.
Grade: B
“Creede U.S.A.” premiered at SXSW 2025. It is currently seeking U.S. distribution.
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