It would be pretty hard to not have an affection for Andrew and Melissa Shea's Americana-tinged 75-minute documentary Flag Day, a film set in Three Oaks, Michigan, pop. 1,370, celebrating this little town that bills itself as having the nation's largest Flag Day parade and celebration. 

Truthfully, before this film I'm not sure I could have told you the date of Flag Day.

It's June 14th, in case you're wondering. 

Flag Day, which enjoyed a limited theatrical release with Abramorama this past June, is far too much of an observational film to be called a truly feel-good effort, however, there's something authentically warm and inviting about the way the Sheas introduce us to these residents, many of whom spend a good amount of their year getting ready whether they're involved in the parade, beauty pageant, drill team, or recognition of the town's veterans. 

I must confess I hesitated a bit with Flag Day, both a day and a film with which I couldn't much identify. Having been raised a Jehovah's Witness, I grew up without much in the way of patriotism and sitting outside any classroom where the Pledge of Allegiance was being recited. While I'm long past the JWs, that's a ritual that just never took hold for me. 

And yet, I really needn't have worried. The patriotism here is easily relatable, the small-town nostalgic vibes quietly contagious and more than a little affectionate. My father grew up in a town similar to Three Oaks, and it's a place I love to this day though my father has now passed. In a town like Three Oaks, people know each other and lives intertwine. The commitment to ritual is very ritual without ever feeling kitschy. The parade itself is so completely sincere that even the humor feels gentle and sincere. You've seen parades like this in movies, beauty queens atop floats, Shriners, horses, baton twirlers, and nearly everything that makes you want to rush over to your nearest small town or city. 

There are meaningful moments here, though they're mostly portrayed quietly and honestly. Albert Brayboy Jr ensures his elder father participates in what will likely be his last parade. The scenes click, especially in this time when it seems like we look for any and every reason to be divisive. I was also pleased to see The Soul Steppers, a Black drill team from my home state of Indiana. Their leader, the delightful Lyn Isbell, obviously guides with love and discipline. They bring an urban feel to this rural setting, never feeling out of place even if they also don't completely feel like part of the community's tapestry. 

I will admit that I've never connected to the idea of Flag Day, yet Flag Day gave me a deep appreciation for it and a deep appreciation for the people who hold it closely. 

There are a million ways Flag Day could have gone wrong, and the Sheas deserve an immense amount of credit for making sure that never happens. There are quirks and foibles here, though they're endearing and never played for laughs. At 75 minutes, the film is nearly perfect in its pacing with accompanying music that adds energy and life to the film. I'm always a fan when Mellencamp shows up on a soundtrack, and while Small Town may be obvious it certainly fits. 

The Sheas feel more like guides than directors here, allowing this community to tell its own story and giving us a glimpse at deeply rooted, in your genes patriotism that helps to build this community's foundation even as this patriotism means different things to different people.

At times there's a bit of tension here, though it never truly bites. I don't want to explain it. I want you to watch the film and see it for yourself. 

Three Oaks isn't captured as some perfect small town, but it's that imperfection that draws us to it and to its residents. We may not completely identify with their embrace of Flag Day, but we can't help but find it engaging and compelling. 

Flag Day is a lovely little film, an ideal indie doc tackling a subject you've likely never thought of but certainly will now. In fact, quite honestly, it makes me want to take a road trip to Three Oaks. 

Maybe next June. 

Written by Richard Propes
The Independent Critic