Netflix’s ‘Operation Varsity Blues’ admissions scandal doc will enlighten and enrage you

When you’re a teen, learning your college admission status is an emotional roller coaster of epic proportions. With one tear of an envelope or click of a mouse you find out if years of homework, late-night study sessions, writing and rewriting papers, taking tests, and running yourself ragged with extra curriculars paid off. Will you get into your dream school? Or will you be disappointed, left questioning your worth in a spiral of self-doubt?

Operation Varsity Blues, Netflix’s documentary about the scandalous 2019 college-admissions scam led by mastermind Rick Singer, invites you to think about that formative college application period and never lets you lose sight of it. From the opening scenes of high schoolers ecstatically celebrating acceptance letters to subsequent tear-filled reactions to rejections, the documentary repeatedly urges you to consider students’ perspectives. Imagine how teens who worked tirelessly to get into college on their own merits felt upon learning that select students were illegally admitted to the nation’s most highly regarded universities — simply because their wealthy parents cheated the educational system.

When you think of Operation Varsity Blues — the FBI’s code name for the investigation of Singer and the parents, athletic coaches, and school administrators involved in his economic crimes — Lori Loughlin and Felicity Huffman likely spring to mind. The actors are two of the most recognizable names in the group of more than 50 charged in this case by federal prosecutors. And while their involvement is undoubtedly compelling, Singer, the man who orchestrated the abhorrent criminal saga, is the name that should pique your interest.

What the documentary does best is shine a light on the greed of those involved while introducing viewers to the distressing inequality in our flawed educational system.

Netflix’s Operation Varsity Blues focuses on the bribery maestro himself (played by Matthew Modine) and explores the methods he used to help the wealthy secure spots at America’s most “prestigious” universities. Filmmakers Chris Smith and Jon Karmen (known for Fyre, the 2019 Fyre Fest documentary) cleverly unpack Singer’s chain of corruption through a series of reenactments, interviews, and recreations of real-life conversation from FBI wiretap transcripts.

Confessional-style commentary from test prep experts, college counselors and education consultants, journalists, former federal prosecutors, and Singer’s former clients is peppered throughout to help inform and shape your perception of events. And among those interviewed is also John Vandemoer, the former head coach of Stanford University sailing team who claims he unknowingly got wrapped up in Singer’s scam. Vandemoer, who pleaded guilty to a single count of racketeering conspiracy, was described in court as “the least culpable of all of the defendants in this group of cases.” He received a sentence of two years supervised probation, six months in home confinement, and a $10,000 fine. The inclusion of his first-hand retelling challenges you to summon a modicum of empathy that can’t be given to anyone else directly involved with Singer’s wrongdoings.

For those unfamiliar with the admission scandal basics, Singer facilitated hundreds of what he calls “side doors” — as opposed to the “front door” process of applying and getting in organically. He used two main scams: helping kids cheat to get remarkable SAT or ACT scores and creating fake athletic resumes to get them falsely recruited. Then, in exchange for their kids’ acceptance, parents concealed bribe payments to Singer by donating to his foundation.

In breaking down Singer’s scamming tactics, Operation Varsity Blues offers a gripping look at how one of the biggest public scandals in recent memory came to pass. But what the documentary does best is shine a light on the greed of those involved while introducing viewers to the distressing inequality in our flawed educational system.

Seeing the number of people in positions of power — from test proctors and teachers to coaches and senior athletic directors — who were willing to compromise their integrity, help the undeserving succeed, and take life-changing educational opportunities away from qualified, rule-abiding college applicants will repulse you. Learning just how many conscious acts of deception are woven into the fabric of this scheme, and the money that financially rich, morally bankrupt parents dished out to facilitate the facade will make your jaw drop. And reflecting on the mild sentences that this group of lawbreakers and wealthy parents, whose kids already possessed more than enough privilege to get into college on their own, received will ignite an unshakeable rage and nagging sense of injustice within you.

If you turn on Operation Varsity Blues hoping to learn more about high-profile parents involved in the scandal, like Loughlin, or her YouTube-famous daughter, Olivia Jade, you will. But the overarching narratives of inequality, the volatility of hyping up “elite” institutions, and the exposure of a shattered system that sets the white and wealthy up for innate success, are the things that will linger long after the end credits roll.

Operation Varsity Blues is now streaming on Netflix.

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