For my last Netflix review, I wanted to try out a documentary that has received a lot of buzz on social media pertaining to a situation that not only hits close to home for me, but for many of you as well: Operation Varsity Blues… a true case of “privilege gone wild”.

In early 2019, I was a junior who was starting to feel the stress of college applications looming overhead. Amidst trying my hardest to achieve the best grades I could and incessantly studying for my first SAT, I felt incredibly disappointed and angry in doing so because I couldn’t escape the blanket coverage of criminal mastermind Rick Singer. 

In case you were living under a rock at the beginning of 2019, United States prosecutors publicly revealed the investigation into Rick Singer and his operation of bribing top universities to admit children of rich elites (Lori Loughlin, Felicity Huffman, etc.) through “donations” and fake athletic recruiting profiles. Even though I admit the “Aunt Becky is going to jail jokes and memes” were pretty funny, I was incredibly disheartened to see how everything I thought I knew about the college admissions process was already rigged against me.

Overall, Netflix did an excellent job with this documentary in bringing many different perspectives to the mix. They laid a solid foundation about the culture of getting into college and how it is on a totally different level than it even was 15 years ago. With social media, a rejected applicant receives blows in a never ending cycle when they see an accepted student flex with merchandise or a post with a #ClassOf caption. The lengths that a majority of students go to in an attempt to gain admission to elite institutions is over-the-top, from obsessing over certain personal stats, credentials, and even verbiage in essays. Meanwhile, Operation Varsity Blues shows how parents and children went to extreme lengths as well, but basically had a 100% guarantee of getting in due to Rick Singer’s “side door”. The “side door” was basically a bargain price through Singer’s “foundation” for a secured spot, while the “back door” is for multi-million dollar donations with no guarantee and the “front door” being the normal application process.  Real wiretap conversations that were captured in the FBI investigation were used in the documentary’s reenactment – not only did Singer say quite shocking things, but the parents were incredibly blunt in knowing that they were actively cheating to get ahead of other kids. It came down to even some children knowing about what was going on; One mother admitted she had to do something to get her daughter into a top school because she was “dumb”.

Operation Varsity Blues not only delves into Rick Singer’s psyche and how his past made him into a slick conman, but also shows the hypocrisy of higher education and companies like the College Board. For years, I was constantly lectured on the rules and procedures of College Board exams and the “zero tolerance” for cheating. Nevertheless, Singer’s clients totally disregarded everything, as parents quickly and fraudulently got multi-day, extended medical accommodations. Then, Mark Riddell (a professional test taker – aka “The Proctor” ) amended the kids’ scores to what was agreed upon by changing answers – and everyone got away with it for years. (Side note: My best friend needed

College Board accommodations for a serious medical condition. It took her almost a year to get accommodated, but she only was granted a 50% time extension.) 

In terms of the universities, Operation Varsity Blues partly puts the blame on them too (as they should). Experts attested that the undergraduate education no matter where one goes is actually equivalent, but top institutions are made to look “prestigious” with high application numbers and low acceptance rates. In fact, a former admissions officer at Stanford adds that the word “prestige” meant “deceit” and “illusion” in Old French. 

They also revealed that donations of $1-3 million dollars aren’t even enough for most elite institutions to impact admissions. In their words, donating above $15 million dollars or a building with your name on it will start to move that mark. Though Singer’s “side door” admission is closed due to the operation, this type of “back door” admission is still continuing year after year. In the case of Stanford, even though they deny this, the experts also explain how those making exorbitant donations get on the radar of Stanford’s financial department, who then refer the parents’ names and their expectant applicants to the admissions committee for acceptance.

Operation Varsity Blues makes it a point to interview John Vandemoer, Stanford’s ex-sailing coach, who was indicted for taking Singer’s “donations”. But, he didn’t personally profit like other coaches involved did from Yale and USC, giving it straight to the Stanford athletic department to fund his program instead. Even though Vandemoer participated, he remarked how the head athletic director told him he knew of Signer and worked with him. But, no one else from Stanford was indicted or punished except Vandemoer. Therefore, I (and the documentary’s experts) think Stanford used Vandemoer as a scapegoat for others involved higher up in the athletic department and the institution as a whole. During his sentencing, the federal judge found him to be the “least culpable” out of everyone involved, but his life was still ruined. 

I think Operation Varsity Blues wraps everything together in a profound way for viewers like me, giving me validation that I am not defined by the colleges I did (and did not) get into through such a financially-biased process anyway. At the end, it makes the point that the parents convicted in this scandal served minimal and laughable sentences for the severity of their charges. But again, it points the finger at universities that enable this behavior to make money. John Vandemoer’s lawyer summed up the hypocrisy in the best manner possible – “I believe in Stanford’s victim impact letter, they said they’re still in possession of over $700,000 in donations…Neither me or any associates working for me at [our] firm could find any case where the victim of a racketeering conspiracy at the end of the conspiracy ended up $770,000 richer than they were at the beginning of the conspiracy.”

Stanford claims that they privately gave away the $770,000 to organizations benefiting underprivileged children in education, but as we can see at this point, great “prestige” doesn’t always equate to great “integrity”.