Katherine Kubler’s docu-series is neither a one-person account nor a revenge saga

Nonika Singh

To say that The Program is an eye-opener would be an understatement. This horrific account of the troubled teen industry in America is so startling, that the first question that pops up is — how can it be allowed to function with such impunity. The series not only answers the question but takes you deep into the quagmire where in the name of behavioural therapy teenagers are meted out greater harm and parents are duped of their hard earned money. Worse still, they are manipulated into believing it is in the best interest of their children.

What makes the documentation so remarkable is not just one thing but several. For one though it’s Katherine Kubler, who studied in one such behaviour modification school The Academy at Ivy Ridge, and who has made the film, this is neither a one-person account nor a revenge saga. Though she does refer to The Count of Monte Cristo, even uses a clip from the film with lines, ‘not for their sins against myself, but for their black injustices to others’ playing loud and clear, revenge isn’t the motive here. Without playing the victim card, yet coming from the heart of an aggrieved insider, she lays bare the trauma teens undergo at these special programmes. No child, deviant or not, deserves such treatment.

Following the Tough Love dictum, which is more like a diktat, students at the WWASP (World Wide Association of Specialty Programmes) were forced to lead such a severe regimented life that their time in such schools pales jail time. Imagine not being allowed to talk or look out of the window and restrained at the slightest hint of rebellion. No wonder one of the ex-students when asked how did it feel when he actually went to a jail for a misdemeanour at the school answers, “It was like being in a five star Hilton hotel.”

Yet another big plus of the documentary is how it resists the temptation of dramatising or recreating, the standard trope in docu-series today. But then the material at hand is volatile and dramatic enough. As Katherine makes us walk the very alleys of Ivy Ridge where all the horror unfolded when she was there in 2005, you don’t need any artifice. Corroborating her harrowing experiences are several other men and women clearly and deeply affected by what happened when doors closed on them to the outside world. If the first episode builds with individual reveals, the picture gets bigger and sinister by the time we move into the second and third episode. The rot clearly is not confined to one institution alone but institutionalised. Katherine shares, ‘If you want to know the guilty follow who the crime would be useful to,’ and takes us onto a money trail. Clearly the documentary has not been made in a hurry. There is purpose, resolve and method to its craft. Personal accounts, professional opinions, video footage and bit of investigative journalism are woven to create an absorbing exposition. Why even dark humour is peppered across. An expert shares, “New York state had more regulations for dog kennels than they had for programmes for teens,’ and it’s numbing to know there is no FDA for behavioural health. From personal, you even have Katherine’s father expressing his feelings, it moves to universal. Camera (cinematography by Peter Castagnetti) follows the proceedings with a similar spirit, focusing intimately but without intruding, as much a witness as we are to the trauma of the sufferers.

The three-part Netflix series rightly states — abuse of the child is the business of anyone who knows about it. As it climaxes on an especially powerful note, ‘now you know’ indeed knowing this truth is unsettling, leaving you with a big lump in your throat. Katherine, also one of the executive producers reminds us how abuse thrives in silence. For the sake of thousands of students still trapped in such boarding schools, let’s hope the documentary makes the right kind of noise. As viewers we sure are shaken and stirred.