Revisting Trumpocalypse: The Re-election of Trump

(A political short comedy film we made in 2018, and what it taught me about fear, satire, and taking swings)

In 2018, we made a short film called Trumpocalypse: The Re-Election of Trump. It was satire. At the time, I wasn’t entirely sure Trump would get re-elected. The idea was that Trump, still in his first term, had already won again — and America was spiraling into some stylized dystopia. We shot it in black and white. It was bleak. The Road-level bleak. But honestly, I was making fun of apocalyptic films more than I was Trump.

I kept thinking: why are they always walking? In every end-of-the-world movie, no matter how bombastic the fall of civilization is, someone’s always just walking through it with dusty goggles and half a canteen.

We were trying to strike viral gold. Trump was trending, as he still is. I didn’t realize it yet, but I had fallen into the creative algorithm trap:

Political satire without story is hard to pull off

We didn’t use metaphor or characters like Robocop or Starship Troopers. There wasn’t a layer of narrative between the critique and the comedy. That made it raw — and honestly, a little clunky. We didn’t really say “F*** Trump,” and we didn’t say “F*** you if you hate Trump” either. We were just trying to find what was funny in the dread.

I think that’s what confused some people.Because online, especially post-2016, everything has to take a side. It was more Wizard of Oz than anything. I ended with an optimistic message. That felt right at the time. I was 24, acting in local commercials, writing sketch comedy, figuring out stand up, just trying to make stuff that reminded me of American Pie, not All the President’s Men. I wasn’t trying to make political statements — I just wanted to make people laugh. But in 2018, even making a joke about Trump felt like a statement.

It felt like high-risk, low-reward — especially when the reward was a dozen YouTube comments telling you you're a cuck and a fascist. Which for the record, you can definitely be both a cuck and a fascist. I was the youngest adult in the group at Angotango. The other guys were already shooting political ads for local candidates like Candi CdeBaca. They had served in foreign wars and had years of life experience under their belts. I was honestly the wrong person to take lead on this project. I was just the one willing to write a script and edit the film to completion. I knew it but I didn't know how to say it. Meanwhile, I was good at writing but that didn't mean what I was writing had the level of gravitas needed.

I knew how to write jokes — but I didn’t have the nuance to write political jokes. So I leaned on absurdity, genre parody, and whatever I was feeling at the time. The perspective I had was fear fatigue. Every four years, I’ve seen someone predict the end of the world. In Evangelical churches. In progressive spaces. On Reddit. But 2016 felt different — like everyone was spiraling. 2012 was supposed to be the end of the world and it came and went. In 2020 the world would pause and for the first time it felt like it would end. Looking back from 2025, I see that bad things have happened under every administration — 2020 under Biden, and the years before under Trump, and again after Trump's re-election. Hell, Obama and Bush are getting a nostalgia pass now. Maybe that’s exactly what I was trying to say all along:

No matter who’s in charge or what chaos unfolds, I’m not going to let them steal my perspective or crush my spirit.

That’s the heart of it. Comedy, creativity, kindness, and hope are acts of rebellion — even when the world feels like it’s falling apart. But what the hell do I know?

A short film by Anthony Ngo