In Cookie Queens, filmmaker Alysa Nahmias transforms the familiar tradition of Girl Scouts selling cookies into a lively, heartfelt, and subtly thought-provoking portrait. Premiering at Sundance with executive producers Prince Harry and Meghan Markle among its backers, this observational documentary follows four ambitious young Scouts — each with distinct personalities and challenges — as they navigate the sugary world of cookie sales.
The youngest featured seller, five-year-old Ara E., steals hearts early on. When she meets a customer with diabetes, Ara’s empathy shines — she shares that she too has type-1 diabetes and even bakes sugar-free treats for him. Yet, she charges for them, proving she’s already mastered the blend of kindness and capitalism that fuels the Girl Scout cookie economy. Ara’s scenes, full of pastel backdrops and piano recitals, feel almost dreamlike.
Twelve-year-old Olive G., blonde and fiercely determined, embodies the archetype of a perfectionist overachiever. With her mother doubling as a troop leader, Olive pushes herself to break records, selling 9,000 boxes and becoming North Carolina’s champion. But as we see in the final act, even Olive grows weary of the grind — a moment that hints at the pressures behind the smiles.
Olive’s best friend, Celia K., delivers some of the film’s most endearing moments. Articulate and fiercely loyal, she provides a heartwarming counterbalance to the competitive spirit. Their bond suggests that the true prize in this cookie competition might be friendship itself.
Eight-year-old Shannon Elizabeth S., part Latino and part Native American, sells cookies in El Paso, Texas. Her close-knit family — including her mother and partner Sushi — hustle through flea markets and parking lots to help Shannon win a coveted summer camp trip. Her pursuit reflects how cookie sales can open opportunities otherwise out of reach.
Nine-year-old Nikki B. from Chino, California, brings the most layered family dynamic. The youngest of three in a predominantly white community, Nikki aims to match the achievements of her older sisters, who have moved on to cheerleading and TikTok fame. Her sunny personality makes her the “hook” for sales, highlighting another subtle truth in Nahmias’ film — that cuteness itself can be a marketable commodity.
While Cookie Queens is undeniably charming, Nahmias skillfully threads in deeper themes: income inequality, racial dynamics, beauty standards, and the realities of late-stage capitalism disguised as childhood entrepreneurship. The documentary quietly asks why only a fraction of each $6 cookie box sale benefits the troop directly, with the rest funding organizational overhead.
Cinematographer Antonio Cisneros bathes scenes in warm, inviting light, balancing the sweetness of the subject with gentle humor. The result is a film that’s as visually delightful as it is socially resonant — a treat that leaves you thinking long after the credits roll.
