Sing Sing, 2024.
Directed by Greg Kwedar.
Starring Colman Domingo, Clarence Maclin, Sean San Jose, Paul Raci, David “Dap” Giraudy, Patrick “Preme” Griffin, Mosi Eagle, James “Big E” Williams, Sean Dino Johnson, Cornell “Nate” Alston, Camillo “Carmine” LoVacco, Dario Peña, Pedro Cotto, Miguel Valentin, Jon Adrian “JJ” Velazquez, John Divine G Whitfield, Sharon Washington, Johnny Simmons, Brent Buell, Michael Capra, Joanna Chan, Cecily Lyn, Katherine Vockins, and Reynaldo Gayle.
SYNOPSIS:
Divine G, imprisoned at Sing Sing for a crime he didn’t commit, finds purpose by acting in a theatre group alongside other incarcerated men in this story of resilience, humanity, and the transformative power of art.
“We’re trying to become human again,” says a Sing Sing Correctional Facility incarcerated individual participating in stage play rehearsals as part of the Rehabilitation Through the Arts program. It’s never really discussed in detail what landed them in a maximum security prison because that’s not what matters. They know they have been desensitized to a point where whatever crimes they committed felt normal. No, director Greg Kwedar’s beautifully compassionate feature is about regaining that lost humanity through the arts, providing definitive proof that such a thing is possible regardless of what abusive prison guards or more unforgiving members of society believe.
The key distinction there, and part of what makes Sing Sing so special, is that it’s not necessarily about traditional redemption. Regardless of what these characters have done -most of whom are not trained actors but actual former convicted persons playing themselves and bringing that raw authenticity to the screen – or how much time passes, carving forward a future is less about apologies and making amends, but processing and reforming.
They are looked after and encouraged by John ‘Divine G’ Whitfield (a soulful, exhilarating performance from Colman Domingo that is arguably his best yet), not necessarily grounding or elevating the other performers reenacting past experiences but serving as a motivator and a more familiar kind of protagonist for the overarching story. Divine G is incarcerated for a crime he did not commit and still has hope evidence will come to light exonerating him. He also appears to be the leader of the RTA, working closely with his trusted friend Mike Mike (Sean San Jose as a past version of himself.)
Like the convicted persons performing Shakespeare (and other famous works) told to trust the process and that nothing else matters as long as the characterization feels genuine, Divine G is putting his faith in this legal process. Meanwhile, viewers will be fully trusting Greg Kwedar’s vision that blends cinematic storytelling with reality, often to focus on the shining light inside this penitentiary (quite literally, sometimes breaking through in majestic cinematography from Pat Scola) rather than brutality and inhumane treatment from prison guards. The film is shot on grainy, 16mm celluloid, which combines a light, soft visual aesthetic with the confined, claustrophobic nature of the penitentiary.
While optimistic that things will eventually look up, Divine G sticks to performing on stage with his group, also bringing Divine Eye (Clarence Maclin, playing his formerly incarcerated self) into the fold after noticing both his talent and potential need for an outlet to express his inner torment. In addition to having a slightly similar name, both men could use some help for healing, often struggling to accept it. They both even audition for the Hamlet role. It’s a classic case of two different men on sides of the same coin, coming to find acceptance, support, and liberation through each other as much as the arts.
As for the play, the troupe is branching out at the suggestion of Divine Eye, ditching the tragedy of serious fares that flood back memories of their traumatic pasts in favor of a comedy. Through the assistance of the RTA theater director Brent Buell (a kindhearted, radiant presence played to perfection by Paul Raci), the script for that play comes to involve everything from swashbuckling pirates to mummies to gunslingers to more specific roles such as Freddy Krueger; it’s a mind-melting concoction built around time travel that brings to mind the Key and Peele Gremlins 2 skit of stuffing ay a damn ridiculous thing into a story just for the hell of it.
There isn’t much of a clear picture of what the story actually is, and by the end of it, amusingly, no one learns anything about time travel, but the venture of watching them act out the craziness and bring forth something deep and real than themselves to the roles is equally hilarious and heartwarming. Much like the rehearsals and acting exercises themselves, it also allows for each incarcerated performer to show personality and have worthwhile, entertaining moments. It’s also a rare film that succeeds whenever characters speak about themselves individually in a circle as an easy, simplified means of getting a bead on who they are and what they hope to unlock from these performances.
Given that director Greg Kwedar based Sing Sing on real lives (mostly notably story-credited Clarence Maclin, whereas John “Divine G” Whitfield is also an author who wrote about his time in the RTA, with the stage play within the film being an actual script from Brent Buell, and some of this based on an article by John H. Richardson, all expertly translated to a screenplay by the director alongside screenwriter Clint Bentley), there is also no denying that some of the story traffics in the usual prison story clichés. Obviously, what separates this exquisite, gutwrenching work of art from others is that authenticity pouring out of each performer. Its realness is second to none, overcoming those familiar elements.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★ ★
Robert Kojder is a member of the Chicago Film Critics Association and the Critics Choice Association. He is also the Flickering Myth Reviews Editor. Check here for new reviews, follow my Twitter or Letterboxd, or email me at MetalGearSolid719@gmail.com
