Sing Sing: A Powerful Argument for Humanity in the Darkest of Places
In the heart of Sing Sing Correctional Facility, a beacon of hope shines bright. Rehabilitation Through the Arts (RTA), a theater program for incarcerated men, has been a source of inspiration and growth for its participants. The film “Sing Sing” is a testament to the power of art to transform lives, even in the most unlikely of places.
The film is the result of years of research and volunteer work by writer/director Greg Kwedar and his co-writer Clint Bentley. Kwedar and Bentley’s dedication to telling the story of RTA is evident in every frame of the film. The supporting cast, all playing themselves, deliver powerful performances that are both heart-wrenching and uplifting.
The plot follows the production of RTA’s first original play, a sprawling time-travel comedy that moves from ancient Egypt to gladiator arenas to the Old West. But the film is about so much more than just these men putting on a show. It’s about the hope and heartbreak within these walls; the personal growth and triumph that these men experience together onstage.
Kwedar demonstrates a remarkable patience with his filmmaking, in both form and storytelling. Cinematographer Pat Scola shoots on 16 mm, celluloid requiring the kind of care and thoughtfulness that this story also requires. The film stock is rich and saturated in a warm palette of earthy golds and greens that reflects both the natural and institutional environment.
“The film is about so much more than just these men putting on a show. It’s about the hope and heartbreak within these walls; the personal growth and triumph that these men experience together onstage.” - Greg Kwedar
Kwedar and Scola establish a motif of slow zooms to situate the characters in space and draw our attention to their interactions. In the theater room, while the men share with each other or participate in improv games, the camera is loose and eye level, inviting the audience to become participants.
A group of men rehearsing a play
Kwedar and Bentley’s screenplay is deft and subtle, personal backstories emerging organically in conversation. They also make the powerful choice to skirt melodrama and avoid the kind of violence one might expect from a “prison movie.” There is loss, grief, and disappointment, but this is not a sensationalized portrait of prison life. It’s a humble assertion that life here continues on in all its tragedies and triumphs: loved ones are lost and challenges seem insurmountable, but hard work pays off, and there are still happy surprises to be had.
In this deeply empathetic depiction, “Sing Sing” is a powerful argument for humanity within a space designed to dehumanize. RTA is an oasis from this institution where everyday life is rife with the kind of large and small humiliations and nagging reminders that their time and lives are not their own.
A man standing on stage, looking out at the audience
Domingo is the kind of actor who can do anything, but he does this kind of quietly dignified, heartbreakingly hopeful character just about better than anyone. He is the beating, bleeding heart of “Sing Sing,” but he allows his troupe of players to shine even brighter and take center stage for their big moments. San Jose delivers a monologue that is one of the most devastating scenes on film all year. But Maclin steals the whole movie performing his own personal journey, as a man who allows himself to crack open and let the light — and love — in.
A group of men standing together, smiling
If it feels like Kwedar doesn’t exactly know how to end the film, with a few too many denouements cluttering the conclusion, but it’s a forgivable infraction. One can almost feel him searching for the right moment to let us go, releasing us from his spell, the film itself an all-too-brief moment of all-too-rare grace that we too are reluctant to leave.
Sing Sing is a powerful argument for humanity in the darkest of places. It’s a testament to the power of art to transform lives, even in the most unlikely of places. Don’t miss this film.
A man standing on stage, looking out at the audience
