Shocking Inside Look: ‘Sing Sing’ Unleashes Power of Imagination & Dignity Behind Bars!

“Sing Sing” is a film that stands out for its extraordinary empathy and a deep-seated sense of humanity. It is a product of painstaking attention to detail and a heartfelt creative process.

The creation of this quietly impressive film is a story in itself, intricately woven into the narrative that appears on screen. “Sing Sing” is the fruit of years of research and voluntary work by writer-director Greg Kwedar and his co-writer, Clint Bentley, in collaboration with Rehabilitation Through the Arts, a theater program for men detained at the Sing Sing Correctional Facility. Initially, Kwedar and Bentley attempted to create a scripted film about RTA using professional actors, but they couldn’t recreate the magic they witnessed firsthand in the prison. Therefore, they decided to bring the authentic atmosphere to the screen, casting RTA alumni alongside renowned actors like Colman Domingo and Paul Raci.

In “Sing Sing”, the supporting actors are playing themselves, delivering powerful performances. Domingo portrays John “Divine G” Whitfield, a man imprisoned at Sing Sing who becomes a playwright and actor through RTA. Raci, known for his warmth in “Sound of Metal”, plays RTA teacher Brent Buell, while Sean San Jose, a longtime collaborator of Domingo, plays Mike Mike, a close friend of Divine G. However, the standout performance in “Sing Sing” is by Clarence “Divine Eye” Maclin, who plays himself – a man hardened by his past but finding grace and tenderness in theater.

The plot revolves around the production of RTA’s first original play, a comedy about time travel spanning from ancient Egypt to gladiatorial arenas to the Old West, with Freddy Krueger making an appearance. Yet, the film transcends the men putting on a show. It highlights the hope, heartbreak, personal growth, and triumph these men experience together on stage, reminding us that life continues even within prison walls.

Kwedar’s filmmaking approach is marked by remarkable patience, both in form and storytelling. Cinematographer Pat Scola uses a 16 mm film stock that demands the same care and thoughtfulness that the story requires. The visuals are rich, with a warm palette of earthy golds and greens reflecting both the natural and institutional environments.

“Sing Sing” utilizes a visual motif of slow zooms to position the characters in their spaces and draw attention to their interactions, while constantly reminding us of their prison setting. In the theater room, where the men interact and participate in improvisation games, the camera is at eye level, inviting the audience to join in.

Kwedar and Bentley’s screenplay is skillful and subtle, with personal backstories unfolding naturally in conversations. They also make a powerful decision to avoid melodrama and the typical violence associated with “prison movies”. Despite the losses, grief, and disappointments, this film does not sensationalize prison life. Instead, it humbly depicts the ongoing tragedies and triumphs in the lives of the incarcerated: the loss of loved ones, seemingly insurmountable challenges, hard-earned accomplishments, and unexpected joys.

“Sing Sing” is a compelling testament to the humanity that persists in an environment designed to dehumanize. RTA serves as a sanctuary in an institution dominated by daily humiliations and constant reminders that their time and lives aren’t their own, with room searches, verbal abuse, and parole hearings shaping their reality.

Domingo, known for his roles in “Rustin,” “The Color Purple,” and “Zola,” is a versatile actor who excels at portraying quietly dignified and hope-filled characters. He is the heart of “Sing Sing,” but he allows his castmates to shine brighter and take the spotlight during their pivotal moments. San Jose delivers a monologue that could be one of the most heart-rendering of the year. Yet, it’s Maclin who steals the show with his portrayal of his personal journey as a tough man who gradually lets his guard down and allows himself to embrace love and light.

Although Kwedar’s conclusion might appear a bit cluttered with multiple climaxes, it’s a minor flaw. It’s as if he’s searching for the right moment to release us, the film itself a fleeting moment of grace that you’d be hesitant to part with.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.