When the Sing Sing correctional facility was constructed almost two centuries ago, its system of putting prisoners to work for state profit was innovative at the time. Named after a Native phrase that means “stone upon stone,” the facility fell under the turning gears of the Auburn system, created by the prison warden Elam Lynds. In his famous instruction that has echoed through the years into political chambers, recidivism rates, and the homes of missing family members, the incarcerated “must not sing, whistle, dance, run, jump, or do anything that has a tendency in the least degree to disturb the harmony.”
It tickles me to imagine that Lynds would roll in his grave if he saw prisoners eagerly performing theater in Greg Kwedar’s Sing Sing (and I wonder if it would be Chicago or I Love You Phillip Morris that would nail him further into hell’s core). Even without displaying physical or insidious brutality, the history of Sing Sing informs the atmosphere of this based-on-real-events portrayal of the incarcerated existing within — and against — a suppressive system.
It’s the storyteller’s talent to balance a subject without being heavy-handed or vague. Will the depicted happiness make it feel like a good time behind bars? Will there be a permanent cloud of sadness that’d make it harder to feel optimism? While the story falls to choices derivative of reality rather than of natural placement, Sing Sing is still a winning classic. Kwedar teams up with co-writer Clint Bentley, with whom he had previously collaborated on 2022’s Jockey, and two real alumni of the Sing Sing theatrical program — Clarence “Divine Eye” Maclin and John “Divine G” Whitfield — to create a story of authentic emotional response, importance without self-indulgence, and pure enthusiasm without falsified drama.
If it weren’t for the enigmatic Colman Domingo in the opening scene, you might have assumed that you stumbled onto a documentary. While Whitfield takes a backseat and lets Domingo take his place, Maclin and a few other actors who have formerly been incarcerated make up the cast involved with the Rehabilitation through Arts program, which supports them to organize and perform an annual play. Domingo, one of our most reliable actors whose vulnerability is perfected as a strength, carries Divine G with an air of seriousness for the arts, which comes to humorous effect when this year’s cohort decides on an original comedy about historical time-traveling. It may be an excuse for the actors to perform as cowboys, Freddy Krueger, and Hamlet on one stage, but with one sigh, Divine G brings his best foot forward into making this play as enjoyable as the script could be.
The beauty of the film is that joy thrives despite painful conversations of lost time and hypothetical freedom. Even in their endless days, the men expose their fears and vulnerability like it’s their last day. We never step outside the prison gates to know what their lives were or could have been, but there is so much exuberance in rehearsals or in group improv that it feels like we’re not missing much. Maclin plays himself, originally as Divine G’s slight thorn on the side when he challenges him for the Hamlet role, and is somewhat combative in putting his defenses down during practice. Maclin also ends up providing one of the best performances, unrivaled in the magic of devastating the audience. Another favorite will probably include Divine G’s right-hand man Mike Mike (Sean San Jose), whose inverse of comedy despite tragedy will leave a different kind of impact.
The making of the play is a rewarding adventure because it takes the time for celebrate the efforts and pitfalls of surviving, even if it’s in small details. The joy experienced while watching this film feels like it comes a good place. And believe it or not, everyone does not need to go to prison or read up to understand the basis of the prison industrial complex. Sing Sing is the movie to extract an extraordinary kind of humanity from a vulnerable population and places it on front of a camera. It’s one of the most important stories of the year.
Sing Sing
2024
dir. Greg Kwedar
105 min.
Now playing at Coolidge Corner Theatre
Read the Hassle’s interview with director Greg Kwedar here!
