One of my favourite bits of The Shawshank Redemption is when Andy (Tim Robbins) pushes and eventually succeeds in revitalizing the library at his prison. It is one of several acts designed to make life behind bars for him and all the other inmates a little less miserable -give them something to engage with and be inspired by, allow their lives to feel a tiny bit more normal, more free. It’s always stuck out to me as a gesture of sympathy and faith with the incarcerated -too often victims of a system that cares more about punishment than rehabilitation. Prisoners need outlets of expression and hope -the signature word of that movie that has done more to champion prison reform than any other.
A particularly successful program along these same convictions and noble goals is Rehabilitation Through the Arts (RTA) at the Sing Sing Correctional Facility in New York. It is the subject and literal success story of Greg Kwedar’s movie Sing Sing -which goes a step further than merely paying tribute by actually demonstrating before your eyes the effectiveness of its program. It is a movie full of good, endearing, impassioned performances, but only two of its actors -Colman Domingo and Paul Raci- are professionally trained. The rest of the ensemble, either playing themselves or characters, are ex-con veterans of that program. And they are the luminous heart of a genuinely inspiring movie.
While Sing Sing paints its picture out of a series of real events and uses these real people who partook in them, it is not a biographical film in the strict sense of the term -as Kwedar and co-writer Clint Bentley build an original narrative while weaving in these authentic details. It centres on John “Divine G” Whitfield, played by Domingo -a former drug dealer who has been in Sing Sing for nearly a decade for a murder he didn’t commit. As he has worked to build a clemency case he has been deeply involved in the RTA, often writing and acting in plays the company performs -he deeply believes in its value and is its most impassioned advocate, even as it prepares to stage a ridiculous time travel comedy play that involves aspects of all the genres that its participants want to perform.
Breakin’ the Mummy’s Code, written by the program’s director Brent (Raci) is an eccentric play that involves Roman gladiators and ancient Egypt, and against the odds, Shakespeare’s Hamlet, played by the most unlikely candidate and to Divine G’s chagrin, the standoffish newcomer to the program Clarence “Divine Eye” Maclin. While there is certainly some stereotype to the way this character’s arc plays out, Maclin and his strong sense of pathos is the clear breakout star of the film, and a great counterpoint to Domingo’s equally excellent passion and eloquence. There are some parallels between Sing Sing and Shawshank, but most notably is this pairing of a falsely imprisoned inmate surviving on sheer hope and optimism with a more cynical “institutionalized” inmate who struggles to see that point of view. Kwedar certainly seems to respect Shawshank, but he challenges its thesis a little, or at least draws it as more complicated, through a curious evolution in Divine G and Divine Eye’s attitudes. For all the spirit, erudite hopefulness, and artistic enthusiasm that Divine G tries to project (in a very Andy Dufresne kind of way), he is capable of being emotionally crushed by the system. And Domingo plays him as someone a bit naive to his own psychological fallibility, his own understanding of the carceral state, and even his own ego -he doesn’t really believe he’s going to be in Sing Sing as long as his fellow inmates. At the same time, Maclin plays with inspired clarity the spiritual enlightenment of his semi-fictitious self, the transformation from jailyard heavy, pressuring other convicts into illicit deals, to the kind of wise brother-figure Divine G sees himself as.
The effectiveness of this comes out of Maclin’s potent authenticity, which he shares with a lot of the cast -each of whom shine radiantly in this tender showcase of the passion that made bearable their life behind bars. Kwedar is generous in highlighting their personalities and enthusiasm; documentary-like, he shoots their auditions largely in close-up and then later in community pans to each in turn boisterously announcing their parts for the show. These techniques are replicated also in the exercises Brent has them partake in, everything from the routine drama class circle game to get a sense of body language, to meditative sessions that draw on memory and feeling for performance. And they are small things, not particularly revelatory -yet in them we glimpse the effects of these methods on the attitudes and mental health of the participants. It helps of course that so many of them are channelling their real feelings about an ethos that proved hugely beneficial to them.
One may think it’s easy to act as oneself in a movie like this, and it really isn’t -especially for these actors who have to draw upon some trauma from their time in prison and re-live it for the camera. But each of them brings out an immense earnestness to their personalities and how they’ve been moved by performance -and especially with the spotlight Kwedar grants them. Chief among them is Sean San José as Mike Mike, Divine G’s best friend and the most animated of the troupe’s players. His energy is a delight, its undercurrent of sadness one of the movie's most effective beats of pathos. But everybody else has immediate screen presence as well. Sean Dino Johnson, Mosi Eagle, David Giraudy -each allowed by the script to fashion a charming identity for themselves (especially in what part they choose to play and how they play it), and all deliver in moments highlighting their conviction and heart. Likewise good purveyors of their stories and respectable actors in their own right; and the sense of community that they embody is beautiful, Kwedar knowing how to step back and let it blossom.
There is an integrity of vision to how Kwedar relates these people, how he takes on this story and atmosphere that bypasses the clichés and mundaneness of what the plot presents on its own. There are very few surprises to this narrative, it tracks in the predictable harmless fashion for this kind of an inspirational feature. But it has an authenticity of purpose and presentation, fictionalizes just enough to be free, and permits its characters (who are not) to largely speak for themselves and advocate on the film's behalf for the power of the artistic process. Sing Sing is not even really about the RTA specifically as much as the philosophy behind it. That 'the arts' are a rejuvenating, affirming, transformative force unlike anything else. Divine G teaches that to Divine Eye, who in turn re-teaches it to Divine G when he most needs to know it. And as the audience, we do too. As the movie lives up to those virtues, it is a glorious thing to behold.
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