SING SING - Mark Reviews Movies

Sing Sing, A24

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Review by Mark Dujsik | August 1, 2024

There is some human drive for creativity that sustains itself in almost any situation and under almost any circumstances. As a case in point, Sing Sing dramatizes the story of a real program that has existed in the eponymous maximum-security prison since 1996. It's called Rehabilitation Through the Arts (RTA), and it encourages artistic endeavors among those incarcerated at Sing Sing (as well as several other prisons in New York following its success there). If the characters in co-writer/director Greg Kwedar's film are to be believed, they don't need much encouragement.

We do believe this film, though, because its cast is populated by some professional actors, including Colman Domingo and Paul Raci, and former inmates of Sing Sing who are veterans of the RTA program. Most, if not all, of them, such as Clarence "Divine Eye" Maclin, play versions of themselves in this story, which follows the process of bringing the troupe's first comedy to the old chapel that serves as the prison's theater. Material like this might be better suited for a documentary, but given the obvious difficulties and various concerns of such an endeavor, the authenticity inherent in Kwedar's approach will have to do.

It does quite well, in fact, because this film focuses so much on the challenges of bringing an amateur production, with a surprising degree of ambition, to the stage that we sometimes might forget these characters are inmates, living through the day-to-day grind and routine and fear of prison. At its core, art communicates something of the human condition, and in paying such close attention to the process of creating art here, the film cuts through most of the clichés and familiar elements of a prison drama to find this specific quality of humanity in its characters.

At the center of Kwedar and Clint Bentley's screenplay (based on an article by John H. Richardson) is Domingo's John "Divine G" Whitfield (The man the actor is playing, by the way, has a story credit, along with Maclin). He's an inmate, incarcerated for a crime that goes unmentioned for a long time here, because it's inessential to the crux of this tale. If there's a minor flaw in the film's thinking, it's in bringing up such matters at all or only raising the discussion when it comes to characters who likely were wrongly imprisoned. It's as if the filmmakers believe an audience might only find sympathy with these characters if they're innocent or if their crimes remain a secret. This is such a long-standing assumption and bias, though, that's only worth a minor mention.

More importantly for John, he's the de facto leader of Sing Sing's drama company, admired and respected by the other members of the troupe for his talent on stage, his leadership behind the scenes, and his level of fame as a writer. After staging Shakespeare, the group wants to change things up a bit, so when theater director and playwright Brent Buell (Raci) arrives to steer the troupe's next production, they insist upon an original comedy featuring time travel, despite John's polite protests.

Most of the story follows that process, from auditions through the final dress rehearsal. Along the way, we watch some of the actors struggle with the material and their confidence, the challenges of working with a limited budget and makeshift resources, and how some of the conflicts between cast members—based on some jealousy on John's part (He assumes he'll play Hamlet, considering his bona fides, but doesn't get the role) and a lot of intrinsic skepticism on the part of Maclin's Clarence, a newcomer to the group—evolve into or reveal bonds that transcend the production and prison life. One of the key relationships exists between John and Mike Mike (Sean San José), both of whom have been part of the RTA for about the same amount of time and who have solitary cells next to each other.

The other is between John, who has helped his fellow prisoners work on official hearings for parole or clemency as he works on his own, and Clarence, who could have a case to put in front of the prison board but worries more about the uncertainty of a life on the outside than the set dread of prison life. The way that relationship develops brings the material closer to a familiar prison story than anything else in the film, but the way these characters and actors spar and gradually find a mutual understanding of each other is the real heart of that storyline.

Mostly, the film simply lives with these characters, away from the mundane daily schedules of the prison, as they talk shop, perform acting exercises that Brent uses as way for them to get in touch with their emotions, and share stories and dreams that help them mentally escape from the reality of their surroundings. There's an intriguing disconnect throughout the film in that last regard, as the group often seems to exist in a state of relative normalcy—discussing acting and the script in nondescript or specific spaces that could be anywhere. Then, Kwedar will shatter that illusion with shots of inmates in line heading to their cellblocks, gathered in the dining area, or in the yard.

The reminders that "normal" life has stopped for these characters come with some degree of surprise here, because the theater troupe's lives, goals, and activities seem so separate from—so relatively ordinary compared to—everything else around them. Art can exist and thrive almost anywhere, but Sing Sing is more about the flip side of that sentiment. It tells a unique and specific story of people driven to create in order to understand themselves and each other, yes, but, more importantly, to be reminded of their humanity in a place and within a system that denies it.

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