Sing Sing - Movie Review

Critics Score - 7 of 10

General Audience Score - 7 of 10

Full disclosure, I’ve never been incarcerated, nor do I have anybody close to me that is or has been. The closest thing that I’ve known to prison is when I watch films like The Shawshank Redemption or Great Freedom. I can only try to get in the headspace of someone going through that kind of extremely difficult situation. Well, the new A24 film Sing Sing tells the tale of a group of inmates, almost all of whom play themselves in the film. We watch the theatre group as they brainstorm, prepare for and rehearse a production put on by the Sing Sing correctional facility located in New York. This is a touching story of about ten men who develop a comradery as they go about this project, but it also highlights some flaws of the system that’s designed to keep them behind bars. While this was a beautiful and interesting piece of cinema, it didn’t really make a strong emotional impact on me, which it could’ve had if it had leaned into the melodrama of this situation. But as it was, it was a fine film that neither left me disappointed, nor blew me away by the finale. Coleman Domingo leads the cast of inmates turned actors and, is once again after Rustin last year, putting in an exceptional piece of work. As far as my disclaimer above, there are many who will appreciate the film and it will resonate much deeper with than I. I enjoyed Sing Sing as a very nice film, but unfortunately I won’t be singing it's praises that loudly.

SYNOPSIS - As we begin this film about a theatre production, it starts in the most ideal location, on a stage. We catch blurry glimpses of blue and white movement and we start hearing the voice of John “Divine G” Whitfield (Coleman Domingo), who was actually an innocent incarcerated convict. He keeps speaking as blue and white streamers, as well some butterflies on strings floating over the stage, come into sharper focus. As the camera crawls up behind him, we see only the upper half of his back as he speaks his lines, the spotlight located on the opposite side of his body from us which shrouds his silhouette in a blue hue. The camera switches to show just his face as he concludes his monologue and the light cuts off. We hear the clapping commence and watch as the costumed actors take a bow for their performances. Traveling backstage after the show, they surrender their production attire for the drab navy blue prison uniforms we see them wearing through the duration of the film’s runtime. Once appropriately dressed they get back into lines and we watch them filing down strains, through barred doorways and past windows with guards behind them, momentary glimpses of the life of an inmate. One of the guards walks slowly past the line of prisoners, passing John by on his right side, one of the men making an indistinguishable comment causing the guard to ask the lined up men, “Who the f*** said that?”. Then he forcibly pushes a man up against the wall, John continues facing the other direction, his glasses reflecting in the light from the nearby windows, but the gold rims also setting him apart amongst his uniform wearing comrades. This accessory combined with his manner of speaking give John a sort of high society vibe that makes him feel very out of place, as we observe him going about his day in his jail cell.

It isn’t explicitly stated at any point, but we’ve entered the walls of the Sing Sing correctional facility, located right along the Hudson River in New York, about an hour drive north of Times Square. The walls of John’s accommodations are adorned with various family pictures as well as letters that he’s received, we observe him as he’s sitting as a desk of sorts in his small room, typing on a typewriter. The film provides us more glimpses of the routine, men walking down stairs outside. John walks through a grassy area, scattering seeds, but within a few moments a siren begins blaring and he, along with the rest of the men in the prison yard, fall face down with their arms spread out on the ground. Soon John and a few of the instrumental members of the theatre program including Sean Johnson and Sean San Jose sit down for a chat about their next production. They speak about the waiting list of men wanting to be a part of the next play and the qualifications of the candidates. The name of a Clarence “Divine Eye” Maclin is mentioned and despite some initial trepidation expressed by a couple of the members, John would like to give him a chance to interview. John and Sean go to speak with him about the position and they witness an interaction between Divine Eye and another inmate. Divine Eye threatens the man to get him some money, apparently for some drugs that he was given, “Get my f***ing money. You hear what I said? Or I’m going to tear your f***ing face off.” Clearly he’s a little bit of a rougher character than the theatre team is used to working with. But as they gather the actors and hold meetings with the director played by Paul Raci, the men begin to learn about each other and a real sense of comradery begins to develop between them. The time traveling comedy they decide to produce isn’t nearly as touching and sentimental as the film we’re watching that builds up to a heartwarming conclusion that won’t leave many dry eyes in the house.

For starters, as I’ve already expressed, this is a wonderful story directed by Greg Kwedar, the writer of the severely underseen film Jockey from a couple years ago. Although Kwedar expertly directs the material of the story of the innocent man John “Divine G” and we’re emotionally pulled into his plight and that of all the prisoners, I kept thinking about the side of this story that isn’t told. Not to be the Debbie Downer here unnecessarily, but it felt like something was missing, as we begin to invest feelings into all these people, these actors that are actually playing themselves. When the credits finally roll we see that Coleman Domingo and Paul Raci are virtually the only ones playing other people. As sad as it was to think about their lives and the sad situation they’re in, I also couldn’t help to wonder about all the crimes, drugs, and possibly even families that were deprived of loved ones because of some of these men. I mean, this is a maximum security prison. As beautiful, heartwarming and touching of a tale as Sing, Sing is, I know there’s another untold story here that involves a lot of sadness, anger and grief because of some of these men, despite their reform and regret over past actions. That may have also been one of the contributing factors that kept me at arms length with the film. But Coleman Domingo is certainly excellent, his presence and performance of an innocent incarcerated man is very powerful work, although I hesitate to think he’s a shoe-in for another Oscar nomination after Rustin last year. The film is also fairly simple, yet well crafted on a technical level. Some of the camera work giving us close up shots of these tormented men, but also well composed shots of the penitentiary facility and it’s surroundings. The score by Bryce Dressner is also very well done, it’s light and melodic tracks fitting in well to match the film aesthetically and tonally. As much as there is to love about this movie, I didn’t fall in love with it as much as I’d hoped I would considering it comes from A24, my favorite studio. I’ve heard Oscar pundits talking about how this film is positioned to get a Best Picture nomination at the Oscars this awards season, but now that I’ve seen the film, here in late August, I’d bet more than a handful of dollars this film doesn’t come close to touching that coveted lineup this season.

SUMMARY - I would advise any readers to not be discouraged from off watching this film just because I wasn’t over the moon for it. Sure I’m not the films biggest fan, but that doesn’t mean that everyone will experience the same level of detachment from connecting emotionally to this story. It’s still a beautifully sentimental and moving story that some will definitely find more relatable, watching these men behind the walls of Sing Sing.