Sing Sing (2023) – Film Review

Director: Greg Kwedar
Cast: Colman Domingo, Clarence Maclin, Sean San Jose
Certificate: 15

By David Reid

As the title implies, Sing Sing is set within the maximum-security prison located along the Hudson River in New York State. The movie opens with a Shakespearean soliloquy delivered to the camera by one of the main characters, Divine G, played by the recently Oscar-nominated Colman Domingo. As the camera pans out, we gradually realise that this is being performed on a stage; further, the action is taking place within a prison setting. This not only establishes the opening scene but sets the tone for the entire film. In doing so, it suggests that this work may challenge some of our preconceived notions about creative arts performance in prison. An Emmy winner, if you’re unfamiliar with Colman Domingo’s previous work, mainly on stage and TV, his talent is a tantalising prospect for the future.

We soon learn that this performance is part of the Rehabilitation Through the Arts (RTA) programme at Sing Sing. It becomes clear that the RTA’s work is a fully collaborative endeavour, as these long-term prisoners strive to decide upon their next production. Divine G emerges as knowledgeable and experienced in the literary and dramatic arts, appearing to be a leading figure within the programme. Members of the group even have a say in deciding who joins.

Into this space steps Divine Eye, a difficult and troubling individual, both for other prisoners and for the regime. His introduction adds a new dynamic that the group must consider. The process is overseen by RTA director Brent Buell, played by Paul Raci, also Oscar-nominated for his memorable supporting role as Joe in Sound of Metal. Buell persuades, challenges, and cajoles this unlikely troupe towards artistic expression, using physical and mental exercises to this end. The viewer gets the impression that the desire to incorporate all ideas means the group aims for an eclectic show, covering historical millennia with a variety of themes.

“A form of escape”

As revealed from the opening scene, this is not a typical prison movie. The audience must draw conclusions from the characters’ interactions, as we are given very little information. In a typical prison drama, we expect early details about prisoners’ crimes, sentences, and backgrounds to provide context. Not so here. Nor is the relationship between prisoners and staff given significant attention. These are further indications of how this film distances itself from many of its predecessors in the genre. In turn, this draws the viewer in, helping to place the audience at the heart of the action.

Writer-director Greg Kwedar employs a subtle approach, setting very few scenes outside the rehearsal and performance space, even within the prison. The cinematography adds to the sense of realism with regular use of handheld camerawork. The film cleverly adopts a play-within-a-play conceit, reflecting a Shakespearean theme.

The RTA programme offers a form of escape for the inmates involved. Through Divine Eye’s journey—a particularly impressive film debut by Clarence Macklin, also a co-writer on the film—we gain a sense of his potential ruthlessness and his vulnerability as he moves from the simmering malevolence of the prison canteen and exercise yard, where he is at ease, to the unfamiliarity of ensemble work within the prison’s theatre group.

“Stripped down”

The inherent difficulties in producing a dramatic performance on a prison stage expose Divine Eye’s character and, by inference, highlight the potential destructiveness of toxic masculinity that keeps emotions hidden and exacerbated within such an environment. This is where Buell and Divine G encourage the actors to explore different ways of being through their performances. As the players develop, they experience a sense of escapism through artistic expression. Incidentally, the real Brent Buell is given a screenplay credit, unsurprising given the naturalistic prison dialogue throughout.

There are echoes of The Shawshank Redemption, especially in its focus on parole processes and prisoners’ yearning to walk back out through the prison gates. The film score in key scenes conveys the emotions that the characters perhaps feel unable to express openly within prison.

This is filmmaking stripped down to the bare bones—and all the better for it. Don’t miss the closing credits, which enrich the viewing experience by identifying which performers were part of the RTA programme. Clips from original footage of prison-based shows round off this heart-warming treat of a film, clearly a labour of love for all involved in showcasing the importance of this type of rehabilitative work.