Programme Notes: Sing Sing

Sincere. There are few films that fit this description; Pride (Dir. Matthew Warchus, 2014) does, as does E.T. (Dir. Steven Spielberg, 1982). In recent years, it could be attributed to Past Lives (Dir. Celine Song, 2023) and Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret (Dir. Kelly Fremon Craig, 2022). For Greg Kwedar, director of the uniquely powerful Sing Sing, empathy was a cornerstone in accomplishing what is an essential entry into the sincere film canon, as the film works to undo decades of stereotypes about Black masculinity and people who are incarcerated.

Sing Sing opens with a group of men in the throes of theatre; John ‘Divine G’ Whitfield (Oscar nominee Colman Domingo) performing a monologue from William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night's Dream. Soon after they’ve had their standing ovation, their costumes come off and they don different clothes: green prison jumpsuits. These men are incarcerated in Sing Sing prison in New York and are all taking part in a programme called Rehabilitation Through the Arts (RTA) – a programme designed to allow those people who are incarcerated to channel the pain of their lives into theatre. 

The group usually perform plays written by the falsely accused Divine G, whose cell we see has become a canvas for his literature. But the introduction of newest member Clarence ‘Divine Eye’ Maclin (played by the actual Maclin, as a fictional version of himself) disturbs the status quo. Instead of a drama like Divine G wants them to perform, they take Divine Eye’s idea of comedy and create Breakin’ The Mummy’s Code, a sprawling time-travelling romp directed for the stage by Brent Buell (Oscar nominee Paul Raci), featuring, but not limited to, Hamlet, the Wild West, Ancient Egypt and Freddy Kreuger. 

As Sing Sing ebbs and flows delicately through the making of this hybrid of pop culture stage production, a power struggle emerges. Divine G must secede control of what they perform, while Divine Eye must allow himself to be vulnerable enough to perform, so that the therapeutic benefits of theatre and art can help to heal his years of trauma. But Kwedar is doing much more in the film than solely pitting two Black men against each other; Divine G earnestly supports Divine Eye, teaching him how to shape the rhythm of his words for a soliloquy he is to perform. 

This, it turns out, is a deliberate act on Kwedar’s part as the conflict of the film comes from rote ideals of vulnerable masculinity and features no violence. Speaking to Awards Watch, Kwedar said ‘We felt like we were on this tightrope when making the film. Like if you fell on one side, you would fall back into the tropes and stereotypes that we were actively seeking to prevent. We wanted to present more dimension and complexity of the human beings that are incarcerated and the beauty still inherent within them that just needs to be reclaimed or rediscovered’. [1]

The beauty Kwedar mentions appears on screen. The cast of Sing Sing is populated by the very same men who were formerly incarcerated at Sing Sing, and are the very alums who performed Breakin’ The Mummy’s Code. Their scarred and heavily tattooed faces appear on screen in close up, the stereotype of gruff scowling prisoners on display. But what occurs is for their faces to break out into laughter, into joy. They are – instead of playing into a hostile stereotype – full of vibrancy and ecstasy at the very idea of performing, mentioning how this may be the only time they get to show emotion while confined to their cell.

For these men, the act of taking part in this was therapeutic. Kwedar says to Awards Watch that this group ‘found their freedom behind these walls, through this work. They got to revisit those experiences and the community that they found that was so vibrant despite their environment.’ Sing Sing was shot on Super 16 film, over 19 days, in a decommissioned facility – with exteriors of the actual Sing Sing facility – so the formerly incarcerated cast are returning to a metaphorical place where they once experienced trauma. The production included an on-set therapist to help these men should they experience a trigger, but most importantly these men found space to contextualise prison from a setting that was once dehumanising to them, by having freedom to explore, unshackled literally by any type of confinement.

Colman Domingo accepted the role of Divine G under equitable financial terms. This meant that everyone involved got the same base rate of pay. Speaking to critic and activist Billie Melissa for Men’s Journal, Kwedar describes his reasoning: ‘What we're saying with that is that everyone has the same intrinsic value. If time is the only variable, but the rate is the same, then we're sort of flattening a hierarchy.’ Continuing, he states ‘Most importantly, in a story where this formerly incarcerated group of men are bringing forth the depths of their own experiences, they have literal ownership over their own story.’ [2]

Domingo himself is extraordinary in Sing Sing, further solidifying himself as a contemporary master of the craft. However, it is Clarence Maclin who steals the show: a commanding performance, where he showcases phenomenal ability to portray emotion, especially when considering these emotions expressed are a reflection of his own healing journey. One can only hope that both Domingo and Maclin get their just rewards this upcoming awards season, a sentiment expressed often by those who view Sing Sing. Sound of Metal (Dir. Darius Marder, 2019) star Paul Raci is also quite brilliant as Brent Buell, who strived for authenticity in his portrayal, with the original Buell on set to instruct and guide Raci.

Kwedar and co-writer Clint Bentley adapted Sing Sing from an Esquire article from 2005 named ‘The Sing Sing Follies (A Maximum-Security Comedy)’[3] , in which journalist John H. Richardson detailed the performance and championed the work done by the RTA programme. The article is as sincere as Sing Sing is, but what stands out from this film is just how much love has been poured into this production. The janky costumes and cobbled together sets are a delight and crafted to be perfectly imperfect: just like the human beings on screen are. Sing Sing is a miracle, one that might just turn the tide on how we view people who are incarcerated, but most of all it is a sweet and invigorating picture that feels monumentally important to have in existence. 

Connor Lightbody, film critic and festival programmer

28 August 2024

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