Film Review: "Sing Sing"
The new film, starring Colman Domingo and Clarence Maclin, is a wrenching, beautiful, joyous film about art and the enduring power of hope.
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If you know anything about me, you’ll know that I love a film that moves me to tears. Normally these tend to be romances–I’m a big ole softie when it comes to love stories–but every so often a different kind of film comes along and it pierces me right in my heart, leaving me an emotional wreck.
Sing Sing is one such film.
Based on the real-life Rehabilitation Through the Arts program–and starring many members of said program–the film largely focuses on two characters: Colman Domingo’s John “Divine G” Whitfield and Clarence “Divine Eye” Maclin. The two have a quasi-confrontational and competitive relationship, particularly once the latter snags the role of Hamlet in the play they are preparing to put on, but they eventually forge the type of tight bond that is typical of prison films like this one.
Colman Domingo brings an intense, electrifying energy to his role of Whitfield, a man convicted of murder who has nevertheless found his calling as a man of the theater. Even though he has every reason to have lost faith in himself and in the system which keeps him incarcerated, he clings to both, investing time and energy to both writing and acting in the various plays that they put on. He takes everything in stride, and he never loses sight of his goal of getting there as quickly as he can but, like so many others, he far too often finds his drive and determination running headfirst into obstacles, whether it be the nature of the criminal justice system itself or Maclin.
It’s really quite remarkable the sparks that Domingo’s Whitfield and Maclin manage to spark off against one another. These two men are so different in so many ways–with Whitfield imagining himself as something of an intellectual artist and Maclin more of a typical tough guy–but somehow they complement one another remarkably well. Maclin in particular proves that there is far more to him than meets the eye, and he clearly channels much of his own personal experience into the role (Maclin was himself a participant in RTA). He might be prone to violence at times, but Maclin really does have the soul of a poet and, together, he makes true movie magic with Domingo.
However, Sing Sing never lets us forget that prison, at its root, is a fundamentally dehumanizing experience, one that strips away everything about a person until they are nothing more than a cog in a dreadful machine. These men are repeatedly subjected to impromptu searches and dismissal and, just as importantly, death lurks around every corner, whether through natural causes or violence. It’s precisely because their time in prison has been so damaging to their psyches and their sense of humanity that the men all turn toward the theater program to find their lost sense of humanity. The film’s most moving scenes are those in which the various characters–whether Whitfield himself or others–speak openly about why they joined this group and why it has proven so salvific for them, allowing them to regain something that they thought they’d lost.
And yet, in Divine G’s case, his love of the theater and all that it entails–the writing, the camaraderie and, of course, the acting itself–ends up being a bit of a double-edged sword when the chair of his clemency hearing uses his experience against him, asking him if he is acting at that moment. Though she quickly brushes past this, it’s hard not to shake the feeling that she has trapped him, and Domingo manages to convey Whitfield’s sadness and despair that the hearing has so quickly slipped out of his control. When he is subsequently denied clemency he begins to spiral, losing faith in RTA and everything else, his belief that the system could be used against itself thwarted. There’s also a dreadful irony to the fact that Maclin manages to get out while his friend does not, both because he had almost given up hope that he would ever do so and because Whitfield helped him get his materials in good order.
Yet this isn’t the type of film that lets either us or the characters give in to despair. Whitfield ultimately returns to the RTA fold, the production of (the very zany and odd play) goes forward, eventually becoming a success. The film ends with Whitfield finally getting his freedom and being picked up by Maclin who has, against all of the odds stacked against him, managed to build a new life for himself. Their reunion is one of those moments in the film that is like a punch right into the feels, and watching Whitfield break down in tears as he finally attains his freedom and reunites with his friend of so many years is a mixture of joy, sadness, and euphoria.
In a less competent film than Sing Sing, all of this would end up feeling trite and cute or even, worst of all, mawkish. Thanks to Greg Kwedar’s subtle yet firm direction–as well as the script, which he co-wrote with Clint Bentley–this ends up being one of those films that is beautiful and haunting and, quite frankly, devastating, because it all feels so raw and honest and real and authentic. It’s the type of film that slowly but confidently weaves you into this world and its characters and, as one might guess from the subject, also shows us the truly revolutionary power of art.
At the end of the day, this is one of those films that is, quite simply, about the beauty and triumph and power of the human spirit. When the film ended, the few other people sitting in the theater with my friend and myself were totally silent, as if we were trying to grapple with the pain and the joy that we’d just seen. There was so much to love about it, from the rather absurd nature of the play that the inmates put on–which includes elements of ancient Egypt, Hamlet, and gladiators–to the supporting performances from actual RTA members (as well as Paul Raci, who plays Brent Buell, the director of RTA) that you can’t help but love every minute. This is the type of movie that breaks your heart and puts it back together again. It is truly a gift.