Sing Sing (3 ½ stars out of 4)
Where most classic prison movies like “The Shawshank Redemption” and “Cool Hand Luke” are focused on a character getting out, “Sing Sing” seems more interested in making the best of things while still behind bars.
Inspired by true events, Greg Kwedar’s film follows an inmate theater group that stages a comedy for their fellow prisoners. The story centers on Divine G (Colman Domingo), an inmate wrongly convicted of murder, who has found identity and solace through a series of in-big house theater productions at New York’s infamous Sing Sing maximum security prison.
After ten years, Divine G is still hoping for exoneration, but in the meantime he has found a small sense of freedom writing, producing, and starring in the group’s regular productions, which take on material as challenging as Shakespeare.
The story kicks into gear when Divine G’s relative comfort zone is violated by a new troupe member (Clarence Maclin), who feels distant and threatening even among fellow inmates. But it’s his suggestion that the group try a comedy for their next production that truly challenges Divine G’s boundaries.
“Sing Sing” uses the ensuing production as a framework to explore themes and subjects that are common to the genre, and sure enough, Divine G’s efforts to secure release play a big role in that cast. But ultimately the film focuses on Divine G’s dealings with the new troupe member, and what that adversarial relationship brings out of both men.
Domingo’s performance as Divine G is resonant and authoritative, and reinforces why the actor recently got an Oscar nomination for his work in “Rustin” last year. But Maclin may be even more effective, thanks to a surprising character arc that embraces the aspirations of the justice system. Often it’s easy to dismiss an antagonist in a film as little more than an object for our sense of justice, and it’s poignant to see Maclin’s character evolve into someone more deserving of mercy than we might suspect.
The themes and narrative are supported by a setting and directing style that gives “Sing Sing” a distinct, almost casual sense of realism. Kwedar presents this world in a scoreless, nonchalant, matter-of-fact style that almost makes the film feel like a documentary. Sing Sing isn’t dramatized or forlorn; it just exists. And because of this, it feels sincere.
For a prison film, “Sing Sing” creates this sincere world in subtle fashion. Rather than use heavy-handed violence or more obvious tropes like interactions with corrupt guards to create the environment, Kwedar manages to make Sing Sing threatening without feeling like he’s putting on a production. We don’t see inmates getting shiv’ed, but when Divine G accuses Maclin’s character of carrying a knife in his waistband, we still feel tension.
Altogether, though “Sing Sing” is too low-key a movie to attain commercial status next to its aforementioned peers, Kwedar’s film is a unique and worthy comment on human nature and hope. It’s the kind of movie you’ll probably only want to watch once, but you should definitely take advantage of that opportunity.
“Sing Sing” is rated R for scattered profanity.