Sing Sing (2023)

Sing Sing is a prison drama that shines a spotlight on the transformative power of art behind bars. Set in the infamous Sing Sing Correctional Facility, the film follows Divine G (Colman Domingo), an inmate wrongfully convicted, who finds purpose through a theatre program. As he and his fellow prisoners work to stage an original production, they grapple with personal demons, institutional challenges, and the hope of redemption.

Greg Kwedar’s sophomore feature presents a combination of genuine emotion and insight, as well as stretches that may come across as overly literal. The film’s greatest strength lies in its cast, particularly Domingo, who brings a raw intensity to Divine G. His performance is a masterclass in nuance, conveying both vulnerability and strength as his character navigates the complexities of prison life and artistic expression.

The supporting cast, largely comprised of former Sing Sing inmates, lends an air of authenticity that’s hard to fake. Clarence “Divine Eye” Macklin, in particular, stands out as a gruff inmate whose journey from sceptic to believer forms the emotional core of the film. Their real-life experiences infuse the performances with a gritty realism that elevates the material.

Kwedar’s direction is competent, if not particularly innovative. He wisely lets the actors’ performances take centre stage, though at times the pacing drags, especially in the middle act. The film’s structure, which follows the inmates’ journey from auditions to performance, feels a bit formulaic, hitting predictable beats along the way.

Sing Sing excels in its examination of art as a tool for rehabilitation. The scenes of the inmates working on their production, titled Breakin’ the Mummy’s Code, are among the film’s most compelling. They showcase the power of creativity to foster empathy, self-reflection, and personal growth, even in the most unlikely of settings.

Cinematographer Pat Scola deserves kudos for his work here. Shot on 16mm film, the visuals have a grainy, textured quality that enhances the film’s raw emotional tone. Close-ups are used effectively to capture the nuances of the actors’ expressions, while wider shots of the prison underscore the oppressive environment from which the inmates seek escape through their art.

The film’s treatment of the prison system is nuanced, avoiding both glorification and excessive demonisation. It acknowledges the harsh realities of incarceration while also highlighting the potential for positive change within the system.

That said, Sing Sing occasionally stumbles into cliché territory, particularly in its portrayal of the prison staff and some of the more dramatic confrontations between inmates. These moments feel less authentic and detract from the overall impact of the story.

The film’s pacing is uneven, with some scenes dragging on longer than necessary. A tighter edit could have helped maintain momentum and heighten the emotional impact of key moments.

Despite its flaws, Sing Sing manages to be a moving tribute to the power of art and human resilience. It’s not a perfect film, but it’s one that will likely stick with you. If you’re in the mood for a thoughtful drama that offers a unique perspective on incarceration and rehabilitation, it’s worth a watch. Just don’t expect a groundbreaking cinematic experience.