Movies
‘Barbie’ doesn’t care about your agenda
New film a ‘truth bomb’ delivered via candy-colored Trojan Horse
When you’re a Barbie, every day is perfect. You get to do whatever you want and be anything you want to be, whether it’s fashion model Barbie or President Barbie, and that’s just the way things naturally are.
When you’re not a Barbie, however, it might look more than a little bit like Barbie privilege.
This is, of course, a perspective flip undertaken by filmmaker Greta Gerwig in her latest film, which brings the doll of its eponymous title into the “real world” to look for answers after she experiences an unexpected existential crisis, in an endeavor to turn it into something deeper than a flashy, over-hyped toy commercial masquerading as a big screen blockbuster. It’s not the only one, but it’s the most obvious, and it has most of the movie’s inexplicably vehement detractors feigning outrage over what they deem as “woke” propaganda.
It’s certainly true that “Barbie” is loaded with the kind of messaging that conservatives deplore. In the screenplay co-authored by Gerwig with partner Noah Baumbach, Barbieland exists through the imagination of all the children who play with her; every Barbie (and Ken) lives there, but the plot focuses on their “stereotypical” iterations (Margot Robbie and Ryan Gosling), who are forced to confront the differences between the idealized utopia in which they live and the still-far-from-perfect reality inhabited by their human counterparts. Barbie, crestfallen, just wants to go home – but Ken, after seeing a world where the men seem to be in charge, is inspired with a different notion.
That premise, needless to say, gives Gerwig’s movie plenty of fodder for cultural commentary, and it holds nothing back as it goes after all the usual targets with palpable glee, so it’s no surprise a segment of the population would get their feathers ruffled over it.
What’s less predictable, perhaps, is the level of animosity aimed at the film from quarters one might expect to embrace it. This might be a function of Barbie’s “problematic” image, which has been tarnished by decades of criticism from those who (not wrongly) have called out the iconic doll – and the company that sells it – for promoting an idealized, male-defined image of femininity and undermining its purported message of female empowerment by simultaneously creating an unrealistic body image for women; let’s face it, there are people who just don’t like Barbie, for these reasons and more, and never will.
Since the film clearly addresses these controversies, however, and attempts to move past them toward a more evolved manifestation of the character, one might be tempted to suspect there’s more behind the aversion for the very idea of this movie that compels so many people to belittle it, unprompted, on their social media feeds; and since – despite dismissive declarations of shallowness that have been levied against it, sight unseen, from the moment it was announced – “Barbie” goes much deeper than the predictably divisive political constructs of the so-called “culture wars” in its ambitious effort to be more than we expect it to be, we might be able to look further into those depths for more insightful reasons.
For starters, the path the movie takes to resolve its plot leads through many ideas that, for the more jaded among us, can easily seem like lip service. The idea that empathy, that seeing what it’s like to walk in someone else’s shoes, can fix all the problems of the world is so familiar that it can be reduced to a platitude; it’s a nice sentiment, but only the most romantic of optimists can be convinced of its believability, and perhaps of its sincerity, too. With that in mind, it’s easy to appreciate why so many people might be predisposed to resist its warm-and-cozy appeal.
Then there’s the well-publicized barrage of cinematic references – influences to which Gerwig has given a dizzyingly exhaustive array of shameless nods in her treatment of “Barbie” – that pop up as “Easter Eggs” from the movie’s very first sequence and continue without pause for pretty much its entire runtime. From “2001: A Space Odyssey” to “Blade Runner,” from “The Wizard of Oz” to “The Umbrellas of Cherbourg,” she lovingly crafts her visuals to evoke connections to myriad classics that have shaped her self-evidently masterful understanding of cinema – but while those might be fun for movie buffs with a penchant for trivia, they don’t do much for the average viewer who has likely never seen anything directed by Jacques Demy, let alone have knowledge about his use of color in crafting the “look” of a film. In fact, knowing that such elements are there could even feel like exclusionary intellectual snobbery.
Still, after experiencing the film firsthand, such reasons feel like excuses to us, rationalizations to justify a dislike that stems from something more personal – and perhaps, more uncomfortable – than the rhetorical stances that often dominate the analysis and judgment of film or any other art form. Though it makes no apologies for its espousal of feminist ideals or any of the other core “liberal” principles it embraces, it nevertheless dares to suggest that the problems of the world can’t be solved by merely upending the status quo. There may be quite a few amusing jokes about “The Patriarchy” involved, but by the time it’s over, “Barbie” posits that tearing it down isn’t really the solution so many of us imagine it to be – and that’s a frightening concept for anyone who is invested in the idea that it is.
There are many standout moments in “Barbie” – and yes, you can take that as an unequivocal recommendation of the film, which to us feels like a disruptive “truth bomb” delivered via a candy-colored Trojan Horse into the heart of contemporary culture and features superb and layered performances, not only from its two oft-maligned leading players but from a host of supporting cast members like Kate McKinnon and America Ferrera (who deserves to be a front-runner in next year’s Oscar race on the strength of one show-stopping monologue alone) as well – but two of these capture its essence. The first is a “Forrest Gump”-ish exchange between Barbie and an elderly woman on a park bench, which consists of only six words; the studio, reportedly, wanted it cut, but Gerwig – who insisted on complete creative control before accepting the job – declined to concede. It’s a transcendent touch, and its power lies beyond words, so we’ll just leave it at that.
The second comes later, when Barbie confides to a mysterious woman (Rhea Perlman) she encounters by seeming chance that “The real world isn’t what I thought it was” – to which she receives the reply, “It never is.”
If “Barbie” can be said to have a moral, that’s probably it – and it’s one that has shaken humanity to its core for centuries.
Is it any wonder that so many human beings, believing themselves to be secure in their unquestioned and pre-programmed personal illusions, don’t want to hear that message?
But what do we know? Taste, like life itself, is a subjective experience, and the only opinion that ever matters – at least for you – is your own.
It might be too soon to get excited about the movies we know are coming later in the year – like the first installment of the big-screen adaptation of “Wicked” or Pedro Almodóvar’s first English language movie “The Room Next Door” – but that doesn’t mean there’s still not plenty to look forward to as their time draws nearer. As always, we’ve compiled a preview of the most interesting LGBTQ and related content coming to movie and TV screens over the weeks ahead, so get ready to plan out your own watchlist as you keep reading below.
“The English Teacher” (Hulu, now streaming): In its publicity blurb, we’re told that educators being forced to navigate “a lot of bullshit” as a result of the ongoing culture wars is a theme that runs “subtly” through this new workplace comedy created by and starring Brian Jordan Alvarez, which is putting it mildly to say the least. Centering on an Austin high school teacher who comes under fire after a student sees him making out with his boyfriend at school, it’s a giddily up-front social satire that skewers not only the hypersensitivity of our current era but the counter-productive absurdity of an education system more concerned with placating political pressures than passing on knowledge; it’s already emerged as a critical darling among the new shows of the Fall Season – which is great news for Alvarez, a talented performer (best known as Jack’s husband-to-be in the rebooted “Will and Grace” and his viral video content on Instagram and TikTok) overdue for the mainstream spotlight.
“Lover Of Men: The Untold Story of Abraham Lincoln” (theaters, now playing; streaming/VOD, TBA this fall): Earnest, passionate, yet delivered with a light touch, this sure-to-be-controversial new doc addresses the much-speculated question of our iconic 16th president’s sexuality with a trove of well-documented evidence, presented by a host of respected historians and bolstered by amusingly modernistic re-enactments of the Great Emancipator’s supposed intimate liaisons with various men during key parts of his life. More than that, it ties its narrative to the way America’s attitudes and acceptance of LGBTQ people has evolved into contemporary times while also discrediting many modern assumptions about the ways the community has been treated in the past. It may not convince the die-hard doubters, but this polished and politically hopeful effort from filmmaker Shaun Peterson is as hard to dismiss as it is entertaining, and it definitely belongs on your watch list.
“Seeking Mavis Beacon” (theaters, Sept. 13): After a limited release on Sept. 6, this documentary expands nationwide this week with a “DIY detective story” about the search for the unknown and un-credited real-life model whose image was used as the face of “Mavis Beacon Teaches Typing” – a widely used instructional computer typing program launched in 1987 – that serves as a launch pad to explore a whole spectrum of sociological and philosophical nuances related to race, ethical marketing, and the impact of technology on culture and communication. With two queer women of color – director Jazmin Jones and associate producer Olivia McKayla Ross – leading the onscreen investigation, it’s an unusual and thought-provoking think piece that is as entertaining as it is enlightening.
“The Critic” (theaters, Sept. 13): Venerated queer elder and acting legend Ian McKellen returns to the screen in this deliciously dark tale of period intrigue from director Anand Tucker and writer Patrick Marber, in which a notoriously poison-penned theater critic (McKellen) in 1934 London attempts to preserve his career by manipulating an ambitious young actress (Gemma Arterton) into a sinister scheme to influence his paper’s new editor (Mark Strong). Lush costumes and period settings, not to mention an assortment of top-notch thespians that also includes Alfred Enoch, Ben Barnes, and the always-exquisite Lesley Manville, all make this grimly macabre morality tale about the dangers of an unbridled ego an unmistakable product of the UK – and it’s likely fans of “BritTV” style costume dramas will be most appreciative of its somewhat old-fashioned charms. Even so, another deftly over-the-top performance from McKellen and an underlying exploration of hazards of leading an openly queer life within a comfortably homophobic status quo are enough to make it interesting for other audiences, too.
“Unfightable” (theaters, Sept. 13 in New York and Sept. 20 in LA; Fuse TV, October TBA): Another new doc tells the story of transgender MMA fighter Alana McLaughlin, from her difficult upbringing and service in the US Special Forces, through her transition and search for community in Portland, to her decision to seek professional status in an arena notorious for its bias against transgender athletes. A real-life narrative highlighting the bravery it can take to assert one’s true identity, this must-see offering from director Marc J. Perez only screens in New York and LA this month, but debuts on Fuse TV in October.
“Will and Harper” (theaters, Sept. 13 / Netflix, Sept. 27): Yet another doc – or is it a non-fiction “road trip buddy movie?” – is set apart from the rest by the star power on the screen: namely Will Farrell, who goes on a cross-country drive with close friend Harper Steele, a writer he met on his first day working on “Saturday Night Live” in 1995. The twist? Steele, whom Farrell had only known as a man, had come out to him as a trans woman, and the trip is their way of forging a new path forward in their friendship “through laughter, tears, and many cans of Pringles.” Funny, intimate, honest, and heartfelt, this is one of those movies that has Hollywood abuzz, and with good reason – its unequivocal and highly visible exploration of trans identity comes with considerable industry clout in the form of its star (who is joined by fellow SNL alums like Seth Meyers, Tina Fey, Kristen Wiig, Colin Jost, Will Forte, Molly Shannon, Tim Meadows, and Paula Pell) and promotes unconditional love and acceptance toward trans people on the cusp of an election in which their rights and protections are very much at stake. Needless to say, this one should be near the top of your watch list.
“My Old Ass” (theaters, limited Sept. 13, wide Sept. 27): Just in time for the new psychedelic revolution comes this comical coming-of-age story in which free-spirited Elliott (Maisy Stella) takes an 18th birthday mushroom trip and finds herself face-to-face with her own 39-year-old self (Aubrey Plaza). Her “old ass” has some pretty strong opinions about what her younger self should and shouldn’t be doing, and doesn’t hesitate to deliver them in between wisecracks – causing Elliott to second-guess everything she thought she knew about family, love and what increasingly appears to be a transformative summer ahead. Written and directed by Megan Park, and also featuring Percy Hynes White, Maddie Ziegler, and Kerrice Brooks, this one is notable for featuring a bisexual central character, which is more than enough for us to put it on our list.
“How to Die Alone” (Hulu, Sept. 13): In this comedy series co-created by and starring Natasha Rothwell, Mel is a “broke, fat, Black JFK airport employee who’s never been in love and forgotten how to dream” – until an accident leads to a near-death experience. Jarred into a new outlook on life, she throws herself into a quest to go out and start living by any means necessary. Rothwell’s strong talents are enough to bring us to the table, but out gay co-star Conrad Ricamora (“How to Get Away With Murder,” “Fire Island”), as Mel’s best friend, definitely ups our interest level for this promising new entry.
“Agatha All Along” (Disney +, Sept. 18): We all know Marvel has been struggling to please its fans with its ambitious slate of TV content, but one hands-down winner for the titanic franchise was certainly the imaginative and ultimately powerful “WandaVision” – and this new miniseries, which stems directly from that critically lauded entry into the MCU canon, is breathlessly anticipated as a consequence. It follows the further misadventures of villainous Agatha Harkness (Kathryn Hahn), who (according to the official synopsis) “finds herself down and out of power after a suspicious goth teen [Joe Locke, ‘Heartstopper’] helps break her free” from the spell that trapped her at the conclusion of the former series. When he asks her to take him down the legendary “Witches’ Road,” a series of dangerous magical trials that might help her restore her powers, her interest is piqued, so the pair gathers a “desperate coven” and sets off on the treacherous journey together. Hahn’s reprisal of her fabulously campy supervillain role is likely to be the main attraction, but including the adorable Locke as her gay new teen familiar is a brilliantly irresistible touch.
“Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story” (Netflix, Sept.19): Ryan Murphy and Ian Brennan’s true-crime anthology series “Monster” follows up its award-winning “Dahmer” saga by exploring the story of the real-life titular brothers, convicted in 1996 for the murders of their parents, José and Mary Louise “Kitty” Menendez – successfully prosecuted on the argument that they were motivated by greed for the family fortune despite the brothers’ claims of lifelong physical, emotional, and sexual abuse. It was a shocking, heavily publicized case, launching a surge in audience fascination with true crime, and let’s face it – nobody has quite the same golden touch in getting to the humanity behind these kinds of lurid tabloid tales as the prolific Murphy. It’s a must-watch, you can count on it – though if it’s anywhere near as disturbing as the show’s inaugural season, it probably won’t be a binge-watch. Javier Bardem and Chloë Sevigny play the parents, with relative newcomers Cooper Koch and Nicholas Alexander Chavez as the boys.
“Brilliant Minds” (NBC, Sept. 23) Out gay actor Zachary Quinto stars in this new medical procedural, loosely based on the life and work of Dr. Oliver Sacks, the famed late doctor whose work helped reconfigure the way we understand and treat neurological disorders – but while the real Sacks, though gay, didn’t come out until late in life, the series “re-imagines” his story into modern New York, giving Quinto’s version of the doc the chance to not only be open about his sexuality, but to use some unorthodox practices to help his patients. It might sound a bit forced, but Quinto is always an interesting actor to watch, and any chance to get queer talent playing queer characters in queer stories is good enough to warrant a chance from us, too.
“Grotesquerie” (Sept. 25, FX): The season’s second Ryan Murphy show is this miniseries about a small community unsettled by a wave of heinous crimes – which feel to the town’s lead investigator (Niecy Nash) to be eerily personal. Struggling with issues at home (and her own inner demons), she enlists the aid of a journalist nun (Micaela Diamond) with a difficult past of her own; together, this mismatched team strings together clues as they find themselves snared in a sinister web that only seems to raise more questions than answers. Yes, that all sounds pretty vague and evokes “American Horror Story” vibes without revealing anything – but with Nash as its star and supporting players like Lesley Manville, Courtney B. Vance, and even Travis Kelce (yes, him) on the roster, it’s bound to be a good time.
“Joker: Folies a Deux” (theaters, Oct. 4): This sequel to 2019’s acclaimed “Joker” brings back both director Todd Phillips and star Joaquin Phoenix as failed comedian Arthur Fleck, continuing his re-imagined origin story into the iconic “Batman” villain as it introduces him to the “love of his life” – soon-to-be fellow villain Harley Quinn (Lady Gaga) – while incarcerated in Arkham Asylum. The mad mischief-makers naturally embark upon what’s described as “a doomed romantic misadventure,” and frankly, we don’t know much more than that. But the trailers look amazing, and there’s no question of Phoenix’s brilliance in a role he’s already made his own. Even without those encouragements, though, there’s nothing that’s going to stop fans of queer diva Gaga from flocking to the theater to see her take on a character she seems already to have been destined to play – and you can bet we’ll be among them.
“Smile 2” (theaters, Oct. 18): For horror fans, Halloween brings this sequel to the popular 2019 “death curse” chiller from filmmaker Parker Finn, this time following a global pop sensation (Naomi Scott) as she starts out on a new world tour, only to begin experiencing increasingly terrifying and inexplicable events. No, the premise doesn’t sound terribly original (and just as it didn’t in the first installment), but if Finn keeps the same level of visual and storytelling skills as the last time around, it’s sure to be a delightfully terrifying thrill ride for those who dare.
“Fanatical: The Catfishing of Tegan and Sara” (Hulu, Oct. 18): Our list closes with one final documentary, which chronicles the labyrinthine tale of how the influential queer indie rock band of the title fell victim to an insidious hacking scheme from a lone stalker, leading to an identity-theft and catfishing campaign that continued to terrorize both the two musicians and their global legion of fans for more than a decade. Tegan and Sara join documentary filmmaker and investigator Erin Lee Carr to unfold this real-world mystery is into “a thriller, a caper, a whodunnit, and an intimate personal journey rolled into one.” Sounds good to us!
Movies
Timely doc celebrates America’s most beloved president as ‘Lover of Men’
Was Lincoln the most prominent LGBTQ hero in U.S. history?
It’s reasonable to assume, if you’re someone with an interest in “hidden” queer history, that you are already aware of the speculation that Abraham Lincoln might have been gay, or at least bisexual.
Those labels didn’t exist in his time, but the 16th POTUS left a trail of eyebrow-raising same-sex relationships, nonetheless, which many scholars consider as evidence that he was likely a member of what we now call the LGBTQ community.
The discussion around Lincoln’s sexuality has always been broadly drawn and ambiguously cloaked by 19th-century social norms (which [spoiler alert] were not quite as Puritanical as we might believe). Conclusions must be drawn by inference, so it’s no surprise that many historians tend to be wary of projecting modern-day interpretations on a past era. Such experts warn against relying on a between-the-lines reading of “official” history to provide factual certainty; by that standard, whatever the implications might suggest, there’s simply no way to prove anything, one way or another, and that’s the end of the story.
Others, however, are not so eager to close the discussion; that’s why the creators of “Lover of Men: The Untold History of Abraham Lincoln” – a new documentary conveniently timed for release mere months ahead of what might, when it comes to the subject of LGBTQ acceptance and equality, be our most crucial election so far – decided to step in and set the record (if you’ll pardon the expression) straight.
Directed by Shaun Peterson – who co-wrote alongside Joshua Koffman, Grace Leeson, and Robert Rosenheck – and unapologetically committed to piercing the opacity of a biography that contains too many “red flags” to ignore, it’s a documentary that eschews neutrality to make a case for claiming “Honest Abe” as the most prominent LGBTQ hero in the Great American Story. Unfolded by expert historians – both queer and otherwise – as an intimate portrait of a profoundly public figure, it charts Lincoln’s life through a lens trained on private experience, and goes beyond that to frame the much-beloved president’s growth and transformation into one of the world’s most significant leaders as a probable consequence of the “friendships” he experienced with the men who were his closest companions during different periods of his life.
Most of the attention is directed, unsurprisingly, at Joshua Speed, the handsome shopkeeper with whom, for four years of his young manhood, Lincoln shared a bed as a matter of “convenience” – despite offers of free and private lodgings elsewhere and a successful law practice that would have allowed him to buy a bed of his own and a house in which to put it. Casting Speed as “the love of Lincoln’s life,” it positions him (through plentiful historical documentation) as the man who helped the future president find his mojo; even so, it goes on to present evidence supporting less well-known male companions as catalysts to Lincoln’s maturation both as a commander-in-chief and a human being.
We won’t go into much detail here; the movie does a better job of illuminating the record than we ever could – and it does so not by relying solely on the speculation of possibly biased commentators, but by presenting “the receipts” as they appear in the indisputable (yet under-discussed) historical record. Gleaned from private correspondences and interviews with Lincoln’s primary contemporary biographer, these details reveal (among other things) the future president’s ambivalence toward women, the questionable context in which Lincoln bedded down with his various male companions, and the emotional bond he had with each of them that seemed to overshadow the one he shared with his eventual first lady, Mary Todd Lincoln – who, at least through the lens cast upon her here, was probably more in love with the idea of being married to a president than she was to the president she married.
No, there’s no “smoking gun” (again, pardon the expression) to be found by the erudite scholars who expound upon the persuasively numerous clues contained in Lincoln’s biography during the course of the film. There are, however, plenty of tell-tale powder burns. By exploring the nuance behind the many documented-but-veiled suggestions about the martyred president’s relationships, both male and female, this varied assortment of historians highlights the points that strike a familiar chord for queer people even if they’re likely to go unconsidered by anyone else. By the end, “Lover of Men” has expertly pleaded its case and rested it, relying on the weight and volume of its circumstantial evidence to satisfy any reasonable doubt.
The final verdict, of course, remains up to the individual viewer, and it unfortunately goes without saying that a good many will be watching with intent to discredit any hint of queerness within Lincoln’s biography, if they even watch it at all. Yet while it’s easy to reject an idea when you’ve already made up your mind that it’s false, it’s just as easy to accept one that you want to be true; and though the historians of Peterson’s smart and sassy movie carry an undeniable weight of credibility in their arguments, what remains indisputably accurate is that there is no way to know with certainty if our most-revered president was shaded with the “lavender” referenced by his poetic biographer Carl Sandburg to describe his nature in a later-prudently deleted passage of prose.
That’s perfectly all right, though. “Lover of Men” never tries to claim, unequivocally, that Lincoln belonged in the LGBTQ rainbow, only that the likely probability that he did is worthy of consideration. Further, it goes on to highlight the open-minded empathy that allowed him to pivot his viewpoint in ways that are typically unthinkable in politics; the evolution it charts for Lincoln from gifted country bumpkin to fully aware (dare we say “woke”?) humanitarian leader makes him an ideological model that feels crucial today. That having to suppress his true nature may have shaped the values and ideals that would ultimately help him to change the world makes the film’s arguments even more persuasive; and if its re-enactments of encounters between Lincoln and his alleged male lovers read as a little too modern to be true, they certainly convey a more plausible interpretation than can be found in any surface reading of the scrupulously polite language describing such events in the historic record.
Reinforced by filmed footage of the now-historically preserved sites (the smallness of an old shared cot speaks volumes) where Lincoln’s intimate life took place, these fancifully anachronistic translations of 19th-century queer courtship into something instantly recognizable to modern queer viewers succeed in making it difficult to cling to a denial that this particular American icon might have been queer – unless you are very deeply invested, for whatever reason, in doing so.
Sadly, that last point means a great many people will probably reject this passionately earnest piece of info-tainment sight unseen; but for those who don’t, it offers an intelligent and reasonable perspective on one of our most important national icons that can only increase his relevance in an age almost as divisive as the one over which he was destined to preside.
In other words, don’t miss it.
Movies
True-life prison drama ‘Sing Sing’ celebrates power of art
Domingo delivers Oscar-worthy performance
When Colman Domingo became a frontrunner for last year’s Best Actor Oscar – nominated for his star turn as the titular civil rights hero in “Rustin” – it was big news for the LGBTQ community. He was the first openly gay Afro-Latino to be nominated for the award. Had he won, he would have been the first openly gay actor to take the category, and only the second out queer performer to win in any of the acting categories. It would have been a milestone.
Yet his loss, somehow, didn’t seem much of a disappointment: Colman’s prodigious talent (also on display in last year’s “The Color Purple”) seemed to assure fans that it would get another chance – and “Sing Sing,” now in theaters nationwide after an auspicious debut at the 2023 Toronto International Film Festival, might very well be the movie that gets it for him.
In it, Domingo portrays John “Divine G” Whitfield, an inmate at New York’s Sing Sing Correctional Facility who has become a pillar of the prison’s “Rehabilitation Through the Arts” (RTA) program, through which he and fellow participants collaborate on the creation and performance of theater presentations for the larger prison population. As the group plans its next play – a fantastical time-travel comedy combining an eclectic mix of classic storylines and characters – he is equally focused on a clemency hearing that might overturn his sentence for a murder he didn’t commit. That doesn’t stop him from reaching out to help a hard-case new recruit (Clarence Macklin) into the fold, despite the newcomer’s chip-on-the-shoulder attitude and a rivalry that threatens his own status as a “top dog” in the company. As both the performance and his hearing draw nearer, the inevitable hardships and humiliations of prison existence take their toll, culminating in a crisis of faith that threatens to undermine not only the upcoming play, but the unwavering resilience that has allowed him to resist the dehumanizing effects of his incarceration.
As co-written by Clint Bentley and director Greg Kwedar, the screenplay gives us little in the way of expository information, even skipping the formality of opening credits in favor of dropping us directly into the action, and instead allows us to glean the necessary background details as we go. It’s never an obstacle; Kwedar’s simple-yet-eloquent approach to presenting the narrative allows the actors to reveal information through nuance as much as through words; cinematographer Pat Scola helps by framing the visuals in a radiant natural light that lends warmth to the institutional bleakness of the setting, making it easy to be patient as we pick up what we need to know. These qualities subliminally allow us to keep a comfortable state of mind in a setting intended by definition to be deliberately UNcomfortable, which also facilitates our engagement with the creative energy of the troupe’s rehearsals – guided by a weathered director (Paul Raci) with a gift for teaching his charges to “trust the process” – and connects us with the theme of personal transformation through art, a thread that runs throughout the film and feels at least equally as significant as the details of any individual character’s personal story.
It’s this, of course, that gives “Sing Sing” its most profound and universal impact. Though any viewer might reasonably expect a movie about prisoners – most of them people of color from marginalized and disadvantaged backgrounds – to be geared toward a focus on issues of equity and social justice, Kwedar’s film allows those ideas to remain self-evident while placing its dominant weight behind the premise that artistic expression can function as both an escape from the suffering of a bleak everyday existence and a means of transcending it. Reinforced repeatedly in the narrative, most obviously in the inclusion of Shakespeare’s “To be or not to be” soliloquy from “Hamlet” but underscored through most of the material we see the inmates perform, this driving sense of hopeful purpose makes the story of Whitfield and his fellow prisoners into an unmistakable metaphor for anyone who has ever struggled to find meaning and peace in a cold and unpredictable world – and let’s face it, that means almost everybody.
Perhaps inevitably for such a film, “Sing Sing” occasionally seems to come off as one of those idealized Hollywood “feel-good” social dramas in which the heartaches and tragedies are overcome by hope and an undeterred spirit; the more cynical among its audience might well see it as “too good to be true.” Such judgments, however, become harder to render with the knowledge that – and it almost feels like a spoiler to reveal it, since the movie chooses to do so only when the credits finally roll at the end – not only is it a true story, but most of its cast (including Maclin, who plays himself) are actual alumni of the real RTA program, which operates in six New York State prisons. Not only that, the real-life Whitfield (who himself appears in a small role) and Maclin collaborated with Kwedar and Bentley on the story – so that, regardless of any dramatic license that may have been taken, there is an undeniable authenticity that is borne out by the inclusion of so many genuine “success stories” from the program in the film’s ensemble cast.
As for that cast, each of them gives an equally compelling performance, even when they only have a few minutes of screen time; Kwedar gives everyone moments to shine, and while some actors have more of those than others, all contribute equally to the film’s overall power to move us.
Still, it’s the major figures that have the biggest standout moments; Raci brings intelligence, compassion, and an air of nurturing authority to his role as the group’s seasoned director, and Maclin burns with the charismatic intensity of an experienced movie star – which he should, on the strength of this remarkable debut alone. Also worth mentioning is Sean San José, a close longtime off-screen friend to Colman, who mirrors their real-life relationship in his performance as a fellow inmate and confidante to add an extra touch of palpable camaraderie to their scenes.
“Sing Sing” ultimately belongs, however, to its lead player. Domingo is a fearless and powerful actor, something he has proven throughout his career and that has aided his rise to acclaim and stardom, and he brings those qualities to this role for an unforgettable star turn. Intelligent, erudite, passionate, vulnerable, and capable of delivering Shakespearean verse or prison slang with equal conviction and command, he elevates the movie while simultaneously blending seamlessly into its larger purpose. Perhaps best of all, there’s nothing about his performance that screams “awards bait” — and that, somehow, makes him even more deserving of receiving honors for it.
Whether he gets them or not, “Sing Sing” is a movie to be remembered — a testament to the power of art and the “invincible summer” that keeps us going when all of life seems intent on extinguishing our hope. It leaves us feeling inspired, renewed, and ready to face the world with a refreshed perspective.
It’s the rare movie that can manage that, so don’t miss this one.
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