Sing Sing, Daughters, and Breaking Down Prison Walls

It’s rare that two films in a given year are as harmoniously in sync as the prison drama Sing Sing and the documentary Daughters, which both center their narratives on men who have been incarcerated. The films offer grace for those serving out their sentences, demonstrating how community within and outside the walls of prison can bring restoration.

Based on the real-life Rehabilitation Through the Arts (RTA) program, Sing Sing follows a group of men who are incarcerated at the maximum-security prison in New York of the same name. Colman Domingo plays John “Divine G” Whitfield, one of the founding members of the group, while other characters are played by men who were formerly incarcerated and had once belonged to the troupe. Together, the men use the collective experience of theater to bear each other’s burdens and process emotions. Daughters focuses on men in a Washington, D.C., jail program that connects them with their children by holding a daddy-daughter dance after 10 weeks of preparatory coaching and community.

Sing Sing, directed by Greg Kwedar and still playing in some theaters, and Daughters, directed by Natalie Rae and Angela Patton and available on Netflix, both hold a deep tenderness for the men on the screen. This is touchingly rendered through visually distinct yet tonally similar sequences, all filmed through handheld cameras, which add a layer of intimacy. In Sing Sing, on the first day of rehearsals for the ambitious, multi-genre play the men plan to stage, they each gleefully take turns introducing themselves as their characters, which range from a mummy to time travelers to Roman gladiators. Their joy is palpable as they prance and dance in character; meanwhile, cinematographer Pat Scola’s camera moves like a young child trying to keep up with their theatrical energy. In another scene, newcomer Clarence “Divine Eye” Maclin, playing a version of himself, questions the zeal of the troupe—especially in contrast to the crushing realities of the prison around them. Sean Dino Johnson, also playing himself, tearfully explains: “We are here to become human again.” Such a line invokes the psalmist's testimony in Psalm 139: “For you created my inmost being . . . I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.” Despite the ways the prison system crushes and dehumanizes the people within, tempting those incarcerated to believe that they’re less than others, Johnson and Sing Sing insist upon what the Bible also declares: that these men are human, worthy of love, and contain multitudes.

In Daughters, Rae and Patton offer up a similar moment of dignity rooted in a scene of “play.” On the day of the dance, the film cuts between scenes of the daughters and fathers getting ready for the occasion. It’s a weighty and powerful moment to see the men trade their orange jumpsuits for a diverse array of suit jackets, ties, pants, and dress shoes. As in Sing Sing, these moments are intimately documented through a handheld camera. Cinematographer Michael Fernandez isn’t afraid to get up close and personal, the frame capturing the storm of emotions brewing for both daughters and fathers. This cozy touch extends to the dance itself, especially when the camera lingers on a father who weeps as he fiercely hugs his two daughters. While it’s tragic when the spell of the dance ends (the camera lingers on a discarded pile of ties and dress shoes after the men put their jumpsuits back on), there’s also a sense of palpable hope. These men are forever changed by this experience, with many committing to be better and serving out their sentences faithfully with the hope of seeing their daughters again.

Dominique Gilliard, author of Rethinking Incarceration: Advocating for Justice That Restores, describes the dehumanizing isolation of incarceration in America. He writes, “Our nation's overcrowded jails, prisons, and detention centers are an indictment of our criminal justice system. It is impossible to visit these institutions and not be struck by the inhumane treatment of the people serving time and the disproportionate number of black and brown bodies confined in cages like animals.” Gilliard, an ordained minister, declares that there’s a radial opportunity for the church to bear witness here: “Christians must join the freedom caravan and take part in the ongoing work of reimagining true justice. We can no longer wait until it is socially expedient . . . Jesus embodied God’s heart for restoration. Jesus came to save, redeem, and restore those who are separated from God and their community because of their sin.”

In the ways they frame the men at their centers, both Sing Sing and Daughters articulate how those who are imprisoned need the gift of community—from within and outside the walls that imprison them. Jesus' ministry involved being present with those whom society had cast out, such as tax collectors and prostitutes. What’s more, he identified himself as one of the vulnerable—including the prisoner. “‘When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’” the righteous ask in the story of the sheep and the goats in Matthew 25. And the King replies, “‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’”

Sing Sing and Daughters show the beauty of living out these words, of viewing the downtrodden as people worthy of dignity, and pushing past the prison walls that so easily entangle to extend God’s grace and love.

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At Think Christian, we encourage careful cultural discernment. We recognize and respect that many Christians choose not to engage with pop culture that contains particular content, such as abuse, sex, violence, alcohol or drug use, or that employs the use of coarse language. To that end, we suggest visiting Common Sense Media for detailed information regarding the content of the particular pieces of pop culture discussed in this article.