We sat down with director Greg Kwedar for a long chat about his powerful film Sing Sing, starring Colman Domingo and an alumni cast of people previously incarcerated at the titular prison.
As I sit down to chat with director Greg Kwedar about his new drama Sing Sing, he’s coming off of two Q&A screenings in London the day before, and has two more coming. We’re in a very posh London hotel, which feels miles away from the world of his movie.
Sing Sing is an extraordinary film, which takes place inside the walls of the titular prison. Colman Domingo plays Divine G, who is fighting his case while also finding purpose in the Rehabilitation Through the Arts programme inside Sing Sing Correctional Facility, New York. Clarence Maclin plays a version of himself in the film, a newcomer to the group who finds himself often at odds with Divine G, but the men also find companionship and support with each other.
The film is based on real people, with the cast mostly consisting of real RTA members who were incarcerated at the maximum security prison. Most of them are also executive producers on the film and the entire cast – including Oscar-nominee Domingo – were paid equal amounts for their work. Kwedar was pleased to find that the film resonated with audiences outside of America.
“I was really curious how the movie would travel and be experienced in other cultures and countries and it just continues to remind me [that] I think we have more in common than we do apart,” the director says.
You can find our in-depth chat below.
I understand that this kind of started as a documentary. Is that right?
I was just doing a job. I was producing a short documentary about a different topic in a prison in Kansas, and that was eight years ago. On a tour of the facility, I saw a young man raising a rescue dog inside of a cell. The healing that was happening in both directions between this man and this animal, which completely contradicted all of my expectations about prison and incarcerated people, floored me. I was desperate to know if there was anyone else out there doing things differently. And so that night in the hotel room, I asked Google this question, who was doing things differently in prison and this program in New York, Rehabilitation Through the Arts (RTA) was at the top of the search field.
They had been doing these plays since 1996 inside Sing Sing and they were kind of Sing Sing’s best kept secret. There was this Esquire piece from 2005 about a time travelling musical comedy called Breaking The Mummy’s Code, that just knocked me out, because I just felt the this wonderful tone coming off of it, the playfulness of the work juxtaposed against the environment it was set within that felt like this wonderful invitation into the joy of their process. And I really wanted to meet them and to experience Mummy’s Code for myself.
I’m dying to see them do a film version of it!
Well, Brent (Buell, director of Breaking The Mummy’s Code) hopes to remount it for the stage. It’d be my dream too, to see a lot of the men that are in the movie play these roles again for the stage audience.
The film is a bit of a hybrid of what’s real and what’s fiction. What did that give you as a storyteller?
I came up in documentary filmmaking, and that was where my first training was but as I started moving into narrative films, with my creative partner, Clint Bentley. We’ve been working together since about 2010, and have made three movies together, including this one. And as we were coming into narrative [filmmaking] – which is also the way I process the world, through narrative storytelling and literature – what we found was like, if we could bring almost this journalistic process into narrative work and build these stories from the dirt up, we could potentially access a deeper plane of truth.
I think there are things that Colman Domingo conveys with his face, sometimes in total [silence], without any dialogue, that speak to some deep part of us that I think no documentary could and then there are things in the movie that could never have been written, but could only have been lived.
Was it important then to get someone like Colman, who is just phenomenal, to lead the film?
Colman was a partner in so many more ways than just as a performer. It’s also indicative of who he is as an artist. He’s one of our greatest actors, but he’s also a playwright. He was a stage actor, he started in basement theatre and did educational theatre. He’s also a teacher, he’s a director and a producer.
When he got involved in this project, it was six years into the journey, but we were starting over with a new script, because we had this revelation to centre the movie on this real life friendship between Divine Eye and Divine G, and we came to him because in my bones, I felt there was just no one else to play that part but Colman. Even though I couldn’t intellectualise it, I just knew he was the one.
I think the thing that he was so attracted to about the opportunity was the blank canvas of it all, that he could come in and really help shape that character, the story and the culture on set. He’s an actor who could have come into this project, given that he’s at the height of his powers, and use that as a kind of leverage over everyone and kind of overpower the rest of the cast and us as the filmmakers. He was the top dog and yet he came with such humility and a posture that was reflective of the communal work we were all trying to do, and knew he had a lot to learn from the men who had really lived it, and that he had a lot to offer. All of our cast had never acted in a film before, and he had so much he could share in terms of how to shape a performance for the screen. That then translated into the performance itself, I think, of a performance that is commanding but also incredibly generous and allowing the people around him to shine.
How closely did he work with the real Divine G?
Divine G is a wonderful actor, and he actually has a cameo in the movie. He asks for an autograph of his own book from the actor playing himself. But he also has a day job. He drives a subway for the MTA, the F train, and he’s also continuing to fight his case to prove his innocence. Even though he’s been home for over 10 years, he still hasn’t been exonerated. He has many interests, he loves acting, but he’s also a writer and has real interest in behind the scenes storytelling. He’s an executive producer on the movie as well with us.
There were early conversations that he and Colman had, but Colman likes to find whatever this vibration is inside someone, like the deeper resonance, and then not know too much, it can get in your head, but be able to take that, like the core essence, and then build around that. It was a good balance between the two of them of how much to talk, how little to talk. But I do remember our first Zoom with Colman meeting Divine G for the first time. Divine G got off, and Colman and I were just in tears, and Colman was just like, ‘How did he hold on to that divine light for so long? How did he not give up?’ Because it was 25 years that he had to endure before he finally came home and [he] still didn’t let that kill his spirit.
I was really surprised how funny the film is despite the heavy themes. How did you navigate that tone?
Yeah, that duality is constantly at play, sometimes even in the same scene and certainly within the physical environment. You have Sing Sing, which is a 200-year-old prison on the shore of a stunning river and green mountains, but once you come to the shore, there’s miles of razor wire and these walls and these guard towers.
Originally, it was a prison that almost operated, when it was first formed, in complete solitary confinement. No one could speak as they moved throughout their day. It was a system called the Auburn system, and now, in that same place, Mummy’s Code was performed. it’s kind of like on top of these stones, this art is created, and we were kind of always holding that tension. Mummy’s Code was the first keyhole for us to find that tightrope of tone. Because if we were to dramatise a play from the program into a film, and we were to pick one of the classic dramas, you’d have a drama that you were dramatising inside of a dramatic place. I think it would yield a melodrama. And this comedy inside of that place creates this ballast that allows for it to feel like life, it has space for all of these emotional experiences
You filmed in a real prison. That must have been incredibly difficult for a lot of the cast to return to a setting like that. What was that like, those early days of going in there?
This was a prison called Downstate that was near Sing Sing that closed a month before we went in there. They were still pulling furniture out, all the gates still worked, you could press all the buttons. The surprising thing about all this is that our entire alumni cast have been incarcerated at Downstate at one point in their lives. Because if you were to do a long bid in New York, you would start that journey at Downstate and then migrate to other facilities across the state.
It was something we were all very sensitive about, and had lots of discussions with our cast about travelling back in. To all of us, our cast included, it felt really important to not build this set on some kind of stage, to really feel the darkness of the environment opposite the theatre space and the liberation that comes from it. But travelling back in there was something that was done with a lot of apprehension.
We had a therapist on set that the men had worked with at Sing Sing, but what they were really accessing was, first and foremost, their own friendships between each other as a means of support and recognizing that whatever apprehension they had, the purpose was greater of what they were doing. It really felt like it was their story that they were telling and something that they were very proud of, as well as the transition that would start to happen between this was a prison that’s once held me in captivity, now is a place that I can freely move through to tell my own story, and these greens that I’m wearing are now not a mandate, but a costume by which to express a character, and there was its own kind of catharsis in that.
There must have been a lot of feelings. How do you as a director navigate the limit of how you get the best out of them and push them a little bit, but not take them too far out of their comfort zone so that it becomes re-traumatising?
There wasn’t ever a conscious need to wring a towel out to get more out of someone. These are men that are very accessible, emotionally available, very honest, and it was more about paying attention and listening first before having really anything to say, and hearing what’s on someone’s mind and what their ideas are, and then if something feels like it’s resonating with me, affirming that with them. I think gentle is the best way to put it, just someone there that is their first audience, and is there to respond back when something really moved me, and if I had a question, to ask it with as much tenderness as possible and to be in the same kind of musical register or wavelength as everyone around me in the cast.
Like you said, these men are telling their own story, so for you, is the job more stepping back and just letting that unfold?
There’s a scene in particular where there’s an alumni who comes back inside to encourage the men, but then ends up needing their support, even though he came to give some inspirational message. He was reflecting [how] some of the challenges continue on the outside, just as they are on the inside, and that he missed the community that had supported him in the program. And I knew the main beats of the story he wanted to tell, which was one of his own stories that I had heard before. And it was more just about kind of taking it in these chapters and pulling Nate aside and and being like, ‘Okay, are we ready to move on? Do you feel like you were able to say everything you wanted to say?’ and encouraging him when he started to feel a little overwhelmed or anxious.
What kind of direction did all of the cast need? They are used to theatre acting, and it’s very different in terms of what your relationship with the camera is. Did you rehearse a lot at all?
Colman and Clarence had a very unique rehearsal process. We were starting to write this new script, and Clint and I would have conversations with the real Divine Eye and Divine G around the story. We would write a handful of scenes, and then we would get on Zoom with Colman and Clarence and share our screen. Colman and Clarence would read those early scenes cold for the first time, sort of first instincts, first ideas. And then we would stop, and we would talk about what was working, what felt off, new ideas, we’d maybe try it again. Then we would talk about where the story could go and we’d go write a few more scenes, so we were writing and rehearsing at the same time, for months, and by the time we were getting into prep, I almost had like a Zoom cut of the movie, because I’d been recording these sessions, and that backbone of the movie between the two of them was really there. But we didn’t stay too long in the material, so it wouldn’t grow stale, and by the time we got on set, it was almost like they were getting to live it anew again. And then the rest of the cast, we would walk through scenes and see how they felt on their feet, but we again tried to keep it as in the moment as possible with the broader cast.
One of my favourite scenes is where they’re auditioning for the play, because it’s such a great way to get to know these men. And there’s a line that really knocked me back. One of them says, ‘I’ve been playing a role my whole life.’ How many lines like that came from the men themselves?
It’s one of my favourite scenes, too, and we have hours of that material. Hopefully we’ll get to share that with the world.
DVD extras, maybe?
Yeah, exactly! The script had these three pillars, so the friendship between Divine Eye and Divine G was very scripted. But once we started getting into production of The Mummy’s Code, we tried to loosen our grip on it. [We’d] still have scripted moments that were relevant to the overall dramatic arc, but allow the chaos of putting out a show to bring that energy as much as possible into the room and not try to define it to find a point. The audition sequence is a great example of that. So the way that that worked on the page was just the men audition for Breaking The Mummy’s Code. Some are prepared, some are not prepared and then through a series of questions, we experience the warmth and silliness and the profound, something to that effect.
The way it worked in practice was I went to the cast and I said, you’re gonna audition again for Mummy’s Code. Here are all the parts, pick whatever role you want to audition for, come as prepared or as not prepared as you want to be and then we’ll ask you some questions. Some were very prepared, some were not prepared and it gave this kind of live wire energy of that vulnerability, of how a casting session might actually go down.
And then those questions that would be asked would range from fighting an imaginary gladiator, to what roles have you played in other productions? Why do you love acting? What are you afraid of? Can you tell us a childhood story? And these really special, almost confessional moments started to emerge from that. Whatever those nerves were, especially looking right down the barrel of a camera, led to this deep vulnerability.
The camera is also quite an intrusive thing, having it right next to you. I assume that in a theatre production, you’re kind of feeding off the crowd, and you live in the moment, whereas in a film, you might do several takes of something and there’s a big, blocky camera right in your face. Did that take some getting used to?
In that particular scene, we were aware that it was a different dynamic, where the camera couldn’t be as much of a fly on the wall as it was in the rest of the movie. Pat Scola (director of photography) and the rest of our production team, had everything in place and built and the marks and very little movement. So when our actor would come in and take their place, the way the lights were, it can almost feel like you were in your own confessional room, in a way. And we all tried to be just as still as possible, so that what could happen, could really emerge from within.
When these interviews were confirmed, we were sent information on what kind of language to use, which I really appreciated. I had no idea that it’s not appropriate to refer to someone as an inmate, but to always put the person first, refer to them as a person who was incarcerated. With Sing Sing, did you want to not just challenge people’s views of people who have been incarcerated, but actually create meaningful, concrete change?
Thanks for mentioning that. It was an evolution for me across eight years. I think personally and as a society, we [have] to forgive the person we were yesterday, you know? And it’s more about “The arc of time is long and bends towards justice.” I think language is particularly powerful in terms of how we see people. The term inmate, the reason we are trying to move forward from is that it’s a fixed identity. The place and the person become fixed, and you’re known solely for what has brought you there, and not the capacity for who you can become, which is at the core of what the movie is interrogating. The movie is trying to move closer, past the prison greens and being defined by a number and not a name, towards someone’s face, to look them in the eyes, to know their name, to know their story.
I think once that happens, that person can’t be anything but human. Once you see someone in the fullness of their humanity, I think we see that anything is possible and what they can grow into and they’re not fixed in place, but they have a future. We’re not shy about some of the ideas that are happening in the movie and what the movie is yearning for in terms of a future. But at the same time, we were careful not to make too specific or prescriptive of an intellectual argument, but instead to make an emotional argument and allow that to resonate with audiences and create maybe very surprising results of what you do once you recognize the fullness of the humanity of the people behind the walls.
Has this been screened for other people who used to be incarcerated? What has the reception been like?
Most namely, we premiered the movie inside Sing Sing.
Were you able to go in and join the screening?
I was there, along with many of the alumni, including Divine Eye and Divine G, and almost our entire alumni cast. And then there was a panel discussion at the end where Divine Eye and Dino, who is one of the stars of film, sat on stage with two current members of the program and spoke to this incarcerated group of men, many of which were also current members of RTA.
They were sitting on the same stage that The Mummy’s Code was performed on over 20 years ago, with a screen behind it, playing a movie based on that experience. I just remember so clearly that there were civilians in the audience, but Divine Eye and Dino turned their chairs towards the incarcerated men and were speaking almost directly to them, saying, essentially, keep doing the work. Don’t give up. You can have a beautiful life outside as well. We’re proof of it, we need you out here, come home.
Sing Sing is in cinemas 30th August.
