Fresh Air - 'Sing Sing' Offers a Glimpse of Life Behind Bars

Episode Date: August 8, 2024

Filmmaker Greg Kwedar and formerly incarcerated actor Clarence "Divine Eye" Maclin discuss their new film, which centers on the real-life Rehabilitation Through the Arts program founded at Sing Sing prison. Plus, Justin Chang reviews the film Good One. Learn more about sponsor message choices: podcastchoices.com/adchoicesNPR Privacy Policy

Support for this podcast and the following message come from the NPR Wine Club, which has generated over $1.75 million to support NPR programming. Whether buying a few bottles or joining the club, you can learn more at nprwineclub.org slash podcast. Must be 21 or older to purchase. This is Fresh Air. I'm Tanya Mosley. Prison is rarely, if ever, described as a place where people get to experience joy or explore who they really are. But a new movie gives us an inside look at how incarcerated people are experiencing all of those things through theater. The film is called Sing Sing and is based on a theater program inside of the maximum security prison that's been around for 28 years called Rehabilitation Through the Arts. The movie stars Coleman Domingo as Divine G, a man incarcerated for a crime he did not commit. He taps into the depths of his emotions and finds purpose

through creating and starring in theatrical performances. The film is unique in that, with the exception of Domingo and a few others, the majority of the cast members are formerly incarcerated people who play versions of themselves. One of those actors is my guest today, Clarence Macklin. He first got involved in the theater program at Sing Sing while doing 17 Years for Robbery. In the film, Macklin plays a younger version of himself, an imprisoned person who is a natural on stage but struggles with his temper and shedding the version of himself that landed him there in the first place. Joining Macklin is Sing Sing director Greg Cuidar.

He and his writing partner, Clint Bentley, first learned about the program after reading an Esquire article about a group of men at the prison, including Macklin, who had performed a time-traveling musical comedy. Greg Cuidar and Clarence Macklin, welcome to Fresh Air. Thanks for having us. Yeah, it's kind of crazy to be here. I'm a listener. Hi, Mom. This is really a treat for us to talk to you all because this movie was really powerful to watch. And Greg, I read that it took you almost a decade to get this film made.

So you were pretty into the story. What was it that you read in that Esquire article that made you want to stick this out and get this made? I think first and foremost, it was the tone of it. It was the feeling. You know, because I read a lot of the press on rehabilitation through the arts, and they had done all the classic plays, you know, from Shakespeare to A Few Good Men. But this Esquire piece about this original production that had been formed for four nights only in 2005 at sing sing of this time-traveling musical comedy called breaking

the mummy's code and you know it was the playfulness of the work juxtaposed against the environment it was set within that felt like it encompassed almost the entirety of the human experience. And I think more than anything, I felt the joy of the men at work doing this. It felt like an invitation that I couldn't dismiss. And that's sort of taken hold and has only deepened with time. Clarence, you were part of that time traveling musical comedy performance, right? You had participated in the rehabilitation for the arts program during your time in prison, but you had been out since like 2012 and were living life. And then you get this call about

this opportunity for this movie. I can imagine it was exciting, but it also was kind of a sort of a call from your past from Brent Buell. Is that right? He was a theater director that you worked with inside of the prison. And he called you up and said, there's this opportunity that Greg and his writing partner, Clint, had for you. Right. Well, you know, it was really a no-brainer. Do you want to be in a movie? Of course. I'm a hand. You already know that. So if you put a spotlight on the ground, I'm jumping in it.

Well, just to add on to that, Brent was one of the first people I reached out to when I read this Esquire piece. I reached out to the journalist, John H. Richardson, and then Brent Buell, who wrote and directed this madcap comedy and was a 10-year volunteer in the program. And he got on the phone and the thing that he said was just like, you know, if you want to know what this is really like, you need to meet the men who lived it, like come up to New York. What I didn't like fully grasp at the time was that we were equally being interviewed by everyone that was around that table. But what happened was, you know, we walked through the door

in this apartment in NoHo had been kind of a safe haven for a lot of the men. Like when men were coming home and didn't have a place to stay, Brent and his wife, Janice, would open their doors and allow men to come stay as long as they needed to get on their feet. And so, it already kind of possessed a bit of the safe space that the program had on the inside. And Clarence was the first guy to walk through the door that day eight years ago. And I almost felt him before he entered the room. He has this presence and now audiences everywhere are getting to see that on screen, but he alongside the real Divine G who was there and several other men that are in this movie, there was this energy around the table. It was so

distinctly New York, which was delicious for my Texan ears, but it was also warm and caring and this candle that they had kept on for each other that, you know, even now home from their time incarcerated, anytime that they were around the table, they could light that flame again, you know. And we were just like, if we could only channel like what that room feels like and put it onto a screen, we have something. Clarence, do you remember that meeting? I remember that meeting vividly. Because when we sat down and we met Greg and Clint, we talked about a little bit of everything. We didn't just only talk about the possibility of making a movie. We talked about how we see the world. It was more of feeling out.

Because RTA has had many opportunities, many people came to us, but it doesn't seem like they was genuine. And we didn't feel that with Greg and Clint. We felt that they were sincere and they were genuine. And they came through Brent. And that in itself carries a lot of weight. I was struck by your description that the guys kept the light on for each other. And I'm very curious about how that then developed into them playing a version of themselves in the film. Because had you had this concept when you thought, hey, I might want to adapt this into a film that you were going to have actors in the traditional sense or these guys who were actors play themselves? Well, it was very clear even then the talent that's there. And, you know, that can be described in a number of ways.

There's yes, there's talent in terms of like acting potential, the craft of which this group of men had developed sometimes for decades through this program and through many productions. But there's this power of what can happen when you add lived experience into the storytelling process as well. And we knew even then that, you know, we wanted to feature alumni in this movie. I mean, just meeting Clarence was like, okay, that guy has to be in the film, you know, but not totally clear yet that it wouldn't just be featured in the film, but actually be a cornerstone of the film, like be the very beating heart of the film, this group of men, you know, at the center with a platform to help tell their own story that took time, you know,

and it took a lot of learning for us as artists to open that circle up and not try to imitate what we saw happening as filmmakers, but to actually embrace and almost mirror and reflect the program itself in the process of making the film. Something really interesting, even at the start of our conversation with each other, I heard you, Clarence, say to Greg, Beloved. And in the film, you guys call each other Beloved. Can you tell the story of how that name came to be? Well, a group of us in Sing Sing, not just only members of RTA, there was other men involved too. We decided that we wanted to take this word, the N-word, and flip it around and try to find a better way of addressing

ourselves and a more positive way of reinforcing reaffirmations about who we are. So to one another, what you mean to me. So beloved was the term that we came up with. How does it feel to be called beloved, Greg? It's actually the first time Clarence has ever called me that. I mean, I've been, you know, again, a witness to marveling at what happens when you hear it in the room and then also on film and then to see how audiences receive that and it starts to make small shifts inside them. But I remember very distinctly the first time I ever heard it was the first time that Clarence and Coleman Domingo ever met. It was on a Zoom and they were just having a conversation and I was just kind of eavesdropping in a little Zoom box as they began to discuss and tell stories from their lives.

And when Clarence shared that that was something essential to a lot of the relationships and the culture that they were building inside, it stopped the whole conversation. And Coleman was like immediately brought to tears. And he just looked at me and was like that has to be in the film there's such great chemistry between you and colman domingo clarence it feels natural um there are actually two very powerful scenes in the film where you two meet by this window in the prison and each time you're there you're coming from a different place. And by the end, you reverse attitudes. And it feels like we're watching two people who have known each other for a really long time, too. What did you learn from working with Coleman? Man, I learned a lot of things as far as this craft of entertaining and acting. We come from the theater, so I never was on screen before,

so there's a lot of differences. And one of the differences is that in theater, at least in the stage that I was performing on, you have to come from the diaphragm to make sure that the guy all the way in the last seat over there can hear every syllable, every enunciation, and every inflection on a word because it may change what he hears. So what I learned from Coleman is that you could bring that in. You don't have to be so

big with it, you know, just bring it in, dig more inside and bring more of yourself out. I want to play a scene from the film Sing Sing. In this scene, veteran actor Paul Racy, who plays Brent Buell, the theater director who in real life spent about a decade working for the Rehabilitation Through the Arts program. Racy has a group of you guys, participants in a circle, during a warm-up exercise where he asks all of you to recall a vivid memory, and then the men go around in a circle recounting their memories, starting with Divine G, played by Coleman Domingo. Let's listen. Summer, 1977. It's hot. Water ice truck coming down the street.

Mom gives me 25 cents. I go running down the street to get it. It tastes all cool in your mouth. Flavor. Cherry. I love cherry. Mouth all red. Spending time with my son and my daughter. Just watching them grow.

Living their life, you know? 90 degree weather, cutting grass in the backyard to a point where I'm just so exhausted and I just lay back and I smell the fresh grass I just cut and I'm dozing off and my dog come licking sweat off my face. Every summer, my mother sent me to Baltimore with my uncles and they're only a few years older than me. And it was a sense of freedom because my mother wasn me to Baltimore with my uncles, and they're only a few years older than me. And it was a sense of freedom,

because my mother wasn't looking over my shoulder. That's how they do it about the islands, you know? My grandma always tells us about the islands. The islands, that's where our people are from. Couldn't do it, maestro. I ain't never been there. I ain't never been there, and I'm not going to get there. This is real.

I'm stuck in this space. But I'm going to be stuck in this space. I guess I'll do what you suckers. And here it's all right. Get a little release. So I guess this is my space. That was a scene from the film Sing Sing, directed by my guest Greg Cuidar and starring Clarence Macklin.

And we hear in that scene you guys are doing this exercise, and Clarence, in that scene scene you're the second person to speak, and I think you say something like spending time with my son and my daughter and watching them grow. But we notice that everyone else shares these detailed stories, and you give the shortest answer, which is when folks watch the film, they'll understand that because we're watching your character grow over time. But your character has this heart of a poet, as it's described, but the demeanor of a wolf. Was that how it was for you in real life when you first joined the program? Well, I was a little reluctant to share the most in a me. Because I didn't think at that point that it would be believed or accepted. So, you know, especially when you're dealing with your kids and, you

know, in prison, you're not going to give up too much about your personal, you know, that kind of trust got to build. And although I was in a circle with brothers I trusted, at that point, I didn't trust that much yet. How long did it take for you to shed that wolf and allow some of the silly to get in, for you to embody the characters that you were playing? Well, it definitely happened through RTA. It more or less happened during the down times when we weren't doing actual performances, but we were having workshops. And in the workshops, we would peel back layers of the onion that we are. We have a bunch of layers that we have to peel back and examine.

And in those workshops is where a lot of bonds, a lot of the brotherhood bonds was built. What was your first time being on stage like? I remember everybody said I was supposed to be nervous and have butterflies in my stomach, but that's not what I remember. What do you remember? I remember me taking the stage. I'm here to tell a story, and I wanted you to be engrossed in that story. I want you to be submersed in it.

I did August Wilson's play, Jitney, and I played Booster, the son. And I remember I was giving the monologue, and I had this pause, I had this pause, and I extended the pause a little bit because, you know, when you're on stage, you only can see the front row, like the light's blind, and I can't see everybody. But I couldn't hear anybody breathe or nothing, and I didn't know whether I was doing good or bad. Yeah, so that was empowering for me to find out that I was actually doing good. They was on the edge of their seat waiting for the next thing I say. Greg, what did you know about prison before directing this movie? And maybe what was your

perceptions? How were they tested? Well, truthfully, very little, you know, and I think that's sort of the power of how the system works to make people who are incarcerated invisible. You know, there's the walls, there's the greens, there's the numbers, all these things are quite effective to kind of erase them from public conscience, unless you happen to have your family directly touched by it, of which, sadly, that's also much of America, you know, and I was privileged in the way that my family hadn't directly been touched by incarceration. But when I first went behind the walls, I was producing a short documentary eight years ago. And on a tour of the facility, I was producing a short documentary eight years ago. And on a tour of the facility, I passed by a cell and there was a young man raising a rescue dog inside of a cell.

And literally it was stopped in my tracks. Because in that moment, like the rug was pulled. You know, all of my expectations of prison and incarcerated people largely built upon, honestly, the movies I had grown up watching. Here I was seeing the opposite of that. I was seeing a person in their fullness there in that room. I was seeing the healing that was happening in both directions between this man and this animal. And I was just, I was really frustrated. You know, almost like you had the wool pulled over your eyes for a long time,

and now you were seeing, like, in 20-20 vision. And once you see it, once you see someone's humanity, you can't unsee that. And I think that's the gift of what that moment was. But also it was like a charge to what are you going to do with it now? And that night in the hotel room, I typed into Google, who is doing things differently in prison, and Rehabilitation Through the Arts was at the top of the search field. And I just consumed all of the stories that I was reading. And that's when I came across that Esquire article about the production of this play and reached out. You know, it was all connected in one day. All that unfolded. I've heard Clarence say how much it meant for you to see people from the outside come in and spend their time. Well, I know you initially joined Rehabilitation for the Arts to flirt with the women volunteers. I think that was something that you actually said first. But

you've also talked about seeing people like Greg and knowing that they were invested in you and seeing you in the program, actually being a part of you stepping deeper that come in from the outside and they don't see you as this wolf, this monster, this whatever image that you have to portray around the yard and in the jail and all those things. But they actually see you as people, as a human being. And when my opinion became valuable and, you know, when my thoughts became something that they wanted to know, you know, it changed the relationship. It's kind of like I have to see myself different as well. I have to formulate valuable opinions now. I can't just offer up anything. So my expectation of them also became an expectation that they had of me. And this was a beautiful exchange because it helps me to grow that way.

That's a way that I can learn and grow from by, you know, being respected and being treated as if I matter. That's one of the things that I would like to pass on for others, that brothers that may feel as though they're not valuable or that they don't matter. If we could pour a little bit of that into everyone, if we could let them know, just let them know that they matter, and it would change their own expectations of themselves. If you're just joining us, my guests today are director Greg Cuidar and actor Clarence Macklin from the new film Sing Sing. We'll continue our conversation after a short break. I'm Tanya Mosley, and this is Fresh Air.

This message comes from WISE, the app for doing things in other currencies. Send, spend, or receive money internationally, and always get the real-time mid-market exchange rate with no hidden fees. Download the WISE app today or visit WISE.com. T's and C's apply. Clarence, you grew up in Mount Vernon, New York, right? Yep, Mount Vernon. How would you describe the area where you grew up? Just like any other suburban city right outside the Bronx, it's more hood than not, especially where I grew up. I grew up poor.

But I had a lot of fun growing up. I enjoyed my life. Yeah, you grew up with your mom and your two younger brothers. My two brothers, yeah, yeah. Yeah. There's this description I've heard you say where, like, you were a fighter. You were the one to always take up for your little brothers. How did that reputation come to be?

Well, growing up, you know, kids are cruel. They want to find something to pick on you about or whatever. Now, picking on me, I can laugh with you and joke with you. But if you make my little brother cry, I'm going to have a problem with that. So that's how the fights would start. When they'd pick on my brother too much and he'd cry and then you've got the reputation of a tough guy somebody not to play with i found out early that a lot of these guys that talk a lot can't fight yeah there's this scene in the movie where you and colman domingo's Divine G, are picking out costumes and talking about the program and acting and everything.

And in this scene, you relay your thoughts about who you are. And Colman Domingo as Divine G speaks first. Let's listen. What's up? You all right? Yeah. It's just my slings and arrows on the inside. And all this make-believe acting, college degrees, they don't really change the fact that I'm a gangster.

And that's my destiny. That's what's waiting for me on the outside. It's like Hamlet. All he wants is me marrying him. He'll go against the whole Greek army. But to what end? What I do know, if I don't know anything, is you're an artist.

This is just bringing out parts of yourself that has been hidden, you know, remained dormant. Just go for it. Trust it. That was a scene from the new movie Sing Sing, starring my guest Clarence Macklin, and directed by my guest Greg Cuidar. Clarence, what we are watching is you contending with the person that you think you

are. And I'm just really struck by you saying like your destiny is to be this person that you have been. Was that something that you had to do in real life, contend with the person that you are, and then the person that you ultimately would find out is inside of you? Yes, that's definitely reflective of how I used to think at a time in my life. All the males I saw did the same thing. All the males I saw had pretty much the same outcome. It's pretty rare for anyone to escape it. So this is how young men get to feel as though this must be my destiny. It must be who I'm supposed to be. Until you're presented with other possibilities that you could become something other than this,

until that happens, you may live out that destiny rather than challenge it with other realities, other possibilities. When did it become true or real to you that even what Coleman's character is saying to you here, you're an artist? When did that, like, seep into who you were and who you are? Well, the artist part was like a reconnection

because when I was younger, like in the movie, I was telling Coleman I used to draw, I used to paint, I used to create with my hands a lot. However, that's not what the cool kids were doing. And I was built like I should be playing football or basketball or something like that. And that's what a lot of the kids my age were more into. And this way, I guess they built their little team camaraderie around with the uniforms and all that. But I'd rather do things on my own, like paint by myself and draw by myself.

And being that that wasn't the popular thing to do, I kind of suppressed that side of me until I reconnected with this rehabilitation through the arts program and began to reawaken that artist person. Greg, I want to talk to you a little bit about grief, because there is a scene, without giving it away, Coleman Domingo's character Divine G's best and only real friend in prison dies. What did you learn about the processing of grief within prison walls? Because I felt like that scene and that actual storyline offered a different way in ways that I hadn't seen before to be able to articulate what that feels like from the inside. of how to render it. Even in the edit, I kept on going like, maybe we didn't get it right.

And I think as I look back on it, I think part of it is that it's missing all of the rituals we have available to us on the outside to grieve someone's death. The wake, a funeral, an actual tombstone, and generally outside of this program, inside, none of that is available. There are bars, steel doors, walls that separate you from even seeing with your own eyes that someone is truly gone. The compartmentalization that happens around death is very stark and binary.

There's no room for the normal grieving process. And if you're shown to grieve or to weep, that would be viewed as some kind of weakness. And so, the way that that plays out is hard to capture on film because we're like, wait, wait, wait. In our logic as an audience, we're used to seeing these normal steps unfold and they're not there. And I remember it so vividly when we were volunteers, Clint and I were, we were teaching a class. Anytime there was ever an empty chair, immediately the tenor in the room would shift like, is that chair empty for some benign reason? Or is that chair empty for something very awful, you know? And it's a hard thing to process because you don't have the normal tools that are available to the rest of society.

Clarence, this is familiar to you because you've lived it. Yes, it is. But the part that RTA shows that I think that no other prison shows or TV shows or movies have shown is that we gather around our brothers when things like that happen. There's a humanity amongst us that all those rituals have been taken from us. We still have our own instrument, which is our physical bodies. And we use that.

If you're just joining us, my guests are director Greg Cuidar and actor Clarence Macklin from the new film Sing Sing, which follows a group of men incarcerated at a maximum security prison and who find hope and redemption through a theater program. We'll continue our conversation after a short break. This is Fresh Air. Clarence, I also was struck by your character, and I'm wondering if it's real life, to really infuse humor into a way to cope.

And one of the things you all wanted to do is to create a comedy. Right. Which is sort of a mechanism. It's a way to laugh, to keep from crying. It's kind of a way to survive. A way to decompress sometimes. Sometimes the prison needs to decompress. There'd be a lot going on in prison.

And sometimes the whole prison needs to decompress. There'll be a lot going on in prison. And sometimes the whole prison needs to decompress. They may not even know it. But then you throw a comedy on it, and then you got 600 dudes laughing. That changes the temperature. I want to play a clip of some of the things you all do in the process of coming up with the idea for a play, and in particular, this really ambitious play about a time-traveling musical comedy. And you all are spitballing, and Paul Racey, who plays a group leader, Brent speaks first. Let's listen. You guys decide if we're going to take a vote here, or anybody else have any ideas? Brent speaks first. Let's listen. mean by serious though i mean like every day we're dealing with trauma drama every day we got tragedy i mean i think population just might appreciate a comedy how you guys feel about that

i ain't got a kind of right comments i got satires you never did it before what kind of comedy would you propose i mean would it be a broad comedy or something more low-key? I don't know. I'm just talking about making people laugh. Yeah, I understand, but I'm just trying to be more specific in terms of like what kind of comedy you want. I mean, that's just my opinion. How about a cowboy comedy? I always wanted to do a western, like Blazing Saddles or something. Egyptians. Egyptians? Comedies? We can sneak some Chase Band there. Hamlet. Hamlet in the comedy.

Hamlet in the comedy. You want to do something in the forest? Robin Hood or something like that? Be the band. Yeah. I'm out chasing.

Nightmare on Elm Street. Can I ask a question? Can someone name a comedy that contains all that that you just named? That was a scene from the film Sing Sing, directed by my guest Greg Cuidar and starring Clarence Macklin. And that was like a really great clip because it allowed us to see just the process, the brainstorming process. Which first off, is that how it really was or a variation of how it is? That is a variation of how we do it because we take suggestions from population.

We ask, what do you want to see? And what ultimately lands in the lap of the steering committee, the individuals inside the prison who are actually charged with the membership and putting things together. So everybody in the circle throws out ideas of what we want to do. And that's what that scene was indicative of, of how everyone's opinion is valuable. What you guys came up with was pretty fantastical.

But have you guys produced things that you were a part of that you just really loved? I like the very first play that I was in was called Straffer's Decision. It was another play written by a prisoner. And we had a lot of fun with that. It was another lighthearted, you know, something that eased the tension. What was it about? Strafford's decision was a love story. It was something akin to Romeo and Juliet, but it was more comical.

And that was really my first play ever being in. Actually, somebody had dropped out, and I got the opportunity to take their spot. What was your character? Well, at first, I had absolutely no lines. It's a Elizabethan play, so it's a lot of elaborate costumes, a lot of color. And I'm up on stage,

I'm in a very colorful top, and I'm just posturing. But I guess I postured really well because the director decided I may need one or two lines now. Now, when I got to one or two lines is when I got bit by the acting bug. Now I need to be the lead now. There's two lines.

You know, you talk about how, like, of course you can't see the audience. You only see the first row, and it's dark, and you're reciting your lines, and sometimes they're just silent because they're, like, enraptured. But other times you're fed by the energy of the audience, right? It's like a wave. You learn how to ride it. There's this moment in the film when Coleman's character is released from prison and he's walking out of those gates. And it's kind of a long walk to get to where you are Clarence and your character is waiting for him and um that moment of freedom is just written all over Coleman's face and you experienced that yourself what was your moment like your first walk

of freedom my first walk of freedom was similar to what you see in the movie. When I got out of prison, Nick and Dave from Saboteur Film were waiting outside for me, along with a friend of mine whose name was April Watson. There was three people waiting outside the gate for me. We was just wrapping up the rest of Dramatic Escape. So they filmed me coming out the gate. So it felt really good to have a support system in place to have someone on the outside waiting for you. And in reality, many of us don't. Many of us are driven to the bus station or the train station,

giving $40, and you better be on the train, the very first train out of here, or else we may arrest you again, trespassing. And by the time I came out in 2012, I had a lot more skills under my belt than I would have had had I not gone through RTA or had I not gotten a college degree. So I was a bit more prepared, and plus, I had a network of people, brothers and sisters who had already gone through RTA and now they're on the outside, creating opportunities for brothers like us that come out. Greg, I'm reflecting on this idea of rehabilitation because, I mean, it's the name of the real life

program. It's what prison theoretically is supposed to offer. But we're doing this interview because it's remarkable, this program. And these stories feel like, I mean, they feel like an exception and not the rule. They are. Is there hope here? I mean, because what you are showing us is a possibility for an answer to a bigger question, a bigger problem that we haven't really found solutions for. This idea of rehabilitating people through the arts. I mean, it's evident in the work of this program that has been around since 1996. And so many people have come home to beautiful lives that they have the tools and the community around them to flourish.

And, I mean, the results are quite staggering if you look at, you know, a very sad statistic in our country, which is our recidivism rates. You know, over 60% of people within five years of their release will go back inside. But graduates of this program, less than 3% ever go back to prison. And, you know, it is a very bold statistic, but I think the evidence in our film is a proof of its success, that the majority of our cast are alumni of this program, and you are seeing firsthand in the audience the fullness of themselves and their gifts. And, you know, you just trust as you watch this, that this process is working, because you're seeing it unfold in front of your eyes. Clarence Macklin and Greg Cuidar, thank you so much for this conversation. Thanks for having us.

It was a gift. Thank you. Director Greg Cuidar and actor Clarence Macklin from the film Sing Sing. The movie is in theaters now. After a short break, film critic Justin Chang reviews the independent drama Good One, which premiered at this year's Sundance Film Festival. This is Fresh Air.

Our film critic Justin Chang recommends the independent drama Good One, which premiered at this year's Sundance Film Festival and opens in theaters August 9th. It's the first feature written and directed by India Donaldson and stars James LeGros and Lily Collius as father and daughter on a camping trip that goes gradually and suspensively awry. Here's Justin's review. Too often, the month of August is regarded as a fallow period for movie going, after the big blockbusters of the summer, but before the awards contenders of the fall. But the aptly titled new movie, Good One, is a reminder that there are always smart,

interesting films being released, if you're willing to look beyond the obvious. As it turns out, looking beyond the obvious is something that the writer-director India Donaldson has a real knack for. In just 90 minutes, she tells a three-character story that appears simple enough on the surface, yet it's so sharp and engrossing that you might not immediately notice the deeper story taking shape underneath. Lily Collius plays 17-year-old Sam, who's going backpacking in the Catskills with her father, Chris. That's the terrific James LeGros in a too-rare leading role. They're supposed to be joined by Chris's oldest friend, Matt, and his teenage son, Dylan. But Matt winds up being the only one to come along. He and Dylan's mom are recently divorced, and Dylan isn't taking it well.

Chris himself has been divorced for a while, and he and Sam have a pretty harmonious relationship by comparison. They seem to get along even when they're bickering, as in this scene where Chris criticizes Sam's driving. Okay, so on this curve, just easy. as in this scene where Chris criticizes Sam's driving. Okay, so on this curve, just easy. Easy. Taking them easy.

Yeah, yeah. It's just sometimes it doesn't feel easy. Just driving. Okay, slow down a little bit. I'm going the speed limit. You're actually going five miles over. I'm not, and you always go like at least ten over. That is my privilege as father. She's a better driver than you, man.

That's because I taught her. Thank you, Matt. Take a left up here. Much of the movie consists of Sam listening quietly as Chris and Matt go on and on, reminiscing about old times, yet always finding new things to grouse about. Chris, a savvy outdoorsman, can't stop complaining about how badly Matt has overpacked for a three-day hiking trip. While the two men rarely ask Sam how she's doing

or feeling, they seem cool enough where it counts. Chris has long been supportive of his daughter's queer identity. She has a girlfriend whom she texts during the trip whenever she can get a cell phone signal. Matt tells Sam that she's wise beyond her years. Unlike all the other reckless, rebellious teenagers out there, she's a rare Good One in his book. Scene by scene, however, writer-director Donaldson paints a subtler picture of the dynamics at work. At times, Good One reminded me of Kelly Reichardt's quietly perceptive 2006 drama, Old Joy, which also squeezed a lot of emotional history into a fateful camping trip. You get the sense that Sam has traveled a bunch with her dad and Matt before,

and that she's long adjusted to her designated role. When the three of them share a motel room on their way up to the Catskills, it's Sam who instinctively rolls out her sleeping bag, without even being asked, leaving the two beds to the men. And once they reach their campsite, it's Sam who cooks dinner for the three of them, without complaint. The dynamics are complicated. Beneath the men's easygoing manner, there's an unmistakable air of condescension towards Sam, a sense that their appreciation of her is more conditional than genuine. If Sam resents them for any of this, she doesn't show it, at least not at first. Collius gives a beautifully understated performance. With very little effort, she can register everything from wry affection

to barely concealed exasperation. And Donaldson, working with the cinematographer Wilson Cameron, proves as keenly observant as her protagonist. She's alive to the beauty of the mountains, whether it's the sight of a majestic canyon or the sound of rushing water. Some of the movie's slow-simmering tension arises from your uncertainty about what might be lurking nearby, whether it's a bear in search of food or three young men they cross paths with on the hiking trail. But Good One isn't one of those movies

in which a journey into the wilderness spirals into horror. The dangers that Donaldson introduces are of a more intimate and perhaps more insidious nature. There comes a moment in the story when everything changes, and it's at once surprising and unsurprising, all too believable and, in the moment, perhaps a little contrived. But that hardly matters. What matters is how Sam responds to this sudden shift, and Collius shows her unpacking that response almost in real time,

and with a nearly wordless intensity. Good One has the concision of a sharply etched short story, but what happens by the end can't be easily summed up. Sam won't soon forget the lessons of this particular trip, and neither will we. Justin Chang is a film critic for The New Yorker. He reviewed the new movie, Good One. Fresh Air's executive producer is Danny Miller. Our technical director and engineer is Audrey Bentham. Our interviews and reviews are produced and edited by Phyllis Myers, Roberta Shorrock, Anne-Marie Maldonado, Sam Brigger, Lauren Krenzel, Teresa Madden, Monique Nazareth, Susan Nyakundi, and Joel Wolfram. Our digital media producer is Molly C.V. Nesper.

And we'd like to welcome our new visual and digital producer, Sabrina Siewert. Thea Chaloner directed today's show. With Terry Gross, I'm Tanya Mosley. Who's claiming power this election? What's happening in battleground states? And why do we still have the electoral college? All this month, the ThruLine podcast is asking big questions about our democracy and going back in time to answer them. Listen now to the ThruLine podcast from NPR.