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“The Film Hits a Person’s Heart”: Colman Domingo on Sing Sing
Sing Sing (Courtesy A24) A24’s Sing Sing follows a group of inmates participating in the Rehabilitation Through the Arts program, which offers incarcerated men the chance to produce theatrical productions while in prison. A true story developed by co-writers and producers Clint Bentley and Greg Kwedar (who also directed) and RTA alumni Clarence “Divine Eye” Maclin and John “Divine G” Whitfield, the film stars Oscar nominees Colman Domingo and Paul Raci alongside an ensemble of formerly incarcerated men who participated in the RTA program, including Maclin, who plays himself along with other RTA alumni.
With incredible performances from Domingo (who earned his second consecutive Oscar nomination for best actor, following 2023’s Rustin) and Maclin (also Oscar-nominated for best adapted screenplay with Bentley, Kedar and Whitfield), the film is as much of a surprising portrait of life in prison as it is a testament to the power of the arts (theater in particular) as a way to expose vulnerabilities and tenderness among a group of men.
Domingo, who also served as an executive producer on the film, spoke with me about his onscreen collaboration with Maclin, how he immersed himself into an ensemble of actors playing themselves and why Sing Sing ranks as the most meaningful and rewarding project he’s been a part of in his career.
Filmmaker: I was lucky to see you, Clarence and a few of your co-stars participate in a Q&A after a Sing Sing screening in November. I was really taken aback by how emotional everyone in the room was—not just the audience who had watched the film, but also you and your collaborators. I’ve heard that tears were the norm throughout this campaign. Have you ever experienced a project like this, that’s still such an emotional punch for you so long after you completed it?
Domingo: I think it begins with the audience, because we’re responding to the room. It has the same feeling, at least in my experience, as theater. There have been many screenings where people are so moved by what they’ve experienced, and they’re sitting there awestruck. We have to go out there and be where the audience is, to take in their hearts and feelings and be one with them. I think that’s why it’s more emotional for us, because of how the film hits a person’s heart. We have to take care of them; we just invited people into this extraordinary circle.
Filmmaker: When did you first meet the ensemble you’d be joining, many of whom are playing themselves?
Domingo: It was all pretty organic. We first started by meeting Clarence Maclin. First it was just me, Greg [Kwedar, director, producer and co-writer] and Clint [Bentley, producer and co-writer) talking about ideas of what we can make and what was important to us. They suggested that Clarence would be an interesting candidate to actually play Clarence Maclin. We got on a Zoom and struck up a real, down-to-earth conversation about what was important to us in the making of this film. The next person I met was [my character] John “Divine G” Whitfield, very briefly on a Zoom. I didn’t meet everyone else until the first day of shooting. We knew we had a pretty restricted timeline, because we were only shooting over the course of 18 days, but any theater practitioner knows that you can go pretty deep pretty quickly when it comes to exercises and sharing of yourself, when you have that safe space of a theater. I like to think that because of the conceit of the theater that was in the center of the film, we were pretty vulnerable with each other to do this work.
Filmmaker: Did that casting decision of having the RTA alumni playing themselves in the film raise the stakes for you as an actor?
Domingo: I’ve never done anything like that. It was all a great experiment, in a way, with some really deep and detailed intentions, but I think [none of us had ever] experienced that. I never worked with fellow actors who’ve had training as an actor, but also were people who had lived this experience and challenged me to make sure that I wasn’t too performative, to fold myself in with these men and their experience. They were the real deal right there—I wanted to meet them where they were. Just as they were playing a version of themselves on the inside, I felt like I had to tap into a version of myself and find the Divine G in me. It was more raw and authentic and a little bit more strict.
Filmmaker: Do you think their experiences benefitted your performance? Were you able to turn to them for guidance in terms of how you approached the character?
Domingo: I never had a moment of interrogating them about their experience. They’ve gone through that; I didn’t think that that was necessary for me. What was important was to share and really lean into the work we’re trying to build, getting to know each other and then letting that inform the work. And, honestly, I feel like it would be too invasive to ask what their experience was like in prison. Whatever we had conversations about, it was always very organic. I never wanted to appear to be an outsider or look at them as an anthropological study. I wanted to get to know them as men to create something unique together.
Filmmaker: I recall Sean “Dino” Johnson saying in the Q&A how traumatic it was to return to a prison to film this movie. I cannot imagine how vulnerable that must have been for some of your cast mates. Is that something you witnessed on set?
Domingo: It was very private for each one—no one fully expressed it. I always saw them as actors, my co-stars, and that’s it. It was never about looking at their psychology or how they were approaching the work. I just knew that they were game. We had so many moments of joy and great camaraderie, and things that we did off-screen that ended up on-screen, like the breakdancing moment. Those are organic moments happening because we do have a shared history of being men from the inner city. I’m always singing songs [on set], and somebody would catch onto the song I was singing [and it became a game of] guess that song. Who sang it? What year was it? That was part of that shared history, so there was never any otherness.
Filmmaker: The onscreen relationship between yourself and Clarence Maclin was really beautiful. How did that develop?
Domingo: In our early discussions, we talked about what was important to us, and the thing that was very important to me was showing tenderness between these men. Whether or not they could say it fully, that’s what I believe that they shared in this very dangerous space of a prison. They held a space for each other to be vulnerable and do the work of theater, using their imagination, research, history and play. Similarly, I wanted to set up an environment to support what these guys have actually achieved, then they leaned into it. It never seemed like a task that they were not up for. For Clarence, I don’t think it’s in his DNA to feel like he’s not up to the task. He was joyful and ready to create. What he didn’t know, he would ask or just observe. These men have gone through experiences that I can’t even imagine, but they know how to show up independently to get the work done. Through the Rehabilitation Through the Arts program [they did] extraordinary work on and for themselves, so much so that there’s a less than 3% recidivism rate among those who go through that program, compared to 60% nationwide. I just wanted to set up an environment to support all the beautiful, tender, joyful, thoughtful, humanistic work that they did.
Filmmaker: The vulnerability and tenderness on screen was really powerful to witness, because it’s so rare to see real and authentic moments in which men are emotional, letting their guards down. Was that something you recognized as necessary for the film?
Domingo: I thought that was a key part of the story. How do we re-examine these relationships that men have? I never see those relationships on screen, where men can be tender and vulnerable and open to each other, and has nothing to do with sexuality whatsoever. There’s an active revolution to show that men can be that way. We can have spaces that support that, it’s good for our mental health, families and societies. That’s what they were doing in [this program]: They were holding space where people would be as tender and as vulnerable as they needed to be, because it was the key to liberate their souls.
Filmmaker: So much of Sing Sing is about how acting, as a craft, builds empathy for others while also allowing someone to tap into their own vulnerabilities. It may even allow audiences to fully grasp the mysteries of your vocation. Did the film allow you to examine your relationship to acting? Were there ever moments when you thought, “Oh God, I love being an actor”?
Domingo: Hmm… [Laughs]
Filmmaker: That’s kind of a presumptuous question, so if the answer is no, that’s also fine! [Laughs]
Domingo: I’ve been a working artist for over 30 years, and I take my work gently and seriously. It’s something that I love to interrogate, and I wouldn’t want to make a flat statement that diminishes all the other parts of it. My job and career are beautiful and frustrating. It makes you want to scream, it makes you so proud. It makes you want to quit, it can be quite rewarding. When you have a task, like the idea of being a producer and actor to tell a story that’s really meaningful and can move the needle on our humanity, and [that includes] groups of men doing incredible work to change their lives… It’s rewarding. If anything, this film has given me a stronger voice as a producer and as a lead actor, to say, “I can help make films like this that really does shift the culture in some way, shape or form.” It makes me proud and useful.
Filmmaker: You mentioned the statistics about the RTA program’s success. But I think this film also proves how access to the arts is so vital. Why do you think arts education should be not just encouraged, but also protected?
Domingo: Art teaches you many different things. It’s not flagrant. It helps establish empathy, gives you purpose, builds character and community. Art is key to our survival. And when we take arts away from people—especially poor, Brown and Black people—you create pathways to destruction in our society. When people don’t have that access, they can’t have places where they can put a feeling, to express or give words to it. That’s why I can absolutely see a pathway from lack of access to art to the prison-industrial complex. Sing Sing is not inherently a political film in any way, or telling anyone how to feel about the prison system—it’s telling you that there are people in there.
