Entertainment
With shocking secret footage, prison doc ‘The Alabama Solution' should outrage the nation
PARK CITY, Utah — I’ve been recommending “The Alabama Solution” to everyone I meet since I landed at the Sundance Film Festival last week — but only under my breath.
That’s because Andrew Jarecki and Charlotte Kaufman’s bombshell investigation of the Alabama prison system, which premiered here Tuesday, was screened in advance for press under strict embargo. Understandable, once you realize that the film’s key sources are inmates themselves. Much of “The Alabama Solution,” which reports on inhumane living conditions, forced labor and widespread violence against the state’s incarcerated population, is comprised largely of footage captured by inmates using contraband cellphones, offering one of the most shocking, visceral depictions of our carceral state ever put to film.
The result, in which brave inmate activists Melvin Ray and Robert Earl Council leak vital information, and the filmmakers chase down leads with shoe-leather doggedness, should outrage the nation. And encourage us to reexamine our own backyards: As co-producer Alex Duran reminded me, California voters recently rejected a ballot measure that would have banned forced prison labor, and incarcerated firefighters were instrumental to the battle against the recent L.A. wildfires.
Jarecki and Kaufman sat down with me at the L.A. Times Studios at Sundance to discuss the risks their sources face with the film’s release, what they’d like to ask Alabama Gov. Kay Ivey and more. The following has been edited and condensed.
Before we talk about the genesis of the film, I wanted to start with your interest in the subject matter of the film: mass incarceration, the criminal justice system, prison conditions. What was your level of interest in that topic before “The Alabama Solution”?
Andrew Jarecki: I remember going to see Jesse Friedman at Dannemora Correctional Facility when I was making “Capturing the Friedmans,” and the experience of going into a maximum-security facility in upstate New York was such a surprise to me — just the level of lockdown, the level of closure to the outside world and certainly to journalists. So it always intrigued me. And then I’d made films about various aspects of the justice system. So when I went down to Alabama in 2019, just to sort of go to Montgomery and see what I would see, I met this prison chaplain and I realized that they went into the prisons and did barbecues and revival meetings. I thought. “Maybe there’s an opportunity to go there and learn something.” And I don’t think I thought about it as a film up front. I just was curious. But then when it became clear that there was a possibility for us to film, Charlotte and I got together and and went down there and we had this really extraordinary chance to go into a place that is normally absolutely closed to the media and to the public.
Charlotte, I wonder if you could talk about the story of that day at the barbecue. I’m curious, did you have a kind of vision of what you thought you were doing before you arrived that day? Obviously, once the prisoners start coming up to you and and saying, “There’s a story here that they’re not showing you,” that changed it, but did you have a different vision going in?
Charlotte Kaufman: I think we went in with open minds. You rarely get the opportunity to go into a prison facility in Alabama, and I think we saw this as a great opportunity to be able to speak with some of the men, to just observe what we could around the facility, to learn what we could. But very quickly it became clear that there were only certain conversations that we were allowed to have and that we weren’t allowed to speak to the men alone. And I think that lack of access sort of compelled us to keep investigating.
After the first scene in the film, there’s a title card that explains that after your visit, you started getting outreach from inmates within the prison on contraband cellphones. And the footage from those calls that they’re sending you is at the core of the film, and it’s part of what makes it so shocking and outrageous. Take me back to the first outreach that you got. What was your reaction?
Jarecki: I mean, we were surprised when we went in there at the proliferation of cellphones. The fact that Alabama’s prisons are so extraordinarily understaffed and under-resourced means that the prisons are often operating with [a] skeleton crew of people. So you could have a 1,400-bed facility and that normally would be staffed with a few hundred officers. And maybe on a weekend there are 20 officers there. So that indicates that there’s a very low level of understanding even by correctional officers. There are large areas of the prison that they don’t spend any time in. So the ability to speak to these men on these cellphones, which are, in my view, largely brought in by the officers — there’s a big trade in cellphones — that was just a surprise to us. As much as I think it has been people seeing the film and saying, how is that even possible that they have these phones?
One of the things that watching it like really disturbed, upset me were just what they would show you about what the living conditions were like. Flooded floors, overflowing toilets, rats everywhere. Were you that shocked? Was that your response when you started seeing those images coming from your sources on the inside?
Kaufman: The Department of Justice had put out a very in-depth report about their own investigation into Alabama’s prison system. But it’s a very different experience reading the facts and reading the findings, versus actually seeing it. There is something that makes you really understand what it’s like to live in that environment when you can actually see it. And I think that’s why prisons are so secret. That’s why we’re not allowed to see in. And we can only read papers about what’s actually happening. Because when you do see it, it becomes a lot less tolerable.
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Over the course of this six-year process, you formed relationships with your main sources inside the facilities. Now, with the film coming out — and as the film explores — they are at risk of reprisal from correctional officers and higher up. What were your ethical concerns about revealing their specific identities, and what were your conversations like with them about the risks and their ultimate willingness to undertake those risks?
Jarecki: We thought a lot about that issue, because obviously the more you get to know people that are in that situation, the more you recognize their vulnerability and the more you feel connected to them. There’s no avoiding that. And it was kind of a beautiful thing about the film that you get to see the humanity in these people who are often seen by society through a very different lens. So we always thought about it and spoke extensively to them about it. These are men who had been working on their own for many years to get the word out on the crisis in this prison system. So when we first started talking, they were very clear — we were part of their agenda, in a way. It was very important for them to do this work. And so we were kind of there to ride along. So it was a symbiotic process. They’re very well known to the authorities inside and they have been retaliated against in the past. So we’re concerned. We continue to be concerned about it. And there’s been an organization that’s created a defense committee to help them if that does come to pass.
I wanted to talk a little bit about your qualitative experiences as filmmakers with this unique process where your sources are separated from you by the divide of the prison walls, but you’re talking to them regularly. This struck me during the narrative about the prison strike and then the breaking of the strike: You’re both at one level getting more information than the general public is getting through the news media, but you’re also not close enough to it to really feel like there’s any kind of control that you can exert. What is that like for you emotionally or creatively as filmmakers?
Kaufman: It’s a very intense experience to follow along and watch this incredibly inspiring and moving movement of the strike but then also watch how the state responds. It’s a privilege to be able to have these extended conversations with all of our participants. But at the same time, that’s why the film is so urgent, because they’re at risk and they’re doing their activism regardless of this film. And that’s also what puts them at risk. They’ve been retaliated against for their activism for like two decades now.
Jarecki: These are men who have been the victims of violence in the system and often violence by people who are allegedly supposed to look out for their safety. And so the ability to have that kind of up-close contact with them and recognize the bravery that they’re showing in being able to share this, it’s such a high level of trust that had to be established for them to allow us to sort of ride along and see this incredibly unique kind of protest. But it’s really important to recognize, despite the violence that they have been subjected to, all of their work is nonviolent. They’re extremely thoughtful about the importance of nonviolent action. And the fact that the state, which has all the machinery of government and all kinds of special military equipment, can’t find a way to respond to them except through violence is really an example of how the system is pretty topsy-turvy.
The title of the film comes from an oft-used phrase by Alabama Gov. Kay Ivey, who is an interviewed in the film. If you got the chance to get her on the record on camera, what would you ask her?
Jarecki: The first question I would ask her is whether she visits the prisons. And I’m quite sure that she would say, “Well, on one occasion…,” something like that. We probably would both be eager to have that conversation. But my first question would be to try to really understand how insulated she must be from what’s happening to her own citizens of her own state, for her to just keep proposing solutions that are not solutions.
Kaufman: I would ask her to give us access. We were able to make this film because we had some really brave individuals who took great risks to have conversations with us, to share material with us. But I would ask her, “What would it take for you to actually allow transparency and for the media to be able to come in and talk to the men freely and to bring cameras in freely?”
Jarecki: There’s a fact that we’ve sort of been talking about how to convey. It’s sort of an extraordinary statistic that I’m pretty sure that governor doesn’t know. Of many statistics I think the governor’s not familiar with. But when you learn about the work programs, essentially forced labor that happens inside the system, of the 20,000 men who are in that system, many of them are caused to work inside the prisons, outside the prisons, on road crews around the state and even at McDonald’s and many other companies. The state is putting them to work and the corrections department is gathering the money for that work and the men are getting a tiny sliver of that. What’s extraordinary is that the people who are allowed to work and who are considered safe enough to be in the community interacting — you see some of them in the film walking around the state fair, walking around the governor’s mansion — those people are less likely, statistically, to be paroled than the people who are at the next highest level of concern for safety. People who are considered safer are less likely to be let out, arguably because they are more valuable as people who can be put to work. … I don’t think anybody’s doing that math because I don’t think it’s of great concern to them, partly because they too are isolated from being able to see what’s happening in their own system.
Mexican writer/director Michel Franco explores the dynamics of money, class and the border through the spiky, unsettling erotic drama “Dreams,” starring Jessica Chastain and Isaac Hernández, a Mexican ballet dancer and actor.
In the languidly paced “Dreams,” Franco presents two individuals in love (or lust?) who experiment with wielding the power at their fingertips against their lover, the violence either state or sexual in nature. The film examines the push-pull of attraction and rejection on a scope both intimate and global, finding the uneasy space where the two meet.
Chastain stars as Jennifer McCarthy, a wealthy San Francisco philanthropist and socialite who runs a foundation that supports a ballet school in Mexico City. But Franco does not center her experience, but that of Fernando (Hernández), whom we meet first, escaping from the back of a box truck filled with migrants crossing the U.S./Mexico border, abandoned in San Antonio on a 100-degree day.
His journey is one of extreme survival, but his destination is the lap of luxury, a modernist San Francisco mansion where he makes himself at home, and where he’s clearly been at home before. A talented ballet dancer who has already once been deported, he’s risked everything to be with his lover, Jennifer, though as a high-profile figure who works with her father and brother (Rupert Friend), she’d rather keep her affair with Fernando under wraps. He’s her dirty little secret, but he’s also a human being who refuses to be kept in the shadows.
As Jennifer and Fernando attempt to navigate what it looks like for them to be together, it seems that larger forces will shatter their connection. In reality, the only real danger is each other.
The storytelling logic of “Dreams” is predicated on watching these characters move through space, the way we watch dancers do. Franco offers some fascinating parallels to juxtapose the wildly varying experiences of Fernando and Jennifer — he enters the States in a box truck, almost dying of thirst and heat stroke; she arrives in Mexico on a private plane, but they both enter empty homes alone, melancholy. During a rift in their relationship, Fernando retreats to a motel while working at a bar, drinking red wine out of plastic cups with a friend in his humble room, ignoring Jennifer’s calls, while she eats alone in her darkened dining room, drinking red wine out of crystal.
These comparisons aren’t exactly nuanced, but they are stark, and for most of the film, Franco just asks us to watch them move together, and apart, in a strange, avoidant pas de deux. Often dwarfed by architecture, their distinctive bodies in space are more important than the sparse dialogue that only serves to fill in crucial gaps in storytelling.
Cinematographer Yves Cape captures it all in crisp, saturated images. The lack of musical score (beyond diegetic music in the ballet scenes) contributes to the dry, flat affect and tone, as these characters enact increasing cruelties — both emotional and physical — upon each other as a means of trying to contain their lover, until it escalates into something truly dark and disturbing.
Franco, frankly, loses the plot of “Dreams” in the third act. What is a rather staid drama about the weight of social expectations on a relationship becomes a dramatically unexpected game of vengeance as Jennifer and Fernando grasp at any power they have over the other. She fetishizes him and he returns the favor, violently.
Ultimately, Franco jettisons his characters for the sake of unearned plot twists that leave the viewer feeling only icky. These events aren’t illuminating, and feel instead like a bleak betrayal. The circumstances of the story might be “timely,” but “Dreams” doesn’t help us understand the situation better, leaving us in the dark about what we’re supposed to take away from this story of sex, violence, money and the state. Anything it suggests we already know.
‘Dreams’
(In English and Spanish with English subtitles)
1.5 stars (out of 4)
No MPA rating (some nudity, sex scenes, swearing, sexual violence)
Running time: 1:35
How to watch: In theaters Feb. 27
A bartender who worked at Soho House’s exclusive Soho Warehouse in downtown Los Angeles is alleging a supervisor at the posh membership club and hotel drugged and raped her, according to a lawsuit filed in Los Angeles Superior Court on Wednesday.
The woman, who filed as Jane Doe, said in her complaint that she was “subjected to repeated sexual advances and unwelcomed physical touching” by one of her supervisors, Leonard Marcelo Vichique Maya, immediately after she began working as a bartender at Berenjak, the club’s restaurant, in September 2025.
Doe is suing Vichique Maya, Soho House, Soho House Los Angeles and Soho Warehouse for sexual harassment, retaliation and other claims..
“This is as egregious an instance of callous corporate indifference to workplace sexual violence that anyone can experience,” said her attorney Nick Yasman of Los Angeles-based West Coast Trial Lawyers in a statement.
Representatives for Soho House and Vichique Maya were not immediately available for comment.
Doe has further alleged that Vichique Maya made “numerous comments” about her appearance, propositioned her to be his “hook-up buddy” and told her that she “would be pregnant by now” had they met earlier, all within earshot of her supervisors and colleagues.
After two weeks on the job, Doe said that she reported Vichique Maya’s conduct to two male supervisors, including Soho House’s floor manager and food and beverage director, states the complaint, but “neither took any semblance of corrective or investigatory action.”
According to the suit, Doe claims that despite “his pattern of harassing behavior and complaints,” the company, did not address his alleged misconduct. ”
She claims his behavior escalated after a “team-bonding” work event on Sept. 13, where Doe said she became disoriented after drinking with supervisors and co-workers, eventually losing consciousness, and woke up naked in Vichique Maya’s apartment.
“Paralyzed and speechless despite her consciousness slowly returning, Plaintiff was condemned to simply watch in horror as [sic] MARCELO repeatedly raped her inanimate body,” states the suit.
The next day, Doe said that she reported to her floor manager that Vichique Maya had “sexually assaulted her.”
She said her general manager “confirmed” that he “appeared to be preying” on her during the work event, telling her that “These things happen between coworkers.”
When she proclaimed that she could no longer work with Vichique Maya,” she said the general manager dismissed her concerns telling her: “I have a restaurant to run; I can’t have it blow up on me.”
Despite informing three managers that she was “raped,” Doe said she was continuously scheduled to work shifts with Vichique Maya during which he repeatedly sexually harassed her.
In December, Doe filed a complaint with Soho House human resources, and she was assured that an investigation would be opened and “immediate corrective action” taken.
However, during the investigation, Doe said that she was placed on indefinite leave while Vichique Maya continued working. A month later, she was informed the company had completed its investigation and found her report of rape “was uncorroborated” and he “would not be disciplined.”
In February, the plaintiff said that she was forced to quit her job.
One of the first, exclusive members-only social clubs, Soho House debuted in London in 1995 and quickly became the bolt-hole of choice for celebrities and the deep-pocketed. It expanded globally with 48 houses in 19 countries.
It drew high-profile investors, including Ron Burkle through his investment fund Yucaipa.
In 2021, the company filed for an initial public offering on the New York Stock Exchange, but it has faced financial challenges. .
Last year, Soho House went private, selling itself to a group of investors including Apollo Global Management and actor Ashton Kutcher, who also joined its board of directors, at a $2.7-billion valuation.
Movie Reviews
MOVIE REVIEWS: “Mercy,” “Return to Silent Hill,” “Sentimental Value” & “In Cold Light” – Valdosta Daily Times
“Mercy”
(Thriller/Crime: 1 hour, 39 minutes)
Starring: Chris Pratt, Rebecca Ferguson, Kali Reis
Director: Timur Bekmambetov
Rated: PG-13 (Violence, bloody images, strong language, drug content and teen smoking)
Movie Review:
“Mercy” is a science fiction movie based on one of the more common themes of moviedom lately, artificial intelligence (AI). This crime thriller cleverly creates an intriguing story using technology and the justice system, yet it fails to be consistently interesting and intelligent throughout. The conclusion is less significant than the initial setup, as the concluding scenes become typical action sequences.
Detective Chris Raven (Pratt) of the LA Police Department is a huge supporter of the city’s new judicial courtroom. Crimes are now judged by an AI program (Ferguson) in the Mercy Court. The court is run by an artificial program that makes decisions based on all of the evidence before it without any prejudice. Detective Raven is all for this system until he is convicted of killing his wife. Now he must use all of the data, including the AI‘s ability to tap into everyone’s electronic devices, security cameras, and even into government files, within reason, to prove he did not murder his wife.
Mercy is an interesting movie. It entertains throughout, even when the story gets sloppy and characters’ actions are irrational. This mainly occurs during the final scenes. The movie tries too hard to insert unneeded narrative twists. This is disappointing because the story is interesting. What makes it fascinating is that it happens in real time. This is the most brilliant facet.
All the other theatrics are unnecessary. Director Timur Bekmambetov (“Profile,” 2018; “Wanted,” 2008) and “Mercy’s” producers should have just kept the ending simple, no plot twists or superfluous action sequences.
Grade: C (This flick needs some mercy. Let the trial begin.)
“Return to Silent Hill”
(Horror: 1 hour, 46 minutes)
Starring: Jeremy Irvine, Hannah Emily Anderson and Robert Strange
Director: Christophe Gans
Rated: R (Bloody violent content, strong language and brief drug use.)
Movie Review:
“Return to Silent Hill” is about one man’s quest to return to the love of his life. The problem is she has moved on to the afterlife. Meanwhile, audiences lose part of their life watching this movie, which is unlike any of the two prequels in this series. This one is a psychological horror that bores.
Artist James Sunderland (Irvine) decides to return to Silent Hill, a place where many people died during a devastating illness that nearly enveloped the entirety of the city’s population. What is left there is a horror show of freakish creatures, all with violent intent. Still, Sunderland searches for the love of his life, Mary Crane (Anderson).
Think of this movie as a slow suicide, where a guy goes back to retrieve his dead girlfriend. To do so, he must travel to the modern land of the dead that Silent Hill has become. This one is a type of swan song by the main character, and the movie becomes less scary while lackluster romantic notions wander aimlessly.
Grade: D (Do not return to see this.)
“Sentimental Value”
(Drama: 2 hours, 13 minutes)
Starring: Renate Reinsve, Stellan Skarsgård, Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas and Elle Fanning
Director: Joachim Trier
Rated: R (Language, sexual reference, nudity and thematic elements)
Movie Review:
“Sentimental Value” is a Norwegian film that won the Grand Prix in France’s Cannes Film Festival and was nominated for nine Academy Awards, including Best Motion Picture. It is a solid drama filled with symbolism and family connections. It is brilliant performances by a talented cast under the direction of Joachim Trier (“The Worst Person in the World,” 2021).
This screenplay is about Gustav Borg (Skarsgård). He is a father, grandfather and a famed film director. He stayed away from his two daughters, actress Nora Borgwhile (Reinsve) and historian Agnes Borg Pettersen (Lilleaas), while he was creating works as a filmmaker. The director comes back into the lives of his daughters after the death of their mother. Their reunion leads to a rediscovery of their bond at their family home in Oslo.
Stellan Skarsgård is always a solid actor. He takes his roles and makes them tangible characters that seem like you know them, even when they’re speaking a foreign language. That is the quality of his act and why he gets nominated for multiple awards each season.
“Sentimental Value” is a valuable movie filled with enriching sentiment. It is an enjoyable film for those who value a good drama. The acting and original writing alone make the movie worth it. “Sentimental Value” starts in a very simple way, but everything in between, even when low-key, remains potent. Joachim Trier and writer Eskil Vogt have worked together on multiple projects such as “The Worst Person in the World” (2021). Their pairing is once again worthy.
Grade: A- (Any motive valuable movie.)
“In Cold Light ”
(Crime: 1 hour , 36 minutes)
Starring: Maika Monroe, Allan Hawco and Troy Kotsur
Director: Maxime Giroux
Rated: R (Violence, bloody images, strong language and drug material)
Movie Review:
“In Cold Light” sticks to a very straightforward story, primarily taking place over a short period. The problem is the story leaves one in the cold. Audiences have to guess what is being communicated because this movie uses American Sign Language (ASL) without subtitles. For those moviegoers who do not know ASL, they are left deciphering characters’ actions and facial expressions during some pivotal scenes.
Ava Bly (Monroe) attempts to start a legit life after prison. Her life changes when Ava’s twin, Tom Bly (Jesse Irving) is murdered while seated next to her. As her brother’s killers pursue her, Ava must evade law enforcement, which contains some crooked cops led by Bob Whyte (Hawco).
For a brief moment, this movie hits its exceptional moment when Oscar-recipient Helen Hunt enters the picture as a motherly Claire, a crime boss who seems more like a social worker/psychologist. Her long scene is wasted as it arrives too late.
French Canadian director Maxime Giroux’s style has potential in his first English-language film, but it does not fit a wayward narrative. A rarity, this crime drama has characters commit many dumb actions at once.
Moreover, Giroux (“Félix et Meira,” 2014) and writer Patrick Whistler forget to let their audiences in on their story. They allow much to get lost in translation, especially during heated conversations between Monroe’s Ava and her father, Will Bly, played by Academy Award-winning actor Troy Kotsur (“CODA,” 2021).
Grade: C- (Just cold and dark.)
More movie reviews online at www.valdostadailytimes.com.
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