At California's maximum-security Folsom State Prison, members of the public are sometimes invited to participate in four-day group therapy sessions designed to dismantle the emotional armor encasing men of all ages and ethnicities, from all walks of life. The confluence of convicts and outsiders lends depth, and some incongruities.
"I haven't grieved for my sister … I don't know how," says Kiki, who has served 17 years for murder and robbery. "I want to feel what it feels like to mourn. … I don't want to feel like I can't feel anymore. I want to be able to cry because my sister died. I want to be able to feel because I can't hug my mom. I want to feel like me, I don't want to be afraid of that. I don't want to have to pull back."
It's not as simple as saying it. The men circle around, encouraging actual feelings -- and not just the wishes or the words -- to surface. It isn't pretty. It's excruciating, and beautiful. This is an intimate documentary, and it's a privilege to see it.