I knew what Music From the Big House was going to be about, in a very general sense, and being a blues fan I was looking forward to it. I'd never heard of Rita Chiarelli but I became a fan very quickly; her passion for the blues and her own craft is genuine and contagious. As you learn the history of Angola Prison and the individual stories of the inmates you kind of lapse into feeling sorry for these men. The whole time I was trying to remind myself that these inmates were serving life terms for a reason, and without being told what crime they had each committed almost made it worse as I imagined every heinous crime in the book.
But as the movie went on, I became so engaged with these men's stories that the fact that they were imprisoned almost fell to the wayside. They were funny and gentle and seemed like normal people and the dynamic there between the people I was witnessing and the fact that they were convicted felons created a very real tension that kept me invested in the story. For any fan of the blues, watching the inmates perform with Chiarelli was incredibly raw and emotionally visceral. When these guys are belting out lyrics about death and loneliness and redemption, specifically on the Chiarelli-penned "Lay My Bones To Rest," you believe every word they sing. It feels real, feels so absolutely honest and heartfelt that you can't help but be enraptured by their performances and feel like a part of the experience. They croon like the condemned men they are, the shadows of their sentences hanging over their heads like vulture.
That kind of emotion can't be faked, can't be bought, but can only come from experience. They're doomed and they know it, and that raw, emotional,cathartic release is refreshing in a world of bubble-gum pop stars and flavor-of-the-month radio hits. It offers a constant gut check on the nature of forgiveness and who should be forgiven, and there's no way to leave the movie without conflicting emotions. These men have nowhere to go but up, and witnessing these seemingly changed men, men who seem absolutely peaceful and at peace with themselves, bear their souls and stories is beautifully haunting.
But as the movie went on, I became so engaged with these men's stories that the fact that they were imprisoned almost fell to the wayside. They were funny and gentle and seemed like normal people and the dynamic there between the people I was witnessing and the fact that they were convicted felons created a very real tension that kept me invested in the story. For any fan of the blues, watching the inmates perform with Chiarelli was incredibly raw and emotionally visceral. When these guys are belting out lyrics about death and loneliness and redemption, specifically on the Chiarelli-penned "Lay My Bones To Rest," you believe every word they sing. It feels real, feels so absolutely honest and heartfelt that you can't help but be enraptured by their performances and feel like a part of the experience. They croon like the condemned men they are, the shadows of their sentences hanging over their heads like vulture.
That kind of emotion can't be faked, can't be bought, but can only come from experience. They're doomed and they know it, and that raw, emotional,cathartic release is refreshing in a world of bubble-gum pop stars and flavor-of-the-month radio hits. It offers a constant gut check on the nature of forgiveness and who should be forgiven, and there's no way to leave the movie without conflicting emotions. These men have nowhere to go but up, and witnessing these seemingly changed men, men who seem absolutely peaceful and at peace with themselves, bear their souls and stories is beautifully haunting.