‘Ricky’ Review: A Sensitive Stephan James Steadies Frenetic Debut About Recidivism

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In Barry Jenkins’ dreamlike portrayal of James Baldwin’s novel “If Beale Street Could Talk“, Stephan James embodies Fonny, a sculptor unjustly imprisoned for a crime he didn’t commit. From the very start, his presence on screen captivates us: When Fonny speaks to his girlfriend (KiKi Layne) through a glass partition, James portrays the heartbreaking impact of incarceration with his tightly clenched hands and sorrowful eyes. The actor’s expressive gaze, accentuated by furrowed brows, tells compelling stories when Fonny’s words fall short.

In the poignant yet inconsistent debut of Rashad Frett, titled “Ricky,” James portrays the main character who finds language inadequate. Ricky, a 30-year-old native of Hartford, is fresh out of prison after spending his teenage years behind bars. Adjusting to life outside is an uphill battle for Ricky, considering his early imprisonment at 15. Struggling to cope, Ricky experiences anxiety and PTSD, which are depicted through scenes of restless sleep and hushed surroundings as he falls into states of distress. When words fail him, Ricky hugs himself tightly, seeking solace from a world that feels overwhelming. James delivers a deeply moving performance as Ricky, using his expressive eyes to tell a dual story, portraying post-prison life as a journey of maturity and self-discovery.

The film titled “Ricky,” which debuted at Sundance and is inspired by Frett’s short film of the same name, explores the challenges that individuals who have served time in prison encounter when they re-enter society. Similar to last year’s film “Sing Sing,” “Ricky” offers viewers a close-up view of a piece of the American justice system. The United States has some of the highest recidivism rates globally: Statistics indicate that approximately 80% of individuals released from state prisons are re-arrested within 10 years. In collaboration with his co-writer Lin Que Ayoung, Frett creates a heartfelt portrayal of how one man manages to remain free. However, “Ricky” grapples with underdeveloped storylines and hurried direction that can sometimes appear unclear.

The key aspects of the character Ricky, which may evoke similarities to characters in Ryan Coogler’s Fruitvale Station or John Singleton’s Boyz n the Hood, are those that highlight obstacles, both practical and emotional, faced by Frett’s main character as he tries to find his place in the world. These scenes have a raw, edgy feel, enhanced by the handheld camera and unconventional angles (courtesy of cinematographer Sam Motamedi), that convincingly convey Ricky’s discomfort during his transition period.

Individuals who were previously imprisoned, especially those with felony convictions, often face societal stigma due to a justice system that leans more towards punishment rather than rehabilitation. In Ricky’s situation, he works at a warehouse handling packages but his employment is threatened by compulsory background checks. His parole officer Joanne (formerly Sheryl Lee Ralph) persistently encourages him to participate in group therapy and regularly administers drug tests.

Additionally, there are losses that can’t be seen or touched, but they serve to remind us of Ricky’s youth. James’ subtle acting techniques bring this truth to light. Through nuanced physical gestures like the tense hands he displayed in If Beale Street Could Talk, or furrowing his brows when Ricky is at his most exposed, he skillfully conveys these moments. These instances are particularly evident during interactions such as questioning an old friend (Sean Nelson) about his prison time, seeking driving lessons from his younger brother (Maliq Johnson), and courting women – first with Jaz (Imani Lewis), a local single mom, and later with Cheryl (Andrene Ward-Hammond), another ex-convict from his support group.

Although James gave a strong performance, the overall portrayal of Ricky is shaky. The problems become increasingly apparent as Frett delves deeper into the world’s complexities. The storylines are overloaded, leaving narratives such as Ricky’s relationship with his neighbor (Titus Welliver) and their implied past between Ricky’s mother (Simbi Khali) and Joanne incomplete. Other female characters, like Jaz and Cheryl, fail to develop beyond being mere props, particularly as Ricky approaches its heart-wrenching conclusion.

The film stumbles due to a discordant tone, as it strays from delivering a meaningful message into ambiguity. The sympathetic perspective of Frett is hindered by an excessive attempt to impart lessons. The message, while trying to convey societal failures towards its character and ex-convicts, concludes on a puzzling note of personal accountability. While making better choices is significant, it’s important, as Frett has already demonstrated effectively, to comprehend the circumstances that make such choices nearly impossible.

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2025-01-27 21:27