Music from the Big House

Watching Music from the Big House is like diving into a world that society has long forgotten and chooses not to remember. The black and white exposure of the film gives it an interesting take, reminding the viewer that sometimes life is lived in the gray. It has a particular raw footage grounding effect in part due to its inspirational original music and camera work. It takes you on a journey as if you were seated shotgun during filming. While it's not a story of second chances or new beginnings it reminds us all that life is what you make of it and you must make due with what you have. The film does an extraordinary task of distracting you from the real nature of the individuals being documented, only then to bring you back to a sense of reality right before rolling the credits.

I can't even begin to get into the inspiration this movie gives out. How a little women goes into the prison of Angola and gives prisoners the gift of blues music, this not only touched them but me too. I have a heavy appreciation for blues music but hearing it come from men who could have given up on life changed my feelings about music. Watching people evolve and come together strictly because of the music they share among each other is a rewarding experience. There are plenty behind the scenes documentaries that shed light on prison life. I will say that this particular film is nothing like a regular boring prison documentary in respects that it paints the inmate from another point of view. I never thought getting to know people I've never met would touch me the way these random inmates did. The ending is even more surprising, it set the tone for the whole purpose of the movie.

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.

Music from the Big House begins humbly enough, with a myriad of inmates telling their musical roots. Rita Chiarelli seeks to go back to the roots of the blues, Angola Prison Louisiana. This is where the magic happens. Taking the time to assemble 4 different bands, Rita masterfully guides the inmates learning their past, while teaching her own. Together they make nothing short of a masterpiece. Music from the Big House grants a beautiful look into the hearts and souls of these men. Introducing you to the new souls, the men of hope, looking out of their harrowing homes and into the heavens for salvation. Rita becomes their angel in garb, dealing out guitars, keyboards, and drums; making the blues resonate from the stonewalls of Angola Prison. I loved the simple black and white film, each shadowed grain only intensified emotions of the graveled voices. Chiarelli guides us humbly, granting us with an open-hearted look into the real men and their music.

Music from the Big House is really good. It's very interesting the way they deal with the inmates who all are such interesting thoughtful people. The music's really nice.

It seems that the inmates are people who have grown older and wiser during their time inside. They are really thoughtful and talk about redemption and forgiveness. They are spiritually sophisticated.

Documentaries can take the audience into places, lives, and situations we wouldn't otherwise be able to go. Narrative film does that to a certain extent, but only a documentary can go to a place like Angola Prison and show what it is really like to live there and how it's possible to end up there.