I hope there is a collective reframing in how we look at the incarcerated and formerly incarcerated alike. 2024 projects like “Sing Sing” and “Daughters” give a 360 insight into how the prison system affects the entire ecosystem of a family and community. In the “land of second chances,” why is that mantra only willingly given to a few over the many? Better yet, when a particular classification of people gains that opportunity, why are there so many roadblocks to ensure they return down the wrong path? Rashad Frett’s “Ricky,” a full-length feature built from his 2023 short, ponders this question inside of a young black man named Ricardo Smith (Stephan James) from East Hartford, Conn. The film makes its entry point a few weeks after Ricky comes home after a long-15 year prison sentence due to an attempted murder charge after he and a friend robbed a store. The details and the murkiness surrounding that transgression come into play later.
Frett’s film shows someone fighting against time while simultaneously trying to reclaim it. As a 30-year-old, Ricky is both springing into adulthood and almost speedrunning through the experiences he should have had as a young teenager/adult. There’s finding a stable job, getting enough money to buy a car, and getting a driver’s license right before you get into personal development that comes with adulthood. If those pressures aren’t enough, recidivism and how the slightest infraction could send you back to prison make for a war within Ricky.
It’s only been 21 days since release, and Ricky is attempting to get his life back on track. He works at a warehouse facilitated by a childhood friend. However, a background check ultimately shatters the dream of holding that job. While incarcerated, Ricky learned to be a barber, but establishing clientele bit-by-bit is not enough to satisfy his hard-nosed parole officer, Joanne (Sheryl Lee Ralph). He has to come up with a plan and do it fast. However, there are small instances where Ricky doesn’t make things easier for himself. He doesn’t go to group-mandated therapy (most likely as a defensive mechanism not to talk about the guilt and despair he feels) and is often late to his check-ins with Joanne. It’s this loop of constant tension that James artfully displays from a physical standpoint. There are moments where Ricky has emotional outbursts because the margins of life feel too tight to exist within. Other instances are met with a brief euphoria sandwiched between child-like fear.
Stephan James appears in Ricky by Rashad Frett, an official selection of the 2025 Sundance Film Festival. Courtesy of Sundance Institute. | photo by Sam Motamedi
Frett and Lin Que Ayoung interweave a healthy amount of supporting characters to display each life marker Ricky is trying to navigate from a different perspective. He’s the big brother to James (Maliq Johnson), but due to his time in incarceration, the roles are reversed, which can make for some tension. Ricky’s mother (Simbi Kali) fights the guilt of kicking her son out of the house when he was younger. Did that choice set Ricky down this path? It’s something they both have to navigate together. Ricky also moves through two different types of relationships. A young single mother named Jaz catches his eye as he cuts her son’s hair. Conversely, through the self-help group, he meets the older and more acclimated post-incarceration Cheryl (Andrene Ward-Hammond). These two relationship interactions tug at Ricky’s insecurities differently. With Jaz, she’s initially with a man who appears to have a more lavish lifestyle Ricky can’t obtain. Cheryl has more life experiences, while Ricky meets her on the level before he is arrested. When Cheryl tries to seduce him, there’s a void that is ever apparent.
RELATED MOVIE REVIEWS:
‘Omaha’ Rides An Emotional Highway Paved With Grief, Sacrifice, and Family | Sundance 2025
“Ricky” has a Venn diagram of statements it strives to make, with its main character at the center of it all. When family members are imprisoned, the ones they love are as well. It’s also apparent that the conditional release system is almost set up as a gotcha for those within it to be re-introduced into its neverending cycle. Sam Motamedi’s handi-camera style is intentionally imperfect in chronicling this story, often looking at Ricky from unconventional angles. But that way of framing poses a powerful, decisive sense that makes it feel as though you are watching genuine moments of desperation as they occur.
Even if “Ricky” tends to overextend its redemptive message to counterbalance a choice made at its end, it doesn’t take away from the totality of effectiveness. Second chances are tough to earn and even harder to obtain. Frett’s film asks us to consider all the angles in which we make redemption an almost unattainable goal for some who seek it.
“Ricky” premiered at the 2025 Sundance Film Festival.
