It seemed like only yesterday I’d interviewed Edgar Barens the morning after the 2014 Oscar telecast, when he was dealing with sleep deprivation and understandable disappointment his critically-acclaimed short documentary about a prison hospice had lost out on the top prize.
When I caught up with the Academy Award nominee this week, however, the Montgomery filmmaker told me it seemed as if that early-morning phone chat had taken place “an eternity ago.”
“A lot has happened since then,” said Barens, of the hoopla around “Prison Terminal: The Last Days of Private Jack Hall,” which focuses on a decorated World War II veteran dying inside the prison walls at Iowa State Penitentiary and the group of hospice volunteers, prisoners themselves, who cared for him.
For one thing, HBO, which aired the documentary a couple weeks ago, has submitted “Prison Terminal” for Emmy consideration, he said. But what’s really kept Barens in overdrive has been his journey since taking the documentary on the road, literally, after the Oscars.
In the past year, thanks to financial assistance from The Fledgling Fund, he’s personally screened the film in “over 30 prisons, hospitals and hospices across the country” in an effort to convince the powers that be there is value in ending life behind bars with dignity.
After all, he insists, these documentaries about social issues do no good “if they are sitting on the shelf.”
Although Barens just returned from screenings at a men’s maximum security prison in San Francisco, and another facility near Sacramento, most of his stops have been in prisons across the Midwest, including five in southern and central Illinois.
There were a few prisons where his message was either ridiculed “by a group of young lifers” or treated less than enthusiastically by the staff. But for the most part, Barens said, the film was received with interest … and more often than you might think, with raw emotion.
At the Ohio Reformatory for Women, for example, “there was not a dry eye in the house,” which included 80 lifers, as well as prison administrators, said Barens. And in February, he added, after screening the film at Logan Correctional Center near Lincoln, the warden stood next to him in front of the women prison population and “promised them” the return of a hospice program that had been scrapped when they were moved from Dwight a couple years ago..
According to Barens, of the 1,800 prisons in America, only 70 have hospice programs, and only 20 have prisoner-run programs like the one in the movie. Most officials, however, seem open to the idea, and he describes the warm reception he received at a warden’s convention in Iowa City last fall as proof the tide is changing. Officials realize these prisoner-run hospice programs are “not going to break the budget, only that certain rules need to be rewritten,” he added.
Barens says he understands why some wardens find it difficult to adopt a program of compassion for inmates who may “have crapped on you … literally, and have pushed all your buttons.” But officials also know the aging and infirmed prison population is increasing exponentially, he said. And there’s no way this issue can be solved through medical paroles or clemency because those processes are far too complicated.
Prison hospice programs, he noted, are not just for the dying. They also affect the inmate caregivers, most of whom are living a life consumed with guilt for past mistakes.
“When they watch someone die, it makes them realize what their crime may have done to someone else and to their victim’s family,” he said. “It shows them how to value life for the first time.”
As this year-long tour winds down, Barens is confident his documentary is making a difference, one prison at a time. And the filmmaker is not about to put “Prison Terminal” on a back burner, even as he gears up for his next big project that puts the spotlight on families of death row inmates, as well as their victims’ families.
While Barens still felt a little residual disappointment “Prison Terminal” did not win the Oscar, just being nominated, he admitted, has opened doors. And he believes if he does the same sort of diligent, heartfelt work on future endeavors, there’s a darn good chance he’ll be back in contention again. Since the film’s release, he’s picked up plenty of other accolades and honors. But his greatest victory, he insists, has been the reception he’s received inside those prison walls, and the feeling this documentary can be part of “the tipping point” of much-needed prison reform.
Awards, especially the big ones, are nice, he noted, but this film “is giving a voice to those who have none.”
And that, he concluded, “is the greatest victory on earth.”
