‘Daughters’: Emotional Doc Where Incarcerated Fathers Dance with Daughters

A group of incarcerated fathers in Washington, D.C., are forewarned in the documentary “Daughters” that they’re about to embark on “emotional rollercoasters.” This prediction couldn’t be more accurate.

Directed by Natalie Rae and Angela Patton, the film follows these imprisoned fathers who are granted a rare opportunity to spend a few hours with their daughters, ages ranging from 5 to late teens. For one precious afternoon, they can dance, hug, and laugh together.

For some of the girls, this Daddy Daughter Dance will be the first time they’ve ever touched their fathers. Others haven’t seen their dads in years, as the trend in U.S. prisons has shifted toward video calls and away from in-person “touch” visits. Even when physical visits do occur, they often take place through plexiglass and a phone.

The unspoken question that “Daughters,” which debuts Wednesday on Netflix, addresses is: Should it be this rare for incarcerated men to have genuine interactions with their children? This poignant documentary presses a fundamental plea: “We’re still fathers,” one of the men insists.

“Daughters,” which won a prize at the Sundance Film Festival earlier this year, first turns its focus to the young girls preparing for the event. Aubrey, an instantly loveable 5-year-old, says, “When he says he loves me, I’m gonna say I love him more.” Her father, Keith, will remain in prison for another seven years—an incomprehensible span for a 5-year-old who is just learning to count.

Other girls have more complex emotions. Santana, 10, vows not to cry when she meets her dad. “The only reason he ain’t here is he wants to keep doing bad stuff,” she says. Santana’s father, Mark, didn’t hug her until she was a year old. For Ja’Ana, 11, seeing her father is even rarer because her mother didn’t want her visiting him in prison. “I don’t remember nothin’ about my father, nothin’ at all,” she admits.

On the day of the dance, the fathers, dressed in suits with flowers on their lapels, sit in a long row as their daughters arrive. The filmmakers capture these moments almost like a fairy tale: the room is filled with light, little sound besides some music, a few shouts of “Daddy!” and some muffled crying.

In the gym, fathers and daughters play and dance together. Some have a wonderful time, while for others, the emotional gulf between them is too vast to bridge in a single afternoon. When it’s time for the daughters to leave and the fathers return to their cells, the parting is devastating. Before the girls depart, the fathers sign pledges to remain present in their lives. Over the 12 years of the program, 95% of participating fathers do not return to jail.

This summer has brought us two deeply touching films about the lives of incarcerated people and the paths to redemption: “Daughters” and the true-story-inspired drama “Sing Sing.” “Daughters” also serves as a reflection on the imprisoned men’s upbringing and the generations-spanning cycles of parental absence.

Time is the primary metric in prison life, making a documentary like “Daughters,” filmed over years, uniquely adept at capturing its passage. While the film is indeed an emotional rollercoaster, nothing can fully prepare viewers for the painful years-later epilogue. Aubrey is now 8 and hasn’t seen her father since the dance. When she’s finally allowed to visit him, she doesn’t recognize him through the plexiglass. On the ride home, Aubrey no longer seems like the optimistic 5-year-old she once was. This, undeniably, is tragedy unfolding in real-time.

“Daughters,” a Netflix release, is rated PG-13 for some thematic elements and language, with a running time of 107 minutes. Three stars out of four.