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Production Notes
“In the realm of public policy, many decisions are made based on political philosophies and the voice of a narrow constituency,” co-director Odile Isralson continued, addressing the larger issues of rehabilitation in prison. “Through our process of research and filming, we have come to believe that more decisions should be made based on common sense and the reality of day-to-day life. Philosophy is fine in the classroom, however, when you don’t have job skills, money, self-confidence or a strong support or family system in place, philosophy takes a back seat to getting from one day to the next. The first step is to raise the public’s awareness and understanding of the basic issues. We need to humanize the women and their stories. Do we want to continue to lock them up or do we want them to succeed when they leave prison, contribute to society, and be a positive influence on the lives of their children? These are tough questions, and until we are willing to address them squarely, our prisons will stay full, children will continue to be lost in the system, and our tax dollars will be doing nothing but continuing a negative and hopeless trend,” Isralson concluded. Ms. Isralson said that the idea for Prison Lullabies began to develop over coffee and the newspaper while in Europe several years ago. “I read an article about a woman who was in a European prison, preparing to give birth. I was struck by the stark reality and emotional contrast of the situation. I hadn’t ever thought much about women in prison and certainly never thought about what would happen if a woman was pregnant when she was arrested. It was a provocative question – what happens to the children of incarcerated women? I was driven to find out and began researching American prisons with nursery program,” explained Isralson, a native of Belgium, who has lived in the United States since 1983.
“It didn’t take very much time for us to understand that the nursery program provided an anchor for the women. It was something that they could hold onto for support, in order to haul themselves up and out of their old patterns of behavior. Of the four women we follow throughout the film, all had had children before,” said Ms. Matta. “The women had lost their freedom and prison soon caused them to lose their sense of identity. However, being allowed to keep their babies with them for the first year of the infant’s life allowed them to identify, take responsibility, and establish themselves as individuals through their children. For women who come from abusive backgrounds, who have only known violence, abandonment, poverty, and addiction, being given the supervised opportunity to learn to take responsibility, to love their children, and learn how to care for them, also allowed them an opportunity to begin to make fundamental changes in their lives. They began to see beyond the world they came from, making plans for a future and slowly beginning to believe in the possibility of building a new life after serving their time.” As difficult as adjusting to the responsibility of a new baby is to women who aren’t in prison, it is magnified in the lives of inmates. Along with everything else they are struggling with, babies often trigger conflicting emotions. Their dependence on the women is a constant reminder of the lives that led them to their cells in the first place – the things they have done, the people they have hurt, the other children they have lost and left behind, the devastation and breakdown of their own lives. The babies are also constant reminders of the seemingly insurmountable challenges that lay ahead and the enormously high stakes riding on their recovery, rehabilitation, and eventual freedom. Yet, within the strict institutional confines of prison, the babies also bring a special, unfamiliar aura of joy and confidence to the women. Prison staff and inmates in “general population” show a different respect for the new mothers. The well-being of the babies becomes a priority for the women and by association, their own well-being is something to be considered above all else. While prison strips away any signs of individuality, the nursery within the prison offers an opportunity, in many cases for the first time, to feel for someone other than self, to care and to extend and receive love unconditionally. The women begin to feel special and important in the well-being of another’s life, a sentiment most often alien to them on the outside. Through daily counseling sessions, interactions with other mother inmates, and most especially, through the ancient bond of motherhood, their self-esteem takes baby steps toward becoming healthy, and at least partially realized. “In an odd turn of perception, we have come to view prison as a potential for growth and opportunity for these women,” said Ms. Isralson. “The nursery program proves that as long as we insist on locking people up, we should also insist on using that time to help inmates learn from their mistakes, to gain the fundamental tools to keep them from making the same mistake over and over again. Statistics bear out this perception. The majority of inmates who are able to take advantage of any type of rehabilitation program while serving their time, are more likely than those who just wait out their sentences to stay free of the prison walls. The nursery program at Taconic created a set of healthy expectations for the women along with the tools to meet them. Through the concern of prison staff and the energy they spend helping the women, a desire to please and to succeed is fostered and the women suddenly feel that they not only have something to live for, but that they have the ability and desire to take control of their lives and succeed.”
The realization challenged the filmmakers to make a decision. Should they limit the film to exploring the program, or should they step off into the unknown alongside the women and commit to following them for several years in order to create their own data? The official period that determines success or failure within the prison system is two years, so Matta and Isralson make a commitment to that and set out to learn what the real impact of the nursery program would be on the four women from four very different walks of life. “In order to gain a more comprehensive sense of who the women were and to put their lives in to context, we visited them at home or in the halfway house, met their families, and learned what we could about the world from which they arrived behind the prison doors at Taconic,” said Matta. “As time went on the nursery became less the heart of the narrative and more the door leading into these very personal and complicated worlds. The prison is just one piece in an intricate puzzle, that doesn’t always fit, in these women’s lives. It is a place that at once beckons them to come back, and acts as a deterrent and harsh reminder of a world that they each want desperately to leave behind. The outcome shattered our preconceptions. There is joy; there is sorrow, success, and failure. But those are our standards. The women, even those who are back in prison, feel that they have at least made a step. And with one step, they believe, given the change, that another will follow,” Isralson concluded. Prison Lullabies provokes viewers to challenge themselves. There
is no clean ending, just like life. Every day brings a new challenge.
Every challenge brings a new possibility. And in the microcosm
of four lives that allowed the filmmakers in, every possibility
returns with a new challenge and a new hope. Character profiles of key people in the film Amy, 28, is a petite blond fireball. One can imagine her breaking hearts on the cheerleading team in high school. Always concerned about her weight and whether or not she is tan enough (the first thing she does upon release is visit a tanning salon with her mother), Amy tries to bide her time at Taconic by distancing herself from the other inmates. Considered a short-term addict, Amy’s drug use is no less serious; however, she prides herself on the fact that she hasn’t “squandered her life on the streets.” Yet, Amy is pregnant with her third child who will be born during the film. The child’s father, Emmanuel, is Amy’s drug dealer, crack being her drug of choice. Of her other children, one son died of SIDS; the other, 12 at the time of filming, is living with his father. As her release date nears, Amy’s already shaky confidence and will begin to crumble. She is wracked with doubt and anxiety about her ability to succeed on the outside. “I will not have the walls to protect me,” she confides in a starkly intimate moment. Amy returns with baby Carissa to her mother Linda’s home. Linda has anxiously awaited her daughter’s release. “She used to be my best friend,” she gushes. “When she gets home, life will finally return to normal.” In another moment of shocking simplicity and clarity, Linda reflects on the effect her own background has had on her troubled daughter. “I’d never thought of it before, but my grandmother’s husband beat her, my father beat my mother, and Amy’s father made many attempts to kill me.” With odds like that and a baby girl being introduced to the family, the outcome is anything but what you’d expect. Anne Marie. In her short 34 years, Anne Marie has managed to accumulate a rap sheet of staggering length. Among her crimes: 13 years of prostitution; fraud; grand larceny, and drugs. Her first two children, taken away at birth, were born addicted to crack. A daughter is being cared for by her grandmother. The other child, a son, is adopted. When Anne Marie talks about her past, it is as if she is talking about someone else’s hard times. In a shocking revelation during group counseling, Anne Marie admits that when she had her second baby she was not only still using, but managed a hit of crack just before giving birth. That, she says through tears, is the past. The difference for her now is that she is clean, and will give birth to her son with the support and guidance of the nursery program. Emboldened by sober motherhood after her son, Nicholas is born healthy and clean, Anne Marie begins to recall her childhood in rural Massachusetts, a time not entirely lost to her. Although she has not had contact with her parents for 12 years, Anne Marie decides to write to them, hoping to find an opening into a new life with a renewed and perhaps stronger relationship with her family. When she is finally released to a halfway house in Queens, Anne Marie’s mother arrives for a visit. Their strained relationship clearly etched into her face, they greet each other with tears and a mixed bag of anger, fear, and hope. Memories of the past haunt her mother, who is horrified as Anne Marie takes her on a sightseeing car ride through her old neighborhoods, with stories to accompany the passing of each street and the famous Chelsea Hotel. Anne Marie’s journey is a courageous battle of wills. This woman who lost everything suddenly finds a stretch of character and persistence working tenaciously back into her parents’ lives so that Nicholas will know his grandparents; setting up house with her still-addicted boyfriend; staying clean, finding work, and creating a life of family and home for young Nicholas. Monique. “I can’t bear to be with women twenty-four-seven,” 27-year old Monique says. After years of hustling, dealing drugs, and living with abusive boyfriends and relatives, Monique astonishes us by admitting that she finds prison comparatively intolerable. On the streets, she says, people feared and respected her. At Taconic she is not feared or respected as the system works to break down her individual spirit. Her aggressive behavior and quick mouth get her nothing but reprimands from her counselors and warning tickets from the corrections officers. Even the other women threaten her with being “written up” if she doesn’t get with the program. While many inmates wouldn’t care, Monique knows that she is on dangerous ground. Any more negative reports will get her kicked off the nursery floor and back into general population where she will have no hope of keeping her child. As months pass, Monique slowly begins to adjust. She relaxes into the nursery program and begins to open up to the truth of her past, sharing her stories with the other women whom she grows to appreciate and care for. Kareem is Monique’s fourth child, but the first that she has had the opportunity to mother. Her first baby died of SIDS and the other two are being raised by her sister. Monique wants to get out of prison and on with her life in the worst way. She honestly admits that as each woman leaves the facility she doesn’t feel happy for them. Instead, she feels sorry for being left behind. When her release date does arrive, Monique is determined to stay out of prison and tend to work and family. “When I get out, I want to get a job, I have never worked before. I never thought I could get high on life. But now, for my son, I am willing to try.” Finally, Monique admits that “drugs are a paradise when you are taking them, but when you are sober you realize what you have done to yourself, your family and your kids. I want my children to know me, not of me.” Joann. “In prison, I have time for myself,” declares 31-year old Joann. “On the outside, I was stressed out.” Indeed, with four children, the offspring of four different men, and the downward spiral of her own alcoholism and life as a drug dealer, there was not much time left to consider what she was doing to herself or her kids. Her three-year sentence, the longest of the four women, creates a bitter situation that none of the other women will have to deal with. While the others will be able to leave prison with their babies, Joann will have her son (child number five), Carmelo, take from her on his first birthday. One of the unshakable rules of the nursery program is that the children may only stay with their mothers for 12 months, or upon exception, 18 months, if the mother’s sentence does not extend beyond that time. Carmelo will join his four half-siblings in upstate New York, where there are being cared for by Kathy, a friend of Joann’s. As the day approaches when she will have to relinquish custody of Carmelo, her mood grows dark and anxious. The other women are counseled to be aware of the pain that Joann is experiencing and are asked to give her room while also offering her kindness and support. Kathy is prepared for the new addition to the growing family and aware that the visit of one of Joann’s young daughters may cause some trauma for the girl. Happy to see her mother and new brother, Antonia stays close to her mother’s side, though it is bittersweet to see the subtle shifting roles that they each play. At one point Joann becomes the child, asking her daughter if she remembered her birthday and noting that she had her hair styled especially for her. The separation proves as wrenching as expected. However, Joann
rises to the occasion. “I can get my GED here. I am taking
parenting classes, attending domestic violence meetings, and alternative
to violence programs. And without Carmelo with me, I can work in
the mess hall so that when I’m released I can get a job at
a restaurant and be a better mother for my kids.” No more
men. Look where they have gotten me. From here on, it is just me
and my kids.” PRISON LULLABIES Production Staff Odile Isralson: Producer/Director/Director of Photography -- For 14 years, Odile has been working as a news producer in the U.S. bureaus of Swiss (TSR/DRS/TSI) and German (ARD/ZDF) television. Before that, she was a reporter for BELGA, the Belgian news agency, and for Canadian Radio Network (NTR). In 1998, she and Lina Matta set up Brown Hats Productions. Their first documentary was the short "Running for Bogota" which screened at various national and international festivals and aired on select PBS stations. Lina Matta: Producer/Director/Sound Recordist -- Born in Lebanon, Lina came to the U.S. in 1984 to pursue a masters degree in Film Production. After graduating from Boston University, she moved to Washington, DC where for 13 years she produced news shows for the Middle East Satellite television market. Lina continues to freelance for American, European and Middle East television news outlets. "Prison Lullabies" is her first feature documentary. Jonathan Oppenheim: Editor -- Jonathan Oppenheim edited the acclaimed feature documentaries: “Paris Is Burning” (Jennie Livingston), winner of the Best Documentary award from the New York and Los Angeles Film Critics Circles, “Children Underground” (Edet Belzberg), the 2001 Special Jury Award winner at the Sundance Film Festival and 2002 Oscar nominee for feature documentary, and “Sister Helen” (Rob Fruchtman and Rebecca Cammisa), winner of the Sundance 2002 Director’s Award Oppenheim’s many other credits include: “Hookers, Hustlers, Pimps and their Johns” (Beeban Kidron) for Channel Four; “Lives in Hazard” (Andy Young, Susan Todd) for ABC, an exploration of gang life in Los Angeles, narrated by Edward James Olmos; “A Matter of Trust: Billy Joel in the USSR” (Míartin Bell) for ABC; “Paving The Way” (Emma Joan Morris) for PBS; editing on Streetwise (Martin Bell), a documentary feature which was nominated for an Oscar, and segments for Bill Moyers’ “What Can We Do about Violence for Public Television”. Ann Collins: Story consultant -- Ann Collins has been working in documentary film for over twelve years. Her editing credits include the feature documentaries “The Heart of the Matter”, “Belly Talkers”, “The Charcoal People”, and “Sound and Fury”, all of which premiered at the Sundance Film Festival before receiving theatrical and television distribution. “Sound and Fury” was nominated for an academy award in 2000. She also edited “Porgy and Bess: An American Voice” (PBS), “True Life: I’m on the Runway” (MTV), “Martha Stewart’s Home for the Holidays” (CBS), “Frontline: Merchants of Cool” as well as several independent dramatic films. She trained to be an editor under the auspices of Bill Moyers, George Butler, Ken Burns, Phil Joanu and Michael Apted, and Maysles Films. She holds a B.F.A. in film and television from NYU.Loren Toolajian: original music -- While composer in residence at Signature Theater Company in New York Loren Toolajian composed original music for Burn This, Urban Zulu Mambo, Two Rooms, June and Jean in Concert, The Sad Lament of Pecos, Bill on the Eve of Killing His Wife, The Pussycat and the Expert Plumber Who Was a Man, Walking Off the Roof, The Last of the Thorntons, and he was the musical director for The American Clock and Curse of the Starving Class. Mr. Toolajian has also composed music for films including, Family Secret, Rudy Blue; Sleeping Dogs Lie; The Tavern.
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“What we were looking for with this story was an opportunity
to show the nature of change through process,” says Lina
Matta, co-director of Prison Lullabies. “The four women we
followed face exactly the same struggle, how to cope with addiction,
lack of education and job skills and imprisonment, along with the
added stress of having children. Their ability to cope and their
responses to their circumstances are all very different. Prison
Lullabies attempts to let each of their stories unfold with the
women telling their own stories.” 
Her research revealed that only five women’s prisons had
programs set up for women to give birth and keep their infants
while serving their time. One of the prisons, the Taconic Correctional
Facility, is located in the exclusive town of Bedford Hills in
Northern Westchester County, New York. The facility is a medium
security
rehab prison, the largest of its kind in the country. “After
getting clearance to interview the superintendent and some of the
women in the nursery program in Taconic, we decided not to look
any further. The women we met were surprisingly articulate and
enabled us to see beyond our limited preconceptions of what a prison
nursery would be. Simply talking to them was an extraordinary experience.
Our eyes were beginning to open and our opinions were immediately
challenged. We endured the frustrations and eventual victory of
making our way through the endless bureaucracy and tight security
of the prison system and soon moved ourselves into the neighborhood
to begin filming,” Ms. Isralson explained.
The film, however, only begins within the prison and soon follows
Amy, Monique, Joann, and Anne Marie out into the real world. “We
were extremely curious about what would happen to them once they
were released. It’s all well and good to sit around and talk
about the positive changes you want to make, but actually living
by your words, as we all know, if a very different matter,” recounted
Ms. Matta. “We looked for statistics to base our findings
on, however, there aren’t any strictly limited to women who
have gone through a nursery program during their incarceration.
The only available data is anecdotal, which we were beginning to
suspect was heavily spun in official ‘public relations speak’.”
