Prison, if nothing else, is a complex organism of interpersonal relationships and routines that develop over years. These are subject to interruption at any time—sometimes through violence, other times the daily friction of living and working in close quarters. Frank & Louis, the English-language debut of Petra Volpe (Late Shift), gets many of these details right. It follows Frank (Kingsley Ben-Adir), a convicted murderer serving life with the possibility of parole. After being bounced to a new facility, he falls into a new routine by accepting a job in a special-care unit for incarcerated persons with special needs.
While most of the men are lifers nearing the end, Louis (Rob Morgan) is a 60-year-old man who’s otherwise healthy but slipping into early-onset Alzheimer’s. A former “shot caller” known for running the yard with intimidation, Louis has fallen into a frail state that former enemies suspect could be an act. The story follows Frank as he starts working as a porter in the unit and communicates with his sister while preparing for an upcoming parole hearing. Serving as early exposition, a job interview reveals that he has struggled with his temper in the past but has taken advantage of available programming. However, as he keeps to himself in a quasi-self-imposed solitary confinement—carving intricate figures from bars of soap—the film starts to lose its way with predictable beats and too much restraint.
Lensed in widescreen rather than a more confined aspect ratio with a “rough and ready” look used by prison films like David Mackenzie’s Starred Up or Cal McMau’s recent festival favorite Wasteman, the film explores the dangers of prison but with a distanced perspective–particularly when Frank must eventually decide whether to intervene when a young inmate threatens Louis over a past beef. What’s missing is the richness of the relationships that incarcerated persons develop with each other and the officers—some of which can be stable, while others are subject to volatile mood swings. Set in an anonymous facility (it’s unclear if it is state or federal, though Frank’s sister writes to a federal clemency board), Frank & Louis feels like a missed opportunity to say something deeper about the system. Focusing on Frank’s emotional retreat is not a terribly compelling way to project atonement for a crime that left a young woman fatherless decades ago. It’s sometimes too restrained, while other passages lean so heavily into a redemption arc that it feels like a potential acquisition for Angel Studios.
Despite fine performances and a riveting premise—prisoners finding meaning in caring for their elders, even a violent white supremacist—Frank & Louis falters by putting its characters in predictable, nuanceless boxes. A compelling statement on the system these people find themselves in is nowhere to be found.
Frank & Louis premiered at the 2026 Sundance Film Festival.