Review of 'Hijas': Prisoners reunite with their children

When a father goes to prison, everyone in the family does time. And in black communities hardest hit by the impersonal whims of the prison industry, a unique program has been promoted, aimed at girls seeking a deeper connection with their incarcerated fathers: a date with them in prison.

The documentary “Daughters,” from directors Natalie Rae and Angela Patton, follows one such father-daughter dance in Washington, D.C., a carefully staged evening in which orange prison uniforms are exchanged for jackets and ties, the ornate prison gymnasium takes on a prom-like feel and the smartly dressed girls have a few hours of celebration in which their separation anxiety is briefly and poignantly put aside.

The film, which focuses on a handful of girls and their parents as the dance approaches, is as poignant as it sounds — and invariably as sad. It’s thanks to the great wisdom of the collaboration between Rae, who has a background in directing, and Patton, an activist whose nonprofit prioritizes the future of black girls, that while the dance is clearly meant to be positive and inspiring (we’re told that 95% of the parents who participate never go back to jail), the film isn’t afraid to show how much fragility and uncertainty there is in the preparations for it and its aftermath.

That commitment to the emotional integrity of a process that can reveal both pain and hope keeps “Daughters” from feeling like a commercial, though it does wholeheartedly sell us on the value of this show. You’ll be immediately impressed when you meet charming, chatty 5-year-old Aubrey, a math whiz whose joy for numbers is offset by the years her father, Keith, will be away. Elsewhere, 10-year-old Santana, who helps her mother raise a little brother, is a serious kid with an exterior hardened by the weakness of the adults in her life, while 11-year-old Ja’Ana, who doesn’t know her father at all, is saddled with her mother’s doubts about her level of commitment. And Raziah, a struggling high school student who, according to her mother, has already expressed troubling thoughts of self-harm.

The fathers, who must meet in parenting circles led by a supportive coach in a spacious room marked by a large circular window, are a nervous bunch. They reflect honestly on their problems and are encouraged to consider the upcoming dance in terms that prioritize how their daughters should see them: as potential promise-makers.

We learn the men’s names, but the filmmakers never tell us what lies ahead for them, which seems right: what defines them for us is what they strive to become, rather than what they were. In a riskier but effective grace note, poetic, home-movie-style interludes — scenes of the girls at play that suggest lost experiences — are interspersed throughout the film.

It's no surprise that on the big day, when these stylish parents wait expectantly for their dates, your throat can't take the lumps. But while there are hugs, tears, laughter, more hugs, silly photos, and adorable dances, there are also moments of awkwardness upon meeting each other and even outright tension. Rae and Patton, who filmed their subjects over the years, are sufficiently attuned to the many feelings at play.

“Daughters” has no obvious ending, and it is in the realities of distance that we come to fully understand the complexity of dance, girls and parents coming together without plexiglass barriers or expensive video calls separating them. Touching and being touched makes “Daughters” an achingly beautiful case of second chances in an isolated and fractured world.