“Attica! Attica! Attica! sings bank robber Sonny Wortzik (Al Pacino), defying attempts by NYPD agents to negotiate the release of hostages Sonny is holding at a Brooklyn bank.

This oft-quoted pop culture moment from the late Oscar-winning Sidney Lumet’s 1975 film “Dog Day Afternoon” is perhaps the only distant connection many Americans have with the biggest and bloodiest rebellion. of Prisoners in United States History: September 9-13, 1971, at the Attica Correctional Facility in upstate New York.

Viewers of the meticulously shaped immersive “Attica” will no longer think of what happened in the prison 50 years ago as an ancient riot. On the contrary, the tragic onslaught of the state that wantonly ended 39 lives in the raid will remain etched in the consciousness of viewers.

The documentary, which premiered Nov. 6, is available on Showtime, and it’s Stanley Nelson (“Miles Davis: Birth of the Cool”) 26_^and film in his career spanning more than three decades. The African-American documentary filmmaker received the National Humanities Medal from President Obama in 2013.

The co-director is Traci A. Curry, who also collaborated with Nelson as a producer on “Boss: The Black Experience” in 2019. This is her first directorial credit.

The day-to-day account of the prison uprising begins on Thursday, September 9, when approximately 1,300 of the 2,000 inmates – two-thirds of its population – took 42 guards hostage and took control of Yard D of the prison.

As the uprising grew excessively violent, New York State Police and Attica Corrections officers reasserted their control over the prisoners on Monday, September 13, which concludes the documentary filmmakers’ account.

Nelson and Curry admirably let all affected groups have a say in what happened: former prisoners, family members of hostages, people the inmates asked to be observers, and members of the national guard who were asked to help the wounded and dead after the restoration of the state. jail control.

An altercation between the guard and an inmate ostensibly precipitated the prisoners’ rebellion. For others, this revolt was inevitable. As former prisoner George Che Nieves put it, “something was always ready to happen in Attica. The population was tired, tired of lies, tired of promises.”

LD Barkley, a 21-year-old African American from Rochester, New York, originally from Rochester, New York, with just days remaining on a 90-day sentence for a parole violation, has become the spokesperson for the detained that first day. (Barkley died in the police attack.)

The prisoner revolt was not the result of enmity between guards and inmates but, Barkley said, of “the unrelenting oppression brought about by the racist administrative network of this prison over the years”.

“We are men,” he said. “We are not beasts and we do not intend to be beaten or led as such.” They wanted assurances from Republican Governor Nelson Rockefeller that they would suffer no reprisals for their rebellion and that the media would report their cause.

Invited to become an observer of the prisoner struggle, Herman Schwartz, then a law professor at SUNY Buffalo, immediately understood what increased media attention meant for the inmates. The 89-year-old constitutional law scholar says “now the prisoners had a global audience”.

As the uprising grew excessively violent, New York State Police and Attica Corrections officers reasserted their control over the prisoners on Monday, September 13, which concludes the documentary filmmakers’ account.

Nelson and Curry admirably let all affected groups have a say in what happened: former prisoners, family members of hostages, people the inmates asked to be observers, and members of the national guard who were asked to help the wounded and dead after the restoration of the state. jail control.

An altercation between the guard and an inmate ostensibly precipitated the prisoners’ rebellion. For others, this revolt was inevitable. As former prisoner George Che Nieves put it, “something was always ready to happen in Attica. The population was tired, tired of lies, tired of promises.”

LD Barkley, a 21-year-old African American from Rochester, New York, originally from Rochester, New York, with just days remaining on a 90-day sentence for a parole violation, has become the spokesperson for the detained that first day. (Barkley died in the police attack.)

The prisoner revolt was not the result of enmity between guards and inmates but, Barkley said, of “the unrelenting oppression brought about by the racist administrative network of this prison over the years”.

“We are men,” he said. “We are not beasts and we do not intend to be beaten or led as such.” They wanted assurances from Republican Governor Nelson Rockefeller that they would suffer no reprisals for their rebellion and that the media would report their cause.

Invited to become an observer of the prisoner struggle, Herman Schwartz, then a law professor at SUNY Buffalo, immediately understood what increased media attention meant for the inmates. The 89-year-old constitutional law scholar says “now the prisoners had a global audience”.

Other notable observers included the late New York Times journalist Tom Wicker (“A Time to Die: The Attica Prison Revolt”), the late legendary civil liberties lawyer William Kunstler, and longtime adviser to Dr. Martin Luther King, 90 years old. the esteemed Clarence Jones.

Summoned to observe, these religious leaders, lawyers and journalists attempted to negotiate a resolution to the inmates’ demands with New York Corrections Commissioner Russell Oswald. The commissioner accepted most prisoners’ basic demands for, as Schwartz puts it, “medical care, decent food, fair disciplinary hearings,” among other things. Another observer, former ABC journalist John Johnson, hoped the standoff could be “negotiated to a decent humanitarian end”.

The governor, however, did not accede to the prisoners’ insistence on clemency. When 28-year-old guard William Quinn, badly beaten during the takeover, died two days later, the inmates lost much of their bargaining power.

At 10 a.m. on the morning of the 13_^andthe state had taken over Attica.

“Attica” works on intimate, personal and general levels.

The moment when Charles Horatio Crowley, also known as Brother Flip, addresses the watchers will indelibly affect viewers. “If we cannot live as people,” he says, “then we will at least try to die as men.”

However, much of the power of “Attica” stems from the way its never-before-seen archival footage puts you right in the heart of the state’s staggering, gruesome, and devastating military-style assault on prisoners and hostages.

Much of this footage is New York State Police surveillance video, which the filmmakers use against the state to charge him.

The grainy black and white images create a disturbing fog of war as menacing helicopters hover, tear gas rains down and some officers use uncased bullets against their victims. These munitions have been banned by the Geneva Conventions because of the serious damage they cause.

After the 20-minute attack is over, their captors force the detainees to crawl, “like a dog” in former prisoner Al Hajii’s memorable phrase, naked in feces, and beat and torture them.

“Attica” is not easy to watch. Besides the brutality, images of full-face male nudity may be disconcerting to some. But these images make an entirely appropriate and important connection, as one commentator suggests, to African Americans and slavery.

Viewers will marvel at the resilience of ex-offenders as they come to terms with the fresh, palpable memories of the degradation they suffered half a century ago.

Viewers ready to face the harsh realities of “Attica” will agree with Clarence Jones. At the time of the film’s interview, he said, “God willing, in a few months I’ll be 90. I’ll never, ever, ever forget Attica.”