What struck me most about Rashad Frett’s debut Ricky was how, despite his imposing presence, the titular character—now 30 and having spent half his life in prison—often feels and acts like a child, someone experiencing the world for the first time. We’re watching a man whose life was stolen from him, trying to piece together what remains.
Expanding on his short film, Frett tells the story of Ricardo Smith, who, after being betrayed, took the fall for a robbery at just 15 years old. Now on parole, he is navigating a world that has moved on without him. He’s learning everything from how to use a phone to how to put on a condom, all while confronting the harsh reality that the world isn’t as kind to people like him.
Ricky is a well-defined character, brought to life by Stephan James (also excellent in If Beale Street Could Talk), who captures both his childlike innocence and the weight of years spent suffering in prison. We root for him effortlessly—even when he makes questionable choices, we understand why. He’s doing the best he can with the limited tools he has.
The supporting characters that shape Ricky’s journey are also strong. From his caring mother to Titus Welliver’s Leslie Torino and Imani Lewis’s Jaz, each of them helps build a fuller picture of Ricky’s world. Through these interactions, we see that, at his core, Ricky is a good person—not just because he fears returning to prison, but because he genuinely wants to do the right thing. The standout performance, however, comes from Sheryl Lee Ralph as Joanna, Ricky’s parole officer. She brings immense depth to a character torn between enforcing the system and genuinely wanting to help him. She’s tough when she needs to be, fully aware of how stacked the odds are against him. Some of her dialogue feels a little clunky (like “the church left me out because of who I am”), but she makes it work.
Despite winning the Directing Award in the Sundance Dramatic Competition, Ricky is ultimately a conventional film about an inspiring story. It doesn’t take many unexpected turns, but it tells its tale with such empathy and heart that you can’t help but be moved. Whether it’s a scene where Ricky is spotting for a man who has deeply hurt him, cutting the hair of a young child, or the especially heartbreaking finale, the film finds moments of quiet truth that resonate deeply. Yes, it could have gone further in exposing how broken the system is—how it sets people like Ricky up to fail—but somehow, you leave it feeling moved and hopeful. As long as there are good people like Joanna and Torino, there’s still a chance for change.