Sundance ‘26: ‘FRANK & LOUIS’ Is a Somber Reflection on Finding Compassion in a Cage

Frank (Kingsley Ben-Adir) is up for parole soon, serving a long sentence in a maximum security prison. Years ago, he killed a man, but now considers himself changed. We’re not so convinced. Yes, Frank can be patient and carries himself with a calm stillness, but there’s a rage inside him that boils over when no one’s looking. To improve his chances with the parole board, Frank takes an assignment caring for fellow inmates suffering from degenerative mental conditions like dementia or Alzheimer’s. His charge is Louis Nelson (Rob Morgan), a once-notorious thug with a formidable reputation and more than a few enemies. Throughout writer-director Petra Volpe’s Frank & Louis, we watch their paths converge: one man aims for self-discovery, while the other forgets who he is entirely.

Frank and Louis’ relationship starts off rocky. Louis is distrustful of Frank. And, at least at first, he might be right to be. Though other workers in the program tell Frank not to take any slight personally, that proves difficult. Mr. Nelson berates and belittles him, drawing Frank’s ire and turning a caretaker into a potential adversary. But beneath the conflict lies true need: Mr. Nelson is soiling himself, forgetting how to tie his shoes, requiring encouragement just to eat. As Frank tends to him, tenderness blooms. When the two begin to bond and we see the men beneath their crimes, something softer begins to take hold.

For Frank, it’s realizing that caring for someone else might not be just a means to an end, that there’s value inherent in caretaking. In offering solace to someone the world has locked up, forgotten, and thrown away the key on, he begins to find purpose.

The performances from Ben-Adir and Morgan power Frank & Louis’ emotional core. Both deliver outstanding turns, but it’s their shared chemistry that really makes Volpe’s film sing. Ben-Adir effectively communicates the contradiction at Frank’s center: he wants to be seen as calm and reformed, but when no one’s watching, he lashes out. Ben-Adir navigates these divergent aspects without ever losing sight of Frank’s humanity. Morgan is fantastic as Louis, his harsh exterior betrayed by deep, searching eyes; a man frightened by bumps in the night, unsure of who or where he is.

Volpe’s script shines a light on an element of the penal complex you may never have considered, raising unsettling questions: What does it mean to remain incarcerated when you no longer know who you are or what you did? The film challenges the entire prerogative of punishment: if you don’t even know you’re being punished, what’s the point? That said, there’s really nowhere else for these deteriorating convicts to go. They’re violent offenders, and their diminished minds can still lead them to lash out. So they remain, serving out sentences as they await the release of death.

Frank & Louis is reminiscent of Greg Kwedar’s Sing Sing, based on the real-life Rehabilitation Through the Arts program, in its exploration of meaning behind bars. Anchored by strong performances, both films are powerful, somber, and life-affirming explorations of purpose and humanity in places designed to strip you of both.

CONCLUSION: Kingsley Ben-Adir and Rob Morgan lead ‘Frank & Louis’, a delicate two-hander about an incarcerated man caring for a fellow prisoner with Alzheimer’s, built around a powerful conceit about finding purpose through care.