About the Film

A Litany of All That’s Left insists on giving face, voice, and history to the impact of forced separation and mass incarceration as experienced in the American carceral system. People in prison exist in a space of profound invisibility. Most of what the public sees are headlines, crime statistics, court cases, and orange jumpsuits on the screen. We see people at the moment of their worst decision, forever tagged with the label attached to their conviction. What we rarely see are the human beings behind those labels—the parents missing their children, families carrying endless burden as they wait anxiously for a phone call from their loved ones, the sons and daughters grieving the loss of a parent, and those struggling with illness, trauma, addiction, mental health challenges, while still holding onto both hope and regret. A Litany of All That’s Left brings to the fore intergenerational trauma as communities endure the pain of separation and see their growth and resilience.

In contrast, a litany of all that’s left depicts the harm that exists and expands beyond the prison space. It traces how trauma, hope, and resistance circulate over time and beyond space. As the challenging realities of incarcerated individuals and families unfold, the film reveals the harsh magnitude of forced separation together with the racial and social implications of such realities. Indeed, the camera is entering this wound to reveal that there is more than pain and trauma when thinking about incarceration. The cinematography relishes the joy and warm connections that are part of the quotidian: simple moments of kids playing around a demolition site, short conversations with youth before a backflip, brief dialogue about love, and songs of community members outside a community garden.

The sound of the African drum that leads the last sequence at the end of the film, with the singing of Arthur Burton, has become the leading pulse of the film. The drum is not only a call for attention – bringing a community together for a litany, a litany of all that’s left – but is also a demand (and not a request for pity) for visibility and accountability. The sound of the moment when matters are breaking open. For how long will we accept the prison walls as borders, dividing “us” from ”them,” criminalizing “them,” and erasing and silencing so many from public view?

A Litany of All That’s Left is grounded in the revolutionary work of many activists and revolutionaries, including Shakil Ali, Kimberly Jenkins-Snodgrass, Jeanne Annarelli, Susan Kee, Hassan Shabaz, Arthur Burton, Askari Lumumba, Infinite Allah, and Margaret Breslau (The Coalition for Justice, VA), among many other artists, communities, activists, and visionaries across VA, who insist on seeing those who are often unseen, and those whose stories and challenges often go unheard. The communities we consider unseen take over the camera to tell their stories the way they want to. They speak to the judge who dehumanized and ignored their pain. They use words to speak about the anger and shame that is a direct result of being unseen, unheard, and unaccepted as equal. Their voice and eyes become another drum. Demand care. Matter. We matter. Can we see and take some collective and personal responsibility for the harm that we inflict on one another? Can we come to terms with the horrendous ways that incarceration impacts not only those behind bars but families, children, future generations, entire communities, and all of us as a whole? A Litany of All That’s Left demands a response. And an action. Well?