Have you ever been so moved by a film that it brought you to tears, not because of sadness, but because it shattered your preconceived notions about humanity? That's the power of 'Classroom 4,' an Oscar-shortlisted documentary short that's leaving audiences profoundly affected.
For over two decades, Professor Reiko Hillyer has been a fixture at Lewis & Clark College in Portland, Oregon. But it's the unique classroom she leads outside the campus walls that has garnered attention and critical acclaim. This isn't your typical college course; it takes place within the Columbia River Correctional Institution, also in Portland.
Imagine this: 30 students, split evenly between 15 incarcerated individuals ("insiders") and 15 undergraduate students ("outsiders"), engaging in a semester-long exploration of the history of crime and punishment in the United States. It’s a bold concept, and the film captures its raw emotional impact.
Directed by Eden Wurmfeld, who shares a long history with Professor Hillyer dating back to their 7th-grade days in New York City, 'Classroom 4' has already won prestigious awards, including the Jury Award for Best Documentary at the Aspen Film Shortsfest and Best Documentary at the LA Shorts International Film Festival. Wurmfeld says she’s been aware of the program since Hillyer began participating in 2012. "It’s called the Inside-Out Prison Exchange Program. And it’s actually an international program, and teachers of any discipline can take the training and offer classes… I think for me, the film is as much about the encounter between these two groups, these two unlikely groups — and they’re learning from each other and with each other — as it is a testament to the power of incredible teaching and the gift of that.”
The film opens with the first class session. Students arrange themselves in concentric circles, the "outsiders" facing the "insiders." Professor Hillyer initiates icebreakers, prompting students to complete sentences like, "You might be surprised to learn that I __," and "The quality I value most in a friend is __." These simple exercises begin to dissolve the initial tension and apprehension.
This icebreaker isn't just for the students; it's for the audience too. Initially, some viewers might feel intimidated by the inmates. One prisoner, Joey, even admits to getting tattoos while incarcerated to appear tougher, a form of self-preservation in a harsh environment. But here's where it gets controversial… does this initial intimidation reflect our biases and preconceived notions about those behind bars?
Wurmfeld emphasizes her goal: "I really wanted to be able to show the relationship between the two groups of students and how separate and how anxious, fearful everyone was at first, and how they grew to be a unified group of students studying history and learning from each other and with each other."
Over 15 weeks, each Friday brings a new class exploring topics that, while academically abstract for outsiders, resonate deeply with the lived experiences of the "insiders." Discussions on mercy, and the "myths and realities of prison life," spark intense reflection and self-examination.
As the film progresses, we learn the stories behind the inmates' incarceration – histories of childhood abuse, struggles with drug addiction. Empathy begins to blossom. The men in prison blues transform from faceless criminals into individuals, human beings with complex pasts and unrealized potential. And this is the part most people miss… the film doesn't shy away from exploring the systemic issues that contribute to mass incarceration, raising questions about justice, rehabilitation, and societal responsibility.
"The voices of the men, to me, were so powerful and I really wanted to have as much real estate as possible for their voices,” Wurmfeld explains. "You go on this transformative ride. I know that even if the film never reaches ‘outside the choir,’ if you will, of people who tend to watch documentaries — and that is a self-selecting group, and I’m definitely in that choir — that this shifted my own preconceived notions that maybe I didn’t even know I had.”
Edward Norton, a multiple Oscar nominee, was profoundly moved by the documentary and served as its executive producer. He boldly states, "The thing that kind of blew me away about the film was the degree to which it refuses to let you dehumanize anyone. It insists that you see the complex humanity and even the shared empathy between people across these structural divides that we’ve created. And to me, ultimately, it’s so hopeful. It reminds you that we shouldn’t give up on the hope of finding commonality between people… I haven’t watched it with anybody who wasn’t pretty much moved to tears by it.”
Norton continues, "It’s a weird phrase, but to me, it made me almost grieve. I think part of why it’s emotional is because you’re grieving for all this lost potential in people and you grieve for the whole society and the way that we’re missing the opportunity in so many ways to connect with each other. I think maybe the thing I think is the most valuable about [the film] is that it has an actual catalytic effect. When you watch it, I think you end up saying to yourself, ‘What opportunities am I missing to be empathetic?’ Here’s this professor, she’s taken her work in American history and she’s turned it into an opportunity to liberate people and open them up and make them think deeper, feel deeper. And it does make you look at yourself in the mirror and say, ‘Am I looking at people reductively and shutting them out? How can I be opening myself up and seeing people?’”
Professor Hillyer herself admits to shedding tears at least once per class. Her unwavering belief in the potential of individuals often dismissed by society might be seen as a radical act in today's world. Could her compassion be interpreted as naivete by some? Or is it a powerful form of resistance against a system that often prioritizes punishment over rehabilitation?
"We’re living in a time where often compassion is seen as a weakness,” Wurmfeld observes. “And one of the things that I really value about what the film became is that it underscores that empathy can be resistance. And I just believe in that so deeply, and it’s the way I want to carry myself in the world and the way I want to engage. And it does make living in these times maybe all that much harder, but I’m certainly not giving up on it.”
'Classroom 4' is available to watch for free on the PBS website. Norton praises its ability to achieve cinema's core mission – fostering empathy and shared humanity – in under 40 minutes.
"I think the greatest aspiration in film is always to create a feeling of empathy and shared humanity between an audience and each other,” he says. “It’s almost like to bind people together or make people feel their common humanity in one way or another.”
After watching 'Classroom 4,' what are your thoughts? Do you believe empathy can be a form of resistance? And what opportunities are you missing to connect with others and challenge your own biases? Share your reactions in the comments below!
