Inmate #1: The Rise Of Danny Trejo

And Gangs In Prison

Danny Trejo is the one legend among movie-loving convicts, the guy who rose out of a life of crime to be one of the most prolific character actors in Hollywood history. If you’ve ever loved his vicious, pock-marked visage on the screens big and small, it’s definitely a worthwhile journey to see this feature-length doc, which focuses less on his exciting cinematic career as much as his criminal roots.

There’s much to be said about Trejo’s climb up the call sheet from bit part extra to leading man. I still remember seeing the stellar 80’s sci-fi actioner “The Hidden” on the big screen with a contemporary audience. The roar when Trejo stood up in a cell and yelled at an alien onscreen was cacophonous, generating the biggest reaction from a crowd enthralled from an exuberantly entertaining movie. And the mournful “Awws” that circulated through the crowd as Trejo was immediately shot to death by said alien was near-farcical in its unexpected authenticity. The amusing subtext to modern audiences is imagining back then how Trejo looked at his surroundings, and his barely-audible one line, and thought, “I’ve made it.” 

I could watch a doc on that. But this documentary instead is about his difficulty in hostile state prisons, moving from institution to institution, initially opting for a life of drugs on the outside, and a life of violence on the inside. Much of this is told in the excellent book “Trejo: My Life Of Crime, Redemption And Hollywood”, so this documentary is kind of an adaptation. Trejo lovers will get a lot from that book, as well as this doc. But you may get even more if you’re interested in criminal attitudes, criminal hypocrisies, and, most damning, drug use.

Trejo’s story is spellbinding in retrospect, because of how it seems he committed to a life in and out of institutions, not unlike the other male members of his family. He talks about the day-to-day survival of incarceration, the gang influences. He talks about being underneath shot-callers, a reality of prison that seems ludicrous for anyone judging Trejo by his muscles and tattoos. He talks about family, friends and religion boosting him. But that modesty belies the decision he made to turn himself into more than just Inmate #1.

What comes across in the book and the documentary is that, as he began to make it in Hollywood, Trejo’s problems didn’t go away. There were still drug relapses, messy relationships. As he became a name in Hollywood (and found time to remain inconceivably jacked), he continued being a sponsor, visiting addicts and coaching them out of bad decisions and worse consequences. Tragedy follows Trejo throughout his life, and it continued even up until the release of this documentary. His journey was encouraging, but it didn’t make the man’s considerable problems go away. Which is true of post-prison life. The only hope when you get out is that your victories outnumber your misfortunes. Each day is a better day than one spent in prison, and you build from there.

What’s notable is the subtle but distinct decision Trejo made to change his life. He was prepared for the gang life, because in a volatile situation like incarceration, you search for whatever constant you can find, whatever family that will claim you. The problem is twofold. Firstly, the idea is that you will find protection from a prison gang, as long as you swear by them. This is, in essence, a transactional relationship, and they’re not healthy no matter where you find them. Secondly, gang life is much more savage in prison compared to on the outside, because in addition to other gangs, in addition to the staff that wants to ruin your day, you will have to deal with the gang themselves. They will NOT protect you, especially in circumstances where it seems as if someone has to be thrown under the bus to suit another gang. The worst beatings I saw in prison were “cars”/cliques beating on their own because of a perceived slight, a false promise, or a crooked secret. Trejo got out when he had the chance, but if they needed to get rid of him, someone would have. That’s the reality of prison life. No one is special, and everyone can be dumped out with the trash, gang or no gang affiliation.