The world of cinema is a place of institutions: from mainstay studios, long-revered directors and infamous producers, there are certain people and systems that both uphold the standards of film but also restrict the possibility of what could expand the artistic palette of the space.
Every now and then, someone slips between the cracks and — without making too much noise — introduces something to the taste buds of viewers that reminds them that there’s still more to taste in the realm of cinema that hasn’t been witnessed in its entirety just yet.
Enter preeminent writer/director RaMell Ross. Hot off the heels of his multiple award winning film Hale County This Morning, This Evening, Ross continues his narrative overview of the Black American experience with a period piece that offers both insights, reflections and commentary to the historical cruelties and complexities of a bygone era — topics which bleed into today’s world in both overt and unspoken ways.
Taking place in the Jim Crow days of 1962 Florida, a young African American, Elwood Curtis, is sent to a segregated reform school called Nickel Academy after being falsely accused of grand theft auto. Upon arrival, he forms a close friendship with another boy named Turner; together they endure the horrors of the school and its abusive wardens.
Comprised of a stellar cast of starring actors that you more often hear than see — especially in the case of dual protagonists Elwood and Turner — Nickel Boys is both an emotional deep dive as well as a cerebral feast as it takes us through the highs and lows of 1950s adolescence but also the repressed trauma of concurrent black society. Based off Colson Whitehead’s Pulitzer Prize-winning novel Nickel Boys (itself an adaptation of the true story of the history Dozier School for Boys of Florida and its ensuing legal troubles), the film follows its two protagonists from freedom to incarceration and back. Initially held down by acting powerhouse Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor as Hattie, the adoptive aunt and Elwood’s closest friend early in life, director RaMell Ross hands the reigns over to young actors Ethan Herisse and Brandon Wilson to carry the film over its troubled waters, woods and boarding houses.
Nickel Boys does several important time jumps, a sort of ‘in medias res’ effect, that both obscure the ending but also hint at the big reveal of the fate of its protagonists. Protagonist: an important word in a film with no particular heroes, but at least one character with a staunch ambition. Elwood Curtis draws us into the seemingly harmless world with a certain flavor of hopeful optimism that’s probably uncharacteristic of a black youth of the time, but is a relatable lens for youth at large in any day and age; a testament to RaMell Ross’ masterful staging.
Elwood views the world not like a black teen, but as a teen. He’s young, effervescent and curious, dealing with things like first girlfriends, friendships, a taste of adulthood through jobs and the love of a single mother. He sees glimpses and flashes of the zeitgeist of the time — Dr. Martin Luther King speeches on the radio, student protests on TV — and the activism resonates within him to a degree that holds even as he passes through the hopeless halls of Nickel Academy. And just when we’ve become accustomed to this promising view of the world, things come crashing down, Elwood is incarcerated and we’re introduced to Turner, another prisoner of the reform school who, despite his youth, shares none of Elwood’s optimism.
Ross, the director, walks a fine line here and now as the camera flips into a different set of eyes for the first time, we’re also presented with an opposing perspective. The film becomes a compelling commentary on the state of affairs for America’s Black population at the time in that as many people felt the stir of freedom around the corner, with so many political revolutionaries at work, there was probably an even greater amount of people who simply felt overlooked and unreached by the protests, speeches and promises of the greater government. We get a sobering taste of this when we contrast Turner’s outlook with Hattie’s, whom comes to visit Elwood several times at Nickel, with promises of judicial vindication that never pan out.
The cast of Nickel Boys is small but mighty, with power, heartbreaking performances from Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor, Ethan Herisse, and Brandon Wilson; the younger members of the cast have the chops to carry the film over its runtime without too much assistance from the older actors, which doesn’t happen too often. Wilson finds a relatable balance that opposes Elwood’s views on life without being a heel, and he’s ultimately one of the characters you root for because you end up understanding them.
The film’s most immediate stand-out feature is its use of first-person perspective; we live through the eyes of Elwood as he grows through the racist American South, and into a version of the prison industrial complex that has weighed down African Americans for years. There’s a bit of a tell halfway through the film that, if you’re paying attention, does give away the ending pretty easily. Daveed Diggs portrays an older Turner and there’s a bit of an identity swap that happens midway into the film; by hiding his face, Ross ends up directing more attention to it.
And, speaking of paying attention: Nickel Boys is a very slow film, and that won’t be to everyone’s taste. It is artsy, scenic and emotionally expansive, but even during the final chase scene, there’s barely action to be found over the duration. Fortunately, it’s supplemented by solid dialogue and stylishly crated visuals, primarily shot on location in Louisiana with little to no discernible special effects treatments — a welcome change of pace in a very CGI saturated landscape. But for the most part, we watch two boys age, struggle and escape from a prison-esque compound over a long and grueling period of time with little respite from the mental and physical violence that is life for the African American of the 1960s.
The score for Nickel Boys is garnished by the sound of the time, throughout the film we get spurts of vintage records, the sounds of Americana, around which we have a very atmospheric and heartfelt score from returning RaMell Ross collaborators Alex Somers and Scott Alario. It’s simple, it’s clean and it does everything it needs to, when it needs to, to bring us in to the time, place and — most importantly — the feelings we need to connect with Elwood and Turner’s journey.
Nickel Boys is, at its heart, both a masterpiece of film and also a masterclass in adapting novel to screen while keeping it largely accurate to the book and true to history. It’s a tale of the cruelty of humanity at its worst, redemption and the triumph that follows the pursuit of truth. As the horrors of the academy come to light in the closing moments of the film across various investigations and news networks, and the dual identity of the adult ‘Elwood Curtis’ is revealed, we consider the unique ways purpose can be inspired and inspiration can be applied for a greater good than just ones own.
And if this movie can plant such a seed in the public consciousness — films tend to reach a touch farther than books do in many cases — then Nickel Boys deserves its place not only in the pantheon of all-time great Black films, but in America’s vast catalog of eternally-relevant classic period-piece dramas.