Without fail, there is at least one big movie every year that falls prey to the adage “style over substance,” a film that postures as an opus, but is really just filled with hot air and covered in papier-mâché with the word “masterpiece” scrawled all over its still-drying surface. It would be easy for an undiscerning eye to dismiss director RaMell Ross’ “Nickel Boys” as one such flashy piece of Oscar bait. On paper, Ross’ film fits the bill; it is an adaptation of Colson Whitehead’s 2019 Pulitzer Prize-winning novel of the same name and shot entirely from a first-person vantage point. Ross’ conceit is so distinct that it immediately sets “Nickel Boys” apart from every other highly anticipated release this year, yet it’s that same storytelling device that will undoubtedly lead some viewers and critics to disregard it entirely. Listen to me when I shake you by the shoulders and tell you: That would be a grave error.
While Ross’ style undeniably calls attention to itself, the director is prescient enough to know that some will see his untraditional mode as a mere affectation. In response, Ross doubles down, moving his camera with a lilting, ethereal swing and holding shots for far longer than any real person would fix their gaze. It’s a disconcerting choice, one that hypnotizes as much as it unnerves. And appropriately so, given that “Nickel Boys” puts its audience quite literally in the shoes of two people who find themselves in a nightmare.
The film is set primarily at Nickel Academy, a segregated reform school in Jim Crow-era Florida based on the real-life Dozier School for Boys, known for the litany of atrocities that were committed against its students during its decades in operation. It’s there where students Elwood (Ethan Herisse) and Turner (Brandon Wilson) form a brotherly bond to endure their dire situation. Elwood has been shipped off to Nickel after being accused of aiding and abetting a crime, despite his innocence and the protest from his grandmother, Hattie (Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor). Once there, Elwood quickly realizes that his highly perceptive nature will both help and hinder his survival.
When Elwood meets Turner, Ross begins to switch between their vantage points, widening the film’s emotional aperture in the process. Though “Nickel Boys” is confined only to what we can see through two eyes, its ambitions are much more grand. The film is a sweeping landscape of poetic imagery, interspersed with only glimpses of the alarming evil lurking just outside its purview. By evading malevolence and earnestly focusing on the strength of the human spirit, Ross paints a vital portrait of resilience that puts the director in a class all his own.
Before Elwood begins his plight at Nickel, we’re treated to a lush introduction to his early life as a boy growing up in his grandmother’s care. How exactly Elwood came to live with Hattie isn’t explained. Instead, we’re offered only enough information to begin stitching the pieces together, watching Elwood mature through warm vignettes as he twirls his fingers against ripe oranges, clinging to their branches, and the soft lights on a Christmas tree. Glimpses of this young Elwood (Ethan Cole Sharp) arrive in the passing reflection of a steaming, metal iron or a shop window displaying televisions airing news of the budding Civil Rights movement. While these shots initially feel a bit on-the-nose, they’re meant to be narrative inflection points; it’s during these brief moments in his childhood when Elwood first understands his place as a person in a changing world. At the same time, they supply enough grace for the viewer to settle into the point-of-view shooting style before the crux of the film’s story begins.
While another filmmaker might force viewers to watch and endure the extent of the suffering Elwood and his peers weather — certainly, there has been no shortage of movies on similar subject matter in recent years that have done just that — Ross takes a different approach. Any images of graphic violence are forgone for droning, surrealist soundscapes that communicate the fear felt inside the boundaries of Nickel Academy just as effectively. What Ross does is far more potent, even radical. He strips Whitehead’s story of its most explicit sights of racial violence and instead trusts that the viewer will empathize with his characters, understanding that any filmmaker worth their salt should be able to communicate the presence of evil without expressly showing it.
But “Nickel Boys” does not merely imply brutality and endless strife. There are moments of tender resplendence that are as piercing as the cruelty — compassion that counterbalances the inhumanities Elwood faces. When Elwood meets Turner, the film takes on an air of hope, and the jump between the vantage points of both boys creates a sense of kinship that’s as critical for the viewer as it is for Elwood. One of the few drawbacks of “Nickel Boys” is it prioritizes an untraditional means of storytelling over the performances of its very capable actors. That’s a fair point of objection, especially for those who come to the movies to see actors act. In a film that’s so concerned with placing us in the perspective of a character, it can occasionally feel limiting to only witness the performers working through another person’s gaze.
The introduction of Turner somewhat cushions that constriction, but more so by the sights of Ellis-Taylor’s remarkable Hattie. Hattie has all the affection you’d expect from a grandmother, but her presence brings a singular comfort to “Nickel Boys,” like a soft blanket being draped across a burlap bed. At one point in the film, Hattie tries to visit Elwood at Nickel but is turned away. Amid her distress, she runs into Turner, who promises to pass on a message from Hattie to her grandson. Their conversation is replete with affection and care, and Ellis-Taylor turns in one of the movie’s most extraordinary moments. It’s momentous yet quiet, and Hattie’s strength lies in how measured Ellis-Taylor can be. In a movie that doesn’t rely on its performances to prove its worth, Ellis-Taylor still manages to say so much in a relatively short time in front of the camera.
“Nickel Boys” deftly embeds this warmth inside its core like a glowing jewel. The film is sumptuous yet sickening, gentle but gripping. In its back half — and particularly in its coda — Ross favors long takes and compilations of stirring imagery from cinematographer Jomo Fray to cap his story. This final stretch of the film is its most profoundly moving, evoking human anguish and perseverance in equal measure through abstract sights to communicate with the viewer on a cellular level.
While some might argue that something so image-focused belongs in a museum over a movie theater, that argument is antithetical to Ross’ point as a director. These memories, these experiences, are not pieces of static history meant to be admired in a gallery before moving on to something else. They’re meant to pierce the soul in a way that stays with the viewer, and Ross has made a film that will endure. Brutal images of Black trauma and suffering are of no use to “Nickel Boys”; there is too much of a possibility that one might bury those sights so far down that they’ll forget about them entirely just to absolve the grief and guilt. Instead, Ross crafts something that will live alongside viewers, much in the way that Jonathan Glazer’s masterwork “The Zone of Interest” did just last year. They will remember the undeniable beauty splayed out in each frame, and how unsettling it felt to know and acknowledge all of that earthly magnificence while being steeped in pure, unfettered despair and fear. Like a nightmare, there is always a sense that larger trouble is hidden just out of sight. It’s there where “Nickel Boys” will live: In the peripheral, walking right alongside us.
"Nickel Boys" opens in New York on Friday, Dec. 13 and in Los Angeles on Friday, Dec. 20, expanding to additional markets in subsequent weeks.
