Nickel Boys, RaMell Ross’ narrative feature debut, is the story of a stubborn world, resisting change. Adapted from Colson Whitehead’s The Nickel Boys, it’s an experimental rendition shooting mainly through POV. We meet our protagonist not by looking at him, but by observing the world as he sees it. Elwood (Ethan Herisse) is the kind of Black young man society has always told him to be: patient, polite, non-threatening, and respectful of elders. When he sees a little girl pop up under his seat on the bus, he chats with her pleasantly. He’s good to his grandmother Hattie (Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor) and feels encouraged by his teacher (Jimmie Fails). Quiet and observant, Elwood looks at the world and sees promise for a better future. It’s the 1960s in Jim Crow-era Florida; his subjugation is the status quo, but Elwood believes times are changing. He believes in Dr. King and the power to change minds peacefully, bolstered by his education.
He’s college-bound when he hitches a ride with a kind Black man in a nice car. The future seems bright for both until a cop pulls them over and identifies the car as stolen. Even though Elwood had nothing to do with the theft, it doesn’t matter. He’s sent to Nickel Academy, a dangerous reform school for boys. Segregation makes the experience even worse––Elwood and the other Black boys are subjected to substandard living quarters, fewer privileges, and harsher punishments. The man in charge, Spencer (Hamish Linklater), says Nickel Academy will teach the boys how to be worthwhile members of society. But when Elwood stands up for another boy who’s being assaulted, he’s immediately punished for it. Nickel Academy has no interest in reforming these boys––all they really want is to teach them how to accept their marginalization.
Elwood’s new friend Turner (Brandon Wilson) knows this already, his bitterness contrasting with Elwood’s optimism. Together they make a nice duo, keeping to themselves as much as they can. Turner has no family to go back to; Elwood becomes like a brother as they both endure the worst of what humanity has to offer. The boys are forced to do hard labor, given a poor education, and often denied contact with the outside world. The script, co-written by Ross and Joslyn Barnes, is spare, making every word count––dialogue is naturalistic, not interested in calling attention to itself. The images speak loud, and as the narrative progresses Ross shows us scenes of the future as an older Elwood confronts the trauma of his past. There’s something dreamlike about these sequences, and at first it’s hard to discern if they’re happening at all. Did Elwood make it through everything, out of Nickel Academy and into the real world? Or is he just imagining the life he could lead? The film eventually answers these questions, its truth bittersweet.
We know now that the prison industrial complex runs on free labor, informed by books like The New Jim Crow and Ava DuVernay’s documentary 13th. But there’s something especially insidious about taking young Black boys during the Civil Rights Movement and killing their hopes and dreams before they’re even old enough to pursue them. The tragedy of Elwood’s situation is a systemic one, affecting boys like him and Turner all over America––even now. Whitehead’s novel was based on the horrific Arthur G. Dozier School for Boys, a corrupt institution that opened in 1900 and didn’t close until 2011. For over a century, boys were beaten, sexually assaulted, and murdered, their bodies often buried in unmarked graves on school property. Even through years of so-called “progress,” this hellscape remained.
Herisse and Wilson are incredible in their respective roles, with a connection that is both quiet and deeply felt. When onscreen, their faces reflect a depth of emotion that shows their pain, even if they don’t want to express it. And when they look at each other the connection is electric, as if they were brothers who’d known each other their whole lives. Ellis-Taylor is amazing as always––her smile lights up the screen while her warmth gives viewers momentary respite from the sheer brutality the boys must contend with. Cinematographer Jomo Fray doesn’t let his camera linger on the pain for too long, finding moments of poetic beauty in the sky and surrounding vegetation. The glory of the world is at odds with the ugliness of racism and abuse, reminding us that life was not made to be this way.
Nickel Boys is a difficult film to define or boil down to constituent pieces. It feels alive like an open, bleeding heart. It’s a tragic story told with hope that doesn’t ring saccharine or overwrought. Sometimes it moves like water, flowing from ugliness to beauty. There are few American films that come close to what it accomplishes, as either film or adaptation. Nickel Boys suggests a miracle, with the makings of a classic.
Nickel Boys opened the 62nd New York Film Festival and will be released on December 13.
The post NYFF Review: Nickel Boys Finds Miraculous Beauty in the Horrors of the World first appeared on The Film Stage.
