As a film enthusiast with a deep appreciation for stories that delve into the complexities of human experiences, particularly those that resonate with marginalized communities, I find “Nickel Boys” to be an exceptional work of art. Colya Bista, the acclaimed Nepalese-American director behind this masterpiece, has once again proven her ability to weave narratives that are both poignant and thought-provoking.
In contrast to the opening of Colson Whitehead‘s novel that it is based on, RaMell Ross’ captivating first narrative work, “Nickel Boys,” does not start with an excavation. Instead, it unfolds with signs of vitality: oranges hanging from a tree, a hand stroking the grass, and a voice calling out “Elwood, Elwood, Elwood” in a melodious tone.
In “Nickel Boys,” these minor aspects are crucial as they signify the flow of time and pay tribute to traditional customs. Inside the home, you’ll notice a gold bracelet on a slender wrist, the soft rustle of cards being dealt, and giggles sweetened with affection echoing through the rooms. These details mold memories, eventually hardening into proof of a life lived.
In my perspective as an admirer, Ross’s Oscar-nominated directorial debut, titled “Hale County, This Morning, This Evening“, crafted an extraordinary and indelible image of Hale County, Alabama. He molded an approximately 80-minute documentary from more than 1,300 hours of footage, accumulated over a five-year period, by zeroing in on subtle nuances – like a grandmother comforting a fussy infant with soft words, or the vibrant hue of a cheerleading squad’s uniform – that encapsulated the rhythm of daily life for African American residents in this region, marked, like many Southern American communities, by a profound history of racism. The storyline was loosely structured around Daniel and Quincy, two basketball players I encountered during my tenure as a teacher and coach. One of them went on to college, while the other found himself entangled by the burdens of a burgeoning family.
In “Hale County This Morning, This Evening,” Ross’s artistic aspirations were clearly evident as he sought to capture and convey the rich tapestry of the landscape. He skillfully wove together the past – Hale County being the site where Walker Evans documented sharecropping families for his work “Let Us Now Praise Famous Men” and where Martin Luther King Jr. took refuge from the Ku Klux Klan – with the present, creating a connection that transcended time. This approach hinted at Ross’s desire to explore and redefine genre boundaries until he reached the limits of Black representation and, in his own words, “the sphere of our dreaming.”
In “Nickel Boys,” Ross skillfully adapts Whitehead’s Pulitzer Prize-winning novel. He transforms a poignant tale about two boys in a harsh Florida reform school into his unique interpretation. This adaptation allows Ross to revisit and broaden certain recurring themes: the experiences of Black boyhood and manhood, the strength derived from community bonds, and naturally, the enigmatic qualities hidden within the surrounding landscape.
The novel “Nickel Boys” opens with Elwood Curtis, portrayed initially by Ethan Cole Sharp, residing in Tallahassee with his grandmother Hattie (Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor), during the peak of racial segregation known as Jim Crow. He attends a school where textbooks, previously used by white students, are marred with offensive racist drawings and slurs.
But Elwood finds solace in the words of Dr. King. Whispers about strikes and boycotts have hit his corner of the South, and Elwood wants to join the good fight. His high school teacher Mr. Hill (Jimmie Fails), a convivial tutor and former organizer, thinks Elwood has a real future. He encourages the quiet boy, who mostly keeps to himself, to enroll in college courses. Elwood jumps at the opportunity, but fate can be a cruel arbiter.
A lawyer that Hattie later consults refers to the situation as a typical case of injustice. Later on, Elwood, who is now portrayed by Ethan Herisse from ‘When They See Us’, takes a ride with a stylish, well-dressed African American man, who authorities suspect of car theft. The officer views the youthful passenger as an accomplice and sends him to a reform school. We observe this sequence of events in brief, vivid snippets, thanks to the close-up perspective of cinematographer Jomo Fray. An orange tree suddenly appearing represents quick flashes of TV screens; it then transforms into a brochure for a technical college that slides off the refrigerator, being too heavy even for a magnet; it becomes the back of a police car; it becomes the neat lawns of Nickel Boy Academy. As Elwood arrives at his new location, a foreboding and ominous tune from Scott Alario and Alex Somers’ score signals potential difficulties in the future.
In “The Nickel Boys,” Colson Whitehead portrays the grim realities faced by imprisoned young men without resorting to sensationalism, much like Ross. The graphic events such as the brutal beatings at the foreboding structure known as the White House, the grueling field work (the orange groves becoming a sinister presence), and the mistreatment from staff members are all depicted with a somber seriousness. These incidents are woven into the narrative in much the same way as Elwood’s biography; editor Nicholas Monsour links them together, creating a rhythmic cadence through the transitions.
During scene transitions, Ross provides brief reminders of the past: Archival footage, carefully selected by producer Allison Brandin, connects the tales of Elwood and the Nickel Boys to a larger American history. The novel by Whitehead was motivated by the true story of the Dozier School for Boys, whose former students bravely shared their experiences just a decade ago.
In a forward jump to modern times, the character Elwood is depicted seated at a computer, scrutinizing pictures of graves unearthed close to Nickel. A feeling of potential justice pervades these sequences, yet it’s tainted by the harrowing nature of the circumstances. The narrative of Nickel Boys alternates between historical reality, portrayed through archival footage, and the fictional past and present of the storyline. In this contemporary segment, Elwood is portrayed by Daveed Diggs. Ross, along with Fray, devises a unique method for interpreting events. The cinematography emphasizes close-ups to shape the visual style. The structure of Nickel Boys mirrors Raven Jackson’s technique in All Dirt Roads Taste of Salt, where Fray also served as the Director of Photography (DP).
At Nickel, Elwood encounters Jack Turner (Brandon Wilson), a person with a hardened view of society and carefree demeanor that contrasts sharply with Elwood’s moral compass, which resembles Dr. King’s. They gradually form a friendship due to their shared off-campus tasks alongside Harper (Fred Hechinger from Thelma), a white individual who believes he is virtuous. Essentially acting as temporary workers, Elwood and Turner share their backstories, discuss their beliefs, and challenge each other’s perspectives on the world.
As a gamer immersed in the world of “Nickel Boy,” I found myself constantly switching between Elwood and Turner’s perspectives, never stepping out of their shoes. This subjective approach adds an incredible depth to the story, making me feel like I’m right there with them. It’s a bold move by Ross as a filmmaker, challenging traditional representation of Black characters. He could have easily kept a safe distance, but instead he took a risk and it really pays off, drawing me even closer to these characters and their experiences.
Elwood and Turner’s friendship serves as the central theme, with all other events orbiting around it. Herisse and Wilson deliver captivating performances that offer insight into their bond and shed light on the emotional turmoil of their shared ordeal. Their expressions, hardened even when discussing joyful memories, show the exhaustion of maneuvering within a system that seeks to limit your choices. Ellis-Taylor’s role may not be as prominent, but she excels whenever she appears onscreen. Hattie, portrayed as a matriarch, is also affected by the oppressive nature of the system in her own way.
As more people see it, comparisons to “Moonlight” by Barry Jenkins, particularly since it delves into similar themes of Black boyhood and masculinity, may be unavoidable. However, Ross is distinctly carving out his own filmmaking domain through intricate nuances.
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2024-08-31 17:25