Los chicos de la Nickel

A harrowing tale of abuse and mistreatment of colored youths at a reform school. It is exclusively told from the subjective POV of the main character and a fellow intern he befriends at the school. While I appreciate the ambition behind this, it unfortunately and somewhat paradoxically distances me from the main character. Some early scenes felt a bit contrived and forced with this technique, the dialog never flowing in a natural way. Watched this at Stockholm Film Festival without subtitles was also a bit of a challenge since it was very difficult to make out the dialog in certain scenes. You could grasp the events, but details was lost on me. Despite these objections regarding the stylistic choice, the story was still somewhat gripping but overall, it could have been even more so using a more traditional narrative.

Despite all the issues I ended up having with it, I do admired Nickel Boys for delivering a unique experience that doesn't feel like something I've seen in any other movie. It's a very stylistic movie that attempts to tell an important story in an interesting way but unfortunately the story telling method didn't work for me overall. I very much not a fan of POV shots in movies since I find them so distracting and unnatural so filming an entire movie in that way was something I found to be extremely frustrating. It just kept me at a distance from these characters since I'm not seeing how they react during pivotal scenes. Instead of trying to get immersed in the experience I found myself more focused on the camera work in all the wrong ways. It's a very harrowing tale and one that understands the things we don't see on screen are all the more impactful. With it being such a disturbing story a vision that I could've actually gotten on board with would've done so much to get me wrapped up in this experience. But as it is I just found it to be a bit of a miserable watch that dragged unbelievably for me. I do admire the risks that this movie takes and more than that I see what RaMell Ross was going for. It's beautifully acted and did make me feel some genuine emotions while watching it but the main thing I felt when all is said and done is frustration.

RaMell Ross transforms Colson Whitehead's Pulitzer-winning novel into an immersive cinematic experience that confronts systemic racism with unflinching honesty and artistic brilliance.

RaMell Ross's Nickel Boys is not a film that watches passively. It demands engagement, understanding, and empathy from its audience, much like the Pulitzer Prize-winning novel by Colson Whitehead on which it is based. Through its daring visuals and emotionally charged storytelling, Nickel Boys immerses viewers in the horrors of the fictional Nickel Academy, a reform school in 1960s Florida modeled after the real-life Dozier School for Boys.

The film follows Elwood (Ethan Herisse) and Turner (Brandon Wilson), two young Black men navigating the systemic abuse, violence, and dehumanization at Nickel Academy. Ross opts for an intimate, first-person cinematic technique with the help of director of photography Jomo Fray, ensuring the audience doesn't just watch the story but experiences it through the eyes of its protagonists. From the stolen car that seals Elwood's fate to the mirrored ceiling reflecting fleeting moments of connection, the cinematography is both haunting and poetic.

Ross doesn't shy away from discomfort. Instead, he leans into it, capturing moments of injustice with brutal authenticity. One of the film's most harrowing sequences involves a Nickel supervisor (Hamish Linklater) doling out punishment. The violence occurs off-screen, but the chilling sound of the strap and the visceral reactions of the boys leave an indelible mark. The film also uses historical references, like cutting in scenes from 1958's The Defiant Ones, to deepen the emotional resonance of Elwood and Turner's attempted prison break.

The performances are as captivating as the story. Herisse brings a quiet determination to Elwood, while Wilson's Turner is a revelation, showcasing a raw vulnerability that makes his arc unforgettable. Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor delivers a heartbreaking turn as Elwood's grandmother, Hattie, and Fred Hechinger exudes sinister menace as a trustee of the academy. In flash-forwards, Daveed Diggs portrays one of the survivors grappling with the haunting legacy of Nickel, a reminder that systemic racism's scars endure far beyond the immediate trauma.

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Ross masterfully balances artistry and substance, using his background as a photographer and documentarian (Hale County This Morning, This Evening) to craft a narrative that feels both tactile and transcendent. The visuals are stunning-orange trees swaying in the breeze, civil rights protests flickering on storefront TVs-but they never overshadow the film's thematic weight. The film dares to ask: How do you bear witness to atrocities while maintaining hope for a better future?

Ross's unique approach to storytelling is complemented by an equally daring narrative structure. The film's immersive technique places the audience directly into the emotional and physical landscapes of its characters. By shifting perspectives between Elwood and Turner, the audience is given a multi-faceted view of life at Nickel Academy-its suffocating oppression and fleeting moments of resilience. These shifting perspectives create a layered narrative that resonates on both personal and societal levels.

Some may find Ross's immersive, collage-like approach challenging, but it's precisely this audacity that makes Nickel Boys a must-watch. It's not just a film about the past but a searing indictment of a present still shaped by institutional racism in new and disturbing forms. The juxtaposition of Elwood's unyielding hope with Turner's hardened pragmatism paints a poignant picture of the different ways individuals navigate systemic oppression. This duality adds emotional depth to the story, making it both heart-wrenching and thought-provoking.

Ross also introduces moments of unexpected beauty amidst the darkness. The tactile warmth of a breeze on an orange tree, the quiet solidarity of shared meals, and the fleeting joy of stolen moments all serve as reminders of the humanity that persists even in the face of unimaginable cruelty. These moments are not mere embellishments but integral parts of the narrative, highlighting the resilience of the human spirit.

The film's climax, centered around Elwood and Turner's daring escape, is a masterclass in tension and emotional weight. The use of intercut scenes from The Defiant Ones adds a layer of meta-commentary on the history of cinematic depictions of race and resistance. The pursuit by a white trustee, portrayed with chilling menace by Fred Hechinger, serves as a stark reminder of the pervasive and relentless nature of systemic racism.

Nickel Boys is more than a movie-it's a cry for justice, a call to action, and a work of art that demands to be felt as much as seen. RaMell Ross's fearless storytelling, coupled with extraordinary performances, ensures this adaptation is both unforgettable and necessary. It challenges us to confront our shared history while offering glimmers of hope that change, however incremental, is possible.

Reviewed At Opening Night of the 62nd New York Film Festival at Alice Tully Hall on September 27, 2024.

This is by no means a bad film, but it is a frustrating one. Sure, we all appreciate a movie that tries to do something different-but let's not confuse "different" with "successful."

The film is shot in a POV style where the camera is meant to represent the character's perspective, which ends up being wildly distracting. Not only does this approach pull you out of the action, but there are moments where you're left wondering what the hell you're even looking at. For example, there are several shots of the back of someone's head. Who is seeing that? Are we supposed to believe the character can see the back of their own skull?

I shouldn't have to ask questions like that. And I wouldn't, if the film had drawn me in. But the overly gimmicky style makes that impossible. This could have been a very powerful movie-the subject matter certainly deserves it. However, the overly clever filmmaking drains it of any real impact.

The acting and writing just barely manage to save it from being a complete disaster, but you still leave the theater wanting so much more.

Colson Whitehead's Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, The Nickel Boys, a harrowing tale of abuse at a reform school during the Jim Crow era, deserved a cinematic adaptation that captured its potent grief and unflinching brutality. Unfortunately, RaMell Ross's film adaptation falls tragically short, not due to its faithful rendering of the narrative, but because of a deeply misguided and ultimately crippling approach to cinematography that renders the story practically incomprehensible.

The film follows Elwood Curtis, a bright and idealistic young black man wrongly sentenced to the Nickel Academy, a supposed institution of learning that is, in reality, a breeding ground for sadism and racial violence. We witness the horrors through Elwood's eyes, alongside his more cynical companion, Turner. However, witnessing these horrors is a frustratingly difficult task, thanks to Ross's baffling stylistic choices.

Instead of establishing a sense of place and allowing the audience to breathe in the suffocating atmosphere of Nickel, the film throws us into a relentless barrage of close-ups. Faces fill the frame, disembodied and divorced from their surroundings, leaving us with no context for their expressions or the environment that informs them. This constant proximity might have been effective in creating intimacy if it wasn't paired with a dizzying array of first-person perspectives.

We're thrust into the shoes of various characters, often with no clear indication of who we're supposed to be inhabiting. The camera becomes an erratic, disorienting stand-in for the eyes of the boys, sometimes even inexplicably positioned to stare at the back of Elwood's head. This technique, presumably intended to immerse us in the characters' subjective experiences, achieves the opposite effect. It detaches us, leaving us scrambling to understand basic spatial relationships and the narrative flow.

The result is a chaotic, disorienting mess. Scenes that should be emotionally impactful are reduced to a jumble of fragmented images. Key moments of violence are obscured by the shaky, often illegible camerawork. The film's attempts at conveying the psychological toll of trauma are lost in the visual clutter. It's as if the filmmakers were so determined to avoid a conventional approach that they forgot the fundamental purpose of cinematography: to tell a story visually.

While the performances from the young cast are commendable, particularly Ethan Herisse as Elwood, their efforts are ultimately undermined by the film's impenetrable style. "The Nickel Boys" had the potential to be a powerful and necessary piece of cinema, but it is ultimately undone by its own cinematic excesses. Instead of illuminating Whitehead's devastating story, the film buries it under a mountain of ill-conceived visual choices, leaving the audience lost in the dark, struggling to see the tragedy unfolding before them. It's a film that tragically fails to understand that sometimes, less truly is more.