It happens once in a blue moon. Sat in a large, packed auditorium, you suddenly become aware of the total silence surrounding you. Nobody moves. Nobody says a word. Everybody is spellbound, transfixed by what they’re watching on the screen in front of them. In this instance, the film was Nickel Boys.
Director RaMell Ross’s adaptation of Coleson Whitehead’s novel of the same name is an extraordinary piece of cinema, one that’s simultaneously personal yet universal. At its centre is black teenager, Elwood (Ethan Herisse), raised by his grandmother (Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor) in the Jim Crow 60s. Academically bright, he’s encouraged by his English teacher to get involved in the civil rights movement and go to community college. But he was hitching a ride with a stranger in a car that turns out to be stolen ends with him being sent to a reform school, The Nickel Academy, where racism is as endemic as in the outside world. While the white boys live in a nice building and play football, living conditions for the black boys are rough, they’re forced to take part in rigged boxing matches and defiant inmates are beaten to death. At Nickel, Elwood meets Turner (Brandon Wilson) whose worldview is more cynical, but the two become close friends and confidantes. Turner’s advice turns out to be crucial to Elwood’s survival.
Ross’s perspective on the story, and its two main protagonists, is one of his film’s many strengths, the origin of its power, in fact, turning it into a genuinely unforgettable experience. It’s shot from a personal point of view, initially as if through the eyes of Elwood himself: we get to know him from what he says, but as the minutes tick by, we long to see his face and the occasional blurred reflection, by way of introduction, just isn’t enough. Once he’s made friends with Turner, the camera switches to his viewpoint, subsequently alternating between the two. And sandwiched between their individual commentaries is archive footage from the time, world-changing events like the Apollo 8 moon mission and the rise of Martin Luther King, all dwarfed by the tiny TV screens of the day.
There’s a dream-like, hypnotic quality to the storytelling, one that’s also selective in what we’re allowed to see. What we’re not shown is all the more powerful for it. We know that savage beatings take place behind closed doors in Nickel. We don’t hear them, we don’t see them. All we’re shown is the grimy, empty room where they take place and the contemptible officer, Spencer (Hamish Linklater), dripping with sweat after meting out a thrashing. It’s chilling. Calling Nickel Boys a coming-of-age story sounds too flippant even though, strictly speaking, that’s what it is, but in the sense of also fighting to survive and actually making it into adulthood when the odds are stacked against you. The shadow of Nickel never leaves the adult Elwood (Daveed Diggs) as he follows reports about multiple unmarked graves at the site, knowing full well that people he knew are in there somewhere.
The performances are universally fine, with Ellis-Taylor outstanding as the ever-supportive grandmother. Her warmth radiates from the screen and every time she comes towards the camera to give somebody a hug, she draws us in. We need that comforting embrace almost as much as the boys in a shattering, unsettling, and profoundly moving piece of filmmaking that stunned an audience into silence.
★★★★★
Playing as part of the BFI London Film Festival on 14th and 19th October / In UK cinemas on 3rd January 2025 / Ethan Herisse, Brandon Wilson, Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor, Daveed Diggs, Hamish Linklater, Jimmie Fails / Dir: RaMell Ross / Curzon / 12A
Discover more from
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.