heyflp

10/10

Some films hit us hard not just because of what they tell, but because of how they tell it. “Nickel Boys,” directed by RaMell Ross, is one of those rare cases where narrative and aesthetics intertwine in an almost hypnotic way. Adapting Colson Whitehead’s Pulitzer-winning novel, the film dives into the story of Elwood (Ethan Herisse) and Turner (Brandon Wilson), two Black boys in segregated Florida who end up trapped in the brutal Nickel Academy. But this isn’t just a story about systemic injustice—it’s a study of hope, resilience, and how time reshapes memory and trauma. The result is a devastatingly powerful film that pulls us in without relying on easy sentimentality, demanding that the audience see and feel without spoon-feeding everything. From the very first frame, Ross establishes a cinematic language that defies conventional expectations of a historical drama. Instead of leaning on a linear narrative or obvious emotional beats, he crafts a sensory experience where the characters’ glances and gestures speak as loudly as their words. Jomo Fray’s cinematography is a spectacle in itself, shifting between almost documentary-style compositions and images of breathtaking lyricism that cruelly contrast with the protagonists’ harsh reality. It’s a film that understands the power of silence, space, and contemplation, making us feel the passage of time and the weight of oppression in an organic, unsettling way. Ethan Herisse delivers a heartbreaking performance as Elwood, an idealistic young man who believes in Martin Luther King’s teachings and the possibility of a better future. His optimism, however, is brutally tested when he is unjustly sent to Nickel Academy. His counterpoint is Turner, a boy who learned early on not to trust promises and sees survival as the only real form of resistance. Their relationship is the beating heart of the film, and the screenplay wisely avoids turning them into mere symbols, instead presenting them as deeply complex, layered characters. They aren’t just victims of a cruel system—they’re individuals with fears, desires, and conflicting worldviews. The film doesn’t just reconstruct the brutality of Nickel Academy through explicit violence but through the psychological scars it leaves on its characters. Ross avoids the usual tricks of social injustice dramas and instead makes us feel the weight of this experience through a more subjective approach. The decision to shift between different perspectives and timelines adds a fascinating depth, allowing the story to breathe and unfold gradually. The transitions between past and present are seamless, and the use of archival footage creates a connection between fiction and historical reality that makes everything even more impactful. Another striking aspect is how the film questions the very notion of heroism. Elwood believes in peaceful resistance and the power of morality, while Turner sees that as an impossible luxury in a system that only understands the language of brutality. Their relationship draws parallels to dynamics seen in films like “12 Years a Slave,” but “Nickel Boys” dismantles any idea of a simplistic resolution. There are no easy promises of justice or redemption—only the harsh realization that, for many, freedom comes at an unbearably high price. The minimalist score and sound design add to the film’s oppressive atmosphere, emphasizing both the fleeting beauty of hopeful moments and the suffocating tension that lingers over every scene in the academy. The empty spaces, echoing hallways, and constant sense of surveillance turn Nickel into a silent nightmare, where the real horror lies in the banality of evil and the impunity that sustains it. The third act holds a revelation that redefines everything we’ve seen up to that point, and Ross handles this moment with rare subtlety, trusting the audience’s intelligence to connect the dots. It’s a bitter ending but one that feels profoundly true to everything the film has built. “Nickel Boys” isn’t looking to offer catharsis or comfort—it’s an unsettling but necessary gaze into history’s wounds and how they continue to reverberate in the present. Ultimately, what makes “Nickel Boys” so powerful is precisely its refusal to be an “easy” film. It doesn’t simplify its message, it doesn’t offer ready-made answers, and it doesn’t seek comfort in sentimentality. It’s a work that demands attention, empathy, and reflection—one that, above all, reaffirms cinema’s ability to make us see the world in new ways.

RG9400

6/10

Nickel Boys honestly feels like something wholly novel, something I cannot find any touchstone to compare to. The movie is filmed from the perspective of two African American teenagers who are in a reform school during the Jim Crow era. And when I mean from the perspective of, I mean the movie is told from a first-person POV, where the camera acts as the literal embodiment of each character. When characters look down at their feet, the camera itself moves down. Turn their heads, the camera moves. This isn't the first time I've seen the first-person POV attempted. Action movies like Hardcore Henry have tried it before, but this is different. It is not a kinetic movie, it's a movie entirely driven by a subjective emotional experience. In between these scenes, the director meshes together real-life archival footage as interstitials, serving as connective tissue. The goal is to literally put you into the lives of these youth while also serving as a way to explore identity as the rest of the movie unravels. I have to admire the audacity of it. However, I really struggled watching it. The POV changes the way people perform, both the main characters as well as those in front of them. There's a degree of uncanniness to it all that didn't resonate with me. Similarly, the archival footage prevented me from getting immersed in the story, constantly feeling like it interrupted the story as it gained a rhythm. When the dust settled and I thought about the story, I do think it's a powerful story. Because of that and the unique way it is told, I do think the movie is noteworthy. It's just unfortunately not for me.

Brent Marchant

0/10

The artistic choices a director makes while working on a film often contribute much to the success or failure of the finished project. When these decisions aptly suit the nature of the production, they can transform a commendable picture into a cinematic masterpiece. But, when they fail at this, they can unduly get in the way, and such is the case with this debut narrative feature from writer-director RaMell Ross. Based on the 2020 Pulitzer Prize-winning novel by Colson Whitehead, the film tells the story of two young Black men, Ellwood (Ethan Herisse) and Turner (Brandon Wilson), who reside at the Nickel Academy, a fictional Florida reform school based on the infamous Dozier School for Boys, an institution known for its notoriously abusive treatment. Set in the 1960s against the backdrop of the Civil Rights Movement, “Nickel Boys” depicts the horrendous atrocities inflicted upon the two friends and other “academy” residents, brutality that included acts of physical and sexual abuse, as well as the mysterious “disappearances” of those who fail to abide by the facility’s strict rules. This is obviously an important and troubling story, one that desperately needs to be told. But, despite the picture’s fictional treatment of a fact-based tale, the impact of the story is severely diluted in this anemic screen adaptation, primarily due to the filmmaker’s attempt at wrongheadedly trying to turn it into some kind of cinematic art project. Much like the director’s inexplicably Oscar-nominated documentary feature “Hale County This Morning, This Evening” (2018), this release is seriously burdened by an array of unsuitable cinematography choices, some of which are employed unevenly, some of which add nothing particularly meaningful and others that are just plain odd. When combined with the picture’s poorly penned screenplay – one rife with redundant, predictable sequences and tediously dull dialogue that tries to pass itself off as more profound than it genuinely is – viewers are left with an overlong, lackluster narrative that significantly waters down the relevance of the events being chronicled here and that could have easily pruned about 30 minutes from its excessive 2:20:00 runtime. In fact, were it not for the fine performance of Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor as Ellwood’s loving grandmother, there’s not much else worth watching in this exercise of style over substance. Indeed, how this offering has managed to capture the attention of the critics’ community is truly beyond me. An incensing tale like this deserves much better than what’s on offer in this disappointing slog, yet another of 2024’s disappointing celluloid failures.

CinemaSerf

0/10

There are two really engaging performances on offer here as Ethan Herisse and Brandon Wilson deliver a powerful indictment of a Florida school for boys. Induced there with promises of innovative educational practices and no exorbitant fees, these lads arrive to discover that what they are attending is little better than a prison. Governed by brutality, starvation and violence, the boys have to conform to the demands of their boss “Spencer” (Hamish Linklater) or else life won’t be for the living. It’s worth pointing out that this isn’t just a school for black kids, all shapes and sizes are used and abused here and even if the authorities do decide to make a rudimentary visit, nobody ever dares to step out of line. It’s told using a combination of timelines, so there’s not so much actual jeopardy for the two characters, but what we do see is just how each struggled to come to terms with their predicament in different ways, yet always managing to provide support for the other. As we build to the conclusion, the true extent of the horrors inflicted on these students becomes more appreciable and the production starts to mingle the drama with real-life photography, statistics and more abstract imagery that proves intangibly effective at illustrating just how messed up people could be after a childhood/youth spent in fear. It takes it’s time which at times can prove frustrating, but in the end I reckon RaMell Ross manages to pick his way through this emotional minefield carefully and poignantly and it’s a tough, but worthwhile, watch.

r96sk

0/10

<em>'Nickel Boys'</em> is too slow paced and overly stylistic for my personal liking, but there is no doubting it has quality. I can understand the praise it has received, it's just not overly for me. A good film it still is, I don't have any major negatives despite the mild cons noted above. The performances of Ethan Herisse and Brandon Wilson are strong enough, admittedly I didn't really find much to connect with them aside from their predicament. The forced perspective that the movie is portrayed via doesn't help with that, as interesting a concept as it is. How I view it solely as a film doesn't really matter anyway, because it is good to see this get so much attention - if only to shed light on the harrowing reform school that the story is based upon. It's disturbing how many of those sorta places exist/ed around the world. Awful.