Nickel Boys (2024)

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.

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.