Nickel Boys - Review

Rating: 4 out of 5

THE work of American author Colson Whitehead has already been turned into one brilliant but harrowing TV mini-series, in the form of The Underground Railway. A second book, Nickel Boys, now gets a similarly sobering movie adaptation.

Inspired by the Dozier School for Boys, a long since closed reform school in Florida that was notorious for its abusive treatment of students (and subsequent discovery of unmarked graves and human remains), the story follows two members of the fictional Nickel school as they forge a friendship and attempt to survive.

It is directed by RaMell Ross (who previously helmed the Oscar-nominated documentary Hale County This Morning, This Evening) in a style that is distinct but challenging, given his decision to shoot it almost entirely from the point of view of those two characters: Ethan Herisse's Elwood and Brandon Wilson's Turner.

Hence, viewers see things solely from the character's perspectives, as the camera tracks what they are looking at. Yet while it lends proceedings a genuinely immersive feel, it can also be extremely disorientating - as the gaze of the camera doesn't always land where you assume it should be.

Indeed, Ross opts for some flights of fantasy reminiscent of the hypnotic filmmaking style of Terrence Malick at times (think The Tree of Life), while dropping in occasional snapshots of archive news and photography footage from real events, such as the Moon landings, the protest marches of Martin Luther King Jr, et al, to evoke a sense of history befitting the time period in which the story is set.

It's a bold decision and one that doesn't always succeed, taking viewers out of the drama at times as they try to work out what's going on, or why certain creative decisions have been made. It could also be argued that it weakens the impact of the performances, given that we often miss the facial expressions that may accompany an exchange or a monologue.

Not every viewer will see it through.

But for those that do, the journey is rewarding and, unfortunately, still timely - dealing, as it does, with racism, class, institutional abuse and cover-up.

Elwood (Herisse) is an African-American teenager living in racially segregated Tallahassee, Florida, during the early '60s. He resides with his grandmother, Hattie (Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor), and is an honest, hard-working student whose potential is spotted early on - so much so that he is offered a place at a college in a neighbouring town ahead of time.

It is on his way to attend that college that life takes a turn. He hitchhikes and is picked up by a fellow African-American in a big fancy car - only to find out that the car is stolen. Being a minor, however, Elwood avoids prison and is shipped off to a state-run reform school, the Nickel Academy, where he eventually meets another quiet boy, Turner (Wilson).

The two form an instant friendship marked, initially by its contrasts. Where Elwood retains a sense of hope in his situation and vows to stand up against the corruption and brutality he witnesses, Turner is more sceptical and more inclined to keep his head down. Both learn harsh life lessons.

If the set-up behind this story sounds familiar and in danger of becoming generic (no matter how relevant), the delivery is far from it. As previously stated, this is daring filmmaking and one that really lends it a ferociously unique - albeit divisive - identity.

And while there are moments that may baffle, frustrate and confuse, there are also some grand-standing sequences - several of which involve the return of Ellis-Taylor's Hattie, a rare beacon of hope and a visual representation of love. There is a bittersweet element to her appearances, too, as most accompany some kind of sad news or heart-break. But Hattie is, perhaps, the beating heart of the movie, achieving so much in just a few scenes.

Likewise, a sequence in which a grown-up Elwood (now played by Daveed Diggs) is recognised by a former Nickel boy, Chickie Pete (Craig Tate), and the two share a drink, while reminiscing about the past, is striking for how much it relates - as well as the emotional effect the experience of surviving Nickel has had on both of them (and others they know). Again, it's shot in a distinctive style - but it keeps viewers transfixed, nonetheless.

Inded, Ross conveys much through conversation or news footage, rather than dwelling too much on outright scenes of abuse: case in point, a brutal beating with a belt that is administered to Elwood and two friend is kept off camera; yet the sense of fear and pain is palpable - conveyed by the use of sound, in the form of the sound of the belt, the whimpering of its victims and the scared breathing of Elwood, outside listening. Similarly, those that are marched off to their deaths go quietly - their absence felt. Ross doesn't see the need to show the actual deeds.But the sense of loss and dread pervades.

Elsewhere, the central relationship between Elwood and Turner is also beautifully played and never more alive than when the director assumes a more conventional approach to his style, switching his camera between the actual faces of his performers. Their interaction offers hope, yet also allows for moments of introspection and vulnerability. The impact of their friendship transcends their confines, in many ways.

And while the denouement of the film is undoubtedly bittersweet, and informed by tragedy, there is a strange sense of optimism that instils something of a sense of hope in humanity - or at least those that choose to live by its finer instincts. It serves as a timely reminder to the perpetrators of abuse, both past and present: that the human spirit will find a way to prevail, no matter the hardships inflicted upon it.

It's little wonder that Ross chooses to reference the classic Sidney Poitier-Tony Curtis movie, The Defiant Ones, on at least a couple of occasions: in its own kind of masterful way, The Nickel Boys is a picture informed by that same kind of fighting spirit and defiance of its own.