NICKEL BOYS is one of a kind. That's not to say the narrative is brand-new. Two Black teens struggling to keep their sanity while stuck in an abusive institution brings to mind ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO'S NEST, THE GREAT ESCAPE, the millennial cinematic classic HOLES.
But where NICKEL BOYS differs, as the great Roger Ebert wrote, is in HOW it's about what it's about. The camera is an extension of the main characters, their first-person perspective. But unlike other films that've adopted this approach, NICKEL BOYS invests its energy into the authenticity of this perspective.
Think about yourself reading this. You might glance down, turn your head to see a phone notification. You might reread the last paragraph and conjure a mental image of Jack Nicholson or Nurse Ratched. Is that thought confined by a tiny editor in your head, INSIDE OUT-style, reacting with the timing of someone who wants the smoothest cut? No. It's instant. How can the experience of being human and all its minutia be translated to a cinematic language? That's where NICKEL BOYS shines.
Ross, along with cinematographer Jomo Fray, move their cameras patiently, deliberately in a manner that attempts to pull this off, described in interviews as a "sentient experience." As such, the result is immersive, at times feeling like I or you or she or he have possessed Elwood (Ethan Herisse) or Turner (Brandon Wilson) as they navigates their Black body through 1960s Florida.
By doing so, Ross reminds us that while we may not be Black, the story of Nickel Academy and its culture of murdering children, contrasted with the promise of new civil rights and space exploration, is not merely a subgenre of history. It's our collective memory. It's our duty and responsibility to accept, from which to learn and rebuke.
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