I watched Nickel Boys and I really liked it! 4.5/5
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Some films shake you. Others leave you staring at the credits in silence, trying to process what you just witnessed. Nickel Boys, RaMell Ross‘ haunting adaptation of Colson Whitehead’s Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, falls into both categories. It’s a gut-wrenching, visually audacious, and deeply personal portrayal of institutional racism and lost innocence, made all the more powerful by its unconventional first-person perspective.
This isn’t a traditional historical drama—Ross refuses to let it be. Instead of crafting a safe, prestige-picture treatment of Whitehead’s novel, he leans into something more immersive, more confrontational. Watching Nickel Boys isn’t like passively observing history from a distance; it’s like being forced to live in it, to see through the eyes of Elwood Curtis and Turner as they navigate the horrors of Nickel Academy, a fictionalized version of Florida’s infamous Dozier School for Boys. This decision is jarring at first, but as the film unfolds, it becomes a devastating masterstroke.
A Story of Two Boys, and an American Nightmare
Set in 1960s Jim Crow-era Florida, the film follows Elwood Curtis (Ethan Herisse), an idealistic young Black teenager whose life takes a tragic turn when he’s falsely convicted of car theft and sent to the Nickel Academy. Elwood, raised on the words of Martin Luther King Jr. and fueled by a belief in justice, quickly realizes that Nickel is a place where those ideals don’t apply. The school is segregated, with White boys receiving education and opportunity while Black boys are subjected to back-breaking labor, horrific beatings, and, in some cases, death.
At Nickel, Elwood befriends Turner (Brandon Wilson), a street-smart, cynical counterpart to his optimism. Turner doesn’t believe in change—he believes in survival. The two form a fragile bond, clashing over whether to resist or submit, whether to hope or accept. Their friendship is the heart of the film, making its inevitable tragedy even more crushing.
The film’s structure oscillates between past and present, showing an adult Elwood (Daveed Diggs) running a moving company in New York while grappling with the trauma of Nickel. But as the story unfolds, a gut-punch revelation reframes everything we’ve seen, revealing the film’s true weight.
The Power and Peril of First-Person Filmmaking
Much has been made of Ross’ decision to shoot Nickel Boys in a first-person point of view, reminiscent of Lady in the Lake (1947). It’s an incredibly risky choice, one that could have easily felt like a gimmick. But here, it serves a purpose: forcing the audience to experience the world as Elwood and Turner do, stripping away any emotional detachment.
We don’t just watch Elwood get beaten—we feel the blows land. We don’t just see Turner’s wary glances—we experience his paranoia. The technique makes Nickel’s horrors unshakable, placing us inside a system designed to break young Black boys and erase their futures. It also brings a surreal, dreamlike quality to certain moments, especially in scenes where Elwood clings to hope.
However, this bold stylistic approach isn’t without its challenges. Some viewers may find the lack of traditional third-person framing alienating, and at times, the perspective limits our ability to connect with performances in a conventional way. That said, Herisse and Wilson deliver raw, emotionally charged performances even with these constraints, their voices carrying just as much weight as their unseen faces.
Aesthetically Arresting, Spiritually Devastating
Ross, whose previous work (Hale County This Morning, This Evening) blended documentary and poetic realism, brings that same sensibility here. His vision is uncompromising, his camera lingering on the textures of Nickel—the cracked walls, the cold metal bunks, the bloodstained switch used for punishments.
The cinematography by Federico Cesca captures both the beauty and horror of the American South: the oppressive weight of the reform school, but also the small, fleeting moments of hope, like a child staring up at the sky, dreaming of escape. Alex Somers’ score is equally haunting, weaving sparse piano and ambient sounds into a soundscape that underscores the film’s emotional depth.
The Performances That Carry the Film
Though the first-person perspective keeps us from lingering on traditional close-ups, the performances still shine. Ethan Herisse (When They See Us) is mesmerizing as Elwood, embodying the quiet determination of a boy who refuses to let his spirit be broken. His line deliveries—sometimes defiant, sometimes trembling with fear—carry immense weight.
Brandon Wilson’s Turner is equally impressive, serving as the pragmatic counterpoint to Elwood’s unwavering faith in justice. Their dynamic is beautifully realized, culminating in a heartbreaking final act that lingers long after the credits roll.
Daveed Diggs, as the older Elwood, brings a quiet, haunted quality to his scenes, while Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor, as Elwood’s grandmother, is heartbreaking in her portrayal of a woman powerless to save the boy she raised. Hamish Linklater plays Spencer, the school’s cold and calculating superintendent, with a terrifying level of restraint, making his character all the more chilling.
A Brutal but Necessary Watch
Nickel Boys is not an easy film. It’s harrowing, relentless, and at times, deeply upsetting. But it’s also essential. The true horror of Nickel Academy isn’t just in its physical brutality, but in the way it reflects real-life systems of racial oppression—systems that haven’t entirely disappeared.
Ross has crafted something unique here: a historical drama that doesn’t just depict the past, but makes us live it. While its experimental approach may alienate some viewers, for those willing to engage with it, Nickel Boys is an unforgettable experience.
It’s not just a film; it’s a confrontation. A demand to remember. A story that, tragically, still feels relevant today.