“He who gets behind in a race must forever remain behind or run faster than the man in front.”

There is a scene towards the end of RaMell Ross’ Nickel Boys in which the two protagonists escape their abusive boarding school, taking flight by cycling down a rural road. Not far behind them are the authorities from the school, who give chase to them. The boys know that they are bound to get caught since their bicycles are not any match for the roar of the engine and the disdain of the people behind the wheel. Still, yet they nonetheless attempt to escape, knowing that this is not merely an attempt to be liberated from the abuse they suffered, but a matter of life and death, their efforts to survive overtaking all sense of logic. Ross took quite a risk in adapting the acclaimed novel by Colson Whitehead (from which the quote above was taken), not only because it is a text that tackles many intimidating themes, but it does so in a manner deeply unorthodox, which situates it outside the confines of what we would normally expect from such material. Set in the 1960s, the film tells the story of Elwood, who is sent to a reform school after accidentally getting involved with a car thief, which leads to unintended consequences at an institution for its intense discipline that borders on outright abusive at the best of times. It is here that Elwood meets Turner, another young man struggling with life as an African-American in a society that views him as inferior, despite his many merits. The pair become close companions and start to see hope for the future, their friendship revealing new possibilities for a life that is not defined by suffering and bigotry, but instead being able to live out their immense potential, regardless of the cost. Ross previously worked in non-fiction filmmaking, with his masterpiece Hale County This Morning. This Evening being amongst the most celebrated documentaries of the past decade, and in making his narrative debut, he proves his undeniable mettle as a filmmaker, crafting an engaging and compelling story of two young men adrift in a hostile world, doing whatever it takes to feel that elusive sense of belonging that they felt was not a guarantee, but rather a privilege afforded to a very select few, defined by the circumstances of one’s birth rather than anything they could achieve themselves.

Nickel Boys is an intimidating novel, not only in the sense that it is quite intricately written (and like many more complex texts, carried the label of being “unfilmable” based on its structure and the scope of its language) but also in the themes that Whitehead establishes as the foundation of the work. Ross prioritizes these elements, since they are central to both the specific story and the scope of its ideas, taking many enormous risks in terms of the subject matter and allowing it to flourish into something genuinely very engaging. It is primarily a coming-of-age story, set alternatively between the 1960s, where most of the narrative takes place, and a few scenes set in an era closer to the present day (seemingly around the 1990s), following Elwood as he navigates various challenges that come with being black in America, which has been a frequent point of conversation for well over a century now, even after the era of the Civil Rights Movement, to which the events of this film are shown to be concurrent. The two main thematic tentpoles of Nickel Boys are thus as a poignant bildungsroman, following Elwood as he comes of age and attempts to make sense of the world while still working his way through the ambigious space between adolescence and adulthood, and the theme of racial prejudice and the plight of young black men in the United States, and how even the most promising of people can have their lives entirely derailed by something as simple as a brief misunderstanding, which would be neglible for those fortunate enough to be born into the idealistic version of what society at the time thought was superior, whereas those who did not fit in were subjected to some of the most brutal treatment, formed from generations of race-related prejudice that ultimately became second nature to both parties – it seemed as if the belief that some races were biologically superior to others had become so intensely ingrained in American culture, it was consolidated into social structure, which we know are notoriously impenetrable and very difficult to shatter. Ross’ extraordinary attention to detail, in which he combines his vision with the author’s stunning words, creates a poignant socio-cultural tapestry that is both daunting and profoundly beautiful, following the protagonist as he sets out to overcome the obstacles that stand ahead of him, firm in his belief that he will make some change. Whether or not he is successful is not important, since Nickel Boys is a film less about the destination and far more focused on the journey, which is brilliantly reflected in every frame of this film.

A novel as sprawling and innovative as The Nickel Boys warranted a directorial vision that could match, and while Ross may not have had experience in narrative filmmaking, he is nonetheless profoundly talented as both a storyteller and visual stylist. The narrative is only half of what makes this film so incredible, with the other half being attributed to the director’s approach, in which he takes some fascinating risks, all of which yield astonishing results. The primary aspect that separates this film from many others with similar subject matter is how it is filmed entirely from a first-person perspective, with the film oscillating between the two protagonists, shot as if we were looking at the world through their eyes. This kind of experimental approach has been attempted before, but never in such a way, and certainly not with as much impact as we have here, being more than just an attempt to be original but instead carrying an abundance of meaning in its own right. Very often we find that films about race and culture place the viewer in a position of being voyeurs, passively observing the events surrounding these characters. In the case of Nickel Boys, we are situated in the mind of the protagonists, seeing the world through their eyes and making it a far more personal, intimate experience – and one that oscillates between hope and despair, as we are given unfettered access to their innermost thoughts. It’s a very unique approach and one that does require the audience to take a few moments to acclimate, but once we understand why this specific method was chosen, and witness just how incredibly poignant it is in practice, the sooner we understand the nuances behind it. Beyond this technique, Ross implements other elements that elevate this film – the score composed by Alex Somers and Scott Alario is delicate but powerful, supporting some of the most emotional moments in the story, and the simple but evocative design of the locations creates a vivid, accurate portrayal of this era and the people who resided within it, which gives an additional layer of authenticity to the story, rather than just being an elaborate period drama that focuses more on the spectacle. It’s a decidedly more unorthodox approach composed of many moving parts, and we might wonder why Ross chose to complicate the filmmaking process when the material itself was strong enough to be told through much simpler means. Yet, once we understand how his decisions enrich this story and make it even more profound, the sooner we find ourselves thoroughly enraptured by this film and its lingering complexities.

While most of the attention this film received is based on its unique directorial approach, we can’t neglect the more traditional elements that anchor it and make some of Ross’ more complex artistic decisions possible. Nickel Boys is peculiar in that we have two protagonists who are present for almost the entire film, but yet the actors themselves are only on screen for roughly half that time, slightly less in the case of Elwood, whose perspective is the primary one we follow throughout the film. Yet, they always seem to be entirely present, not only since we hear their voices throughout, but the way the camera is positioned gives the illusion that we are quite literally looking through their eyes, and the actors around them are entirely convincing when engaging in the conversations, never making it seem as if they are merely speaking directly to the camera. Nonetheless, the performances by newcomers Ethan Herisse and Brandon Wilson are extraordinary – they are relatively unknown young actors, but the strength of their work, both when they are visible on screen and not, is proof of their undeniable talents. There is a lot of subtletly required in these performances, and they both deliver spellbinding, earnest work that feels like the revelation of two extraordinary performers who can convincingly take on these challenging roles, doing so with extraordinary precision. Many actors weave in and out of the narrative in supporting roles, including Daveed Diggs as the older version of the protagonist, as well as Fred Hechinger (who has already amassed quite an impressive body of work in a short period), and Jimmie Fails, whose performance in The Last Black Man in San Francisco should have been the start of a thriving acting career, but where he has primarily remained quite scarce, making his return in this film even more impactful. However, perhaps the best performance in the film comes on behalf of Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor, whose portrayal of Elwood’s grandmother evokes several emotions, ranging from warmth and comfort to deep grief and sadness. A good actor is cast in a role that they can easily play, but a great actor is entrusted with a nearly impossible part and nonetheless delivers something truly spectacular throughout. This is the case with Ellis-Taylor, who once again proves that she is amongst our greatest working actors, covertly revealing that Nickel Boys is as much a coming-of-age story of race as it is a vibrant love letter to the people who care for us, something that only becomes clear as the film progresses.

The Nickel Boys is one of the landmark novels on the subject of race and culture of the past two decades, and while an adaptation was going to be inevitable, it is still incredible to see it done with such striking precision and artistic integrity. Ross is most certainly going to be a filmmaker who defines this generation of cinema, and this is likely going to be seen as one of his signature works, both in terms of how he handles Whitehead’s challenging ideas and makes them his own through pure ingenuity, unsettling our understanding of how cinema functions and creating some truly extraordinary from seemingly the most simple but captivating of cues. The prose leaps off the page and erupts on screen with an intensity that we have not seen for many years, where the sheer ambition behind this project fueled some of the most original, innovative directorial decisions of the contemporary era. A didactic, overly verbose coming-of-age drama that followed conventions was not enough for the director, who instead chooses to push the boundaries of the medium in fascinating ways, creating something deeply engaging and profoundly challenging, and in the process crafting a film that revolutionizes the way films are made, adopting a seemingly simple concept and allowing it to flourish into a poignant exploration of the past, as seen quite literally through the eyes of ordinary people whose stories tend to be overlooked. Whitehead wrote a brilliant novel, and Ross knew the responsibility of paying tribute to his work, which required a more bespoke approach. The results are magnificent – Nickel Boys is somehow both sprawling and intimate, harrowing and inspiring, beautiful and difficult, being a bundle of contradictions that ultimately creates an unforgettable, immersive experience that is unquestionably going to become one of the defining works of the present era, both for its technical skill and narrative complexity, which weave together to create a work that transcends the boundaries of the traditional cinematic medium and proves to be far more astonishing than we could ever comprehend.