Written by Andreas Babiolakis

It isn’t lucrative to be a documentary filmmaker anymore (not that it was an especially beneficial industry economically in the first place, mind you). Many beloved documentarians have turned to narrative cinema either to make ends meet or to try something new. These experiments don’t always work, as the last couple of notable efforts can verify. Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi and Jimmy Chin — of Free Solo fame — tried their hand at the biographical picture with Nyad: a film that couldn’t have felt more Hollywood and synthetic if it tried. Joshua Oppenheimer tried to create the kind of sociopolitical fear and nausea his documentaries are full of with the satire musical The End, which was sadly quite a misfire instead. The cross over isn’t an easy one, sure, but the thought of an observer of life trying to create their own version of it is an enticing one. I would love to see these kinds of projects succeed more frequently.

Such is the case with RaMell Ross and his film Nickel Boys: here is a magnificent transition from documentary essayist to narrative visionary. Ross is best known for his 2018 documentary Hale County This Morning, This Evening: an artistic, cinéma vérité capture of Black lives in the titular county of Alabama. Their memories and daily events are turned into fantastical images of near-surreality: a tapestry of emotions and concepts that you feel more than you think of. In that same breath, Hale County This Morning, This Evening tells you very little whilst having you think about what you’ve just seen, thus cementing your bond with the film. It is a highly effective form of minimalist documentary filmmaking. This leads us to Nickel Boys: an adaptation of Colson Whitehead’s The Nickel Boys. Whitehead’s transcendent texts on the Black experience in the United States lend themselves to magnificent adaptations given their psychological, meta natures, especially if Barry Jenkins’ masterful The Underground Railroad miniseries is any indication.

The same can be said about Nickel Boys, which is a diaphanous experience. Told almost entirely from first-person perspectives (mainly between protagonists Elwood and Turner, two teens in the Nickel Academy reform school), Nickel Boys is a collection of sights told in non-chronological order, as if we are in a frenzied stratosphere of contemporary historians pooling together all of the hidden pasts of marginalized communities, making sense of erased provenance and scattered details. There’s no more effective way to get us to understand the lives of others than to place us within their shoes. Nickel Boys does just that, and each and every moment feels richer and more powerful as a result; a pivotal scene roughly a third of the way through, which involves school based abuse, left me feeling sick to my stomach far more than most horror films in recent memory, as if this nightmare was not only true, but was about to happen to me.

*Nickel Boys* is truly special, considering how personal it feels to watch.

In the Jim Crow sixties, Elwood (Ethan Herisse) is caught in a series of unfortunate circumstances. While trying to elevate himself as an academic, he hitchhikes en route to a university when he winds up in a stolen car. He is wrongfully pegged as an accomplice, and is sent to Nickel Academy to reform; really, the academy is split between the privileged opportunities for white students and the prison-like abuse and stunting of marginalized students. There, Elwood meets Turner (Brandon Wilson), who helps him get by the bullying and mistreatment that Nickel Academy encourages and fosters. Elwood’s grandmother, Hattie (Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor), is forbidden clear contact with Elwood, but she aims to help get him out of this predicament. A subplot involving modern iterations of Elwood (played by Daveed Diggs) are sprinkled throughout, aiding us to think about why we are cutting to different years; at first, it’s clear that Elwood is looking back at Nickel Academy as revelations about the abuse within reform schools are being dug up, but the true reason is yet to be revealed until the very end of Nickel Boys.

This is a remarkable feature. Before we reach the final act, this is already one of the best films of 2024. Every scene is pieced together with images that compliment or conflict with one another (and, believe me when I say that Jomo Fray’s cinematography is magnificent; it may even be the best cinematography I’ve seen in years). These are clearly sequences made by a documentary expert who has spent hours sitting at an editing table and trying to find meaning within unrelated images, and Nickel Boys will leave you pondering absolutely every shot from as soon as this feature even begins. The first-person perspective is perfectly implemented, especially once we bounce from viewpoint-to-viewpoint (between Elwood and Turner). I thought this idea would be exhausting at first, but I fully felt like a spirit living vicariously through beings of the past. There is one exception, and it’s with Diggs’ Elwood where the camera is positioned right behind the actor’s head. I was curious about this choice until (without spoiling) I pieced together that this is a man living via an out-of-body consciousness, driven by grief; after having lost my mother, I know what it feels like to not be one with myself anymore, as if I am watching my every move from afar and am no longer the man I once was.

*Nickel Boys* is not defined by its concept, but rather it transcends even how it reads on paper.

I could go into the powerful, raw acting of all, the mysterious narrative approach, the moving and shocking musical score, and each and every little element of Nickel Boys. I could bring up the effective sound mixing that helps sell the illusions of the traveling of time (the incredible costumes and sets assist in this way as well). Just take my word when I say that Nickel Boys is masterfully made in every way. What I would rather end on is the final act that takes a sterling film and makes it breathtaking, jaw-dropping, and exemplary. From a massive twist that changes how one reads the entire film, to a montage that left me floored (this is where Ross’ expertise as a documentary filmmaker comes into full effect; this montage truly is one of the best moments of 2024 cinema), Nickel Boys ends as audaciously as it begins (if anything, it encourages a cyclical watch, as if its conclusion leads into its beginning, allowing us to rewatch the film right away and allow the beauty of life to surpass the torment people live through).

Nickel Boys is an experience that is made our own whilst transporting us into the histories of others at the same time. The past becomes our present. We see and understand how bigotry and mistreatment are permanent as long as humans allow it to happen. We are left shocked once we are shown the extent of the abuse found within reform schools (especially the monstrous revelations that are unbelievably twisted). As if we were time travelers trying to shape the past, we are quickly reminded that hate is found through eternity, and that there is always a present that we must fix. The lines between fiction and reality are blurred, both by RaMell Ross’ documentary-like approach to certain sequences (and the focus on the true lives affected by systemic racism) and his affinity for exploring how far his artistic side can go. The end result is a magical realistic observation that could only be achieved via film. Actually, no. It could only be achieved in this film. Nickel Boys is beyond special. It is the merging of life and death. It is as stunning as an artistic achievement as it is powerful as a social statement. It is inventive, daring, and singular. It is cinema as a spectacle, a storytelling device, an innovation, and an art form. Watching Nickel Boys feels like witnessing a filmic miracle; you don’t want to miss it, because there’s simply nothing else like it around.

Andreas Babiolakis has a Masters degree in Film and Photography Preservation and Collections Management from Ryerson University, as well as a Bachelors degree in Cinema Studies from York University. His favourite times of year are the Criterion Collection flash sales and the annual Toronto International Film Festival.