10/4/2024
It’s a story that needs to be told. But maybe not quite like this. Not in a bombastic flurry of images that overshadow a narrative that is as touching as it is important.
Dozier School, a reform school in Marianna, Florida, on the Panhandle was real. It was founded January 1st, 1900, and closed its doors June 30th, 2011. From the turn of the century, through decades of grotesque Jim Crow laws, it was supposed to provide proper schooling and a controlled environment for the boys in its charge. Yet, youth were segregated by color. Kids and adolescents were emotionally and physical abused. Subject to beatings, rape and mysterious disappearances.
Nickel Boys
In Colson Whitehead’s Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, The Nickel Boys, his fictional version of that institution is called The Nickel Academy. His central character is Elwood Curtis, a former mistakenly accused juvenile offender, and his recollections from 2010 as an adult reflect on his life. Fond memories in the 1960s, in Tallahassee, FL where he thrived as a student. Then traumatic ones in Eleanor, FL and the degradation at the academy. His jailing at the reformatory was the result of the naïve kid taking a ride from a stranger on his first day of college. Didn’t know the vehicle was stolen. Cops arrested the adult driver, Elmwood too and he was sent to reform school. What he witnessed and experienced in the correctional institution haunted him. If it wasn’t for his friend Turner, he might be dead. So, you think.
Writer/director RaMell Ross (Oscar-nominated documentary Hale County This Morning, This Evening) and co-screenwriter Joslyn Barnes put their own cinematic spin on the novel. It doesn’t matter how the book was written, the back-and-forth time periods, extensive descriptions etc. The filmmakers have an obligation to relay the story in a discernible way. In a style that allows audiences to follow the plotline, distinguish characters, where they’re going and where they end. Deciding what works in a book and how that is different from what works on screen is part of the job and a big responsibility. But for sure, being faithful to the book is not the assignment. Deciphering the beats, intentions, imagery and gist is nice, but only if what’s on view ultimately makes sense and viewers can follow along without being frustrated and confused.
Elwood (Ethan Herisse, When They See Us) is being raised by his single mom Hattie (Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor, King Richard). He is studious, inquisitive and aware of the civil, social and racial issues that make his life as a young Black man more complicated than his white counterparts. That day fate puts him in the wrong place at the wrong time, a curse stalks him. For the rest of his life. There’s sheer hell at the Nickel Academy. Showing kindness makes him look weak. Saving others brings bad luck. Speaking out about conditions marks him. No matter how much Hattie fights for his release, it’s like providence wants him to suffer. His friendship with Turner (Brandon Wilson, The Way Back) gives him solace. The two look out for each other. So, he thinks.
The jigsaw presentation doesn’t make deciphering easy, but with the right attention it might have been a technique that worked. But Ross’s ornate direction, with reams of quick edits and cryptic visions (alligators, spider webs, donkeys) becomes a distraction. Beautiful as the superfluous visuals can be, they’re a detour that becomes a tedious gimmick. A constant and conflicting one. Also, much of the footage is shot from Elwood’s point of view, without him being on screen. This intermittent POV becomes an odd choice. Awkward. It also gives Turner’s face too much screen time. It shouldn’t.
Regardless, the tech crew gives Ross the assistance he needs. Life below the Mason-Dixon line, in the ‘60s, is evident in the clothes (costume designer Brittany Loar, She Said), incidentals (set decorator Monique Champagne, The Curious Case of Bengamin Button), Hattie’s home (production designer Nora Mendis, Passing), evocative colors (art director Elizabeth Herberg, TV’s Treme) and dramatic music (Scott Alario and Alex Somers). The one weak point is the editing (Nicholas Monsour, Us). At 2h 20m the dirge like pace and endless cutaways will test audiences’ patience. Somewhat in a theater. A lot if they’re at home streaming.
What’s on view feels like an MFA thesis. “What would happen if pretty but often irrelevant images over-populated footage?” At least, that’s what this experience feels like. Certainly, filmmakers don’t’ have to adhere to traditional storytelling, but they obscure plotlines with magic tricks at their peril. Deciding not to guide viewers in a focused, coherent way is a gamble. If the payoff is only measured in box office receipts, this adaptation could struggle. If the payoff is evident in critical acclaim, this adaptation could receive mixed results. That said, to Ross’s credit, he doesn’t shoot graphic scenes of the abuse. This isn’t misery porn, and it could have been. In that way, he’s a griot with integrity.
Herisse gives a stoned faced interpretation of Elmwood. As the film progresses, this tactic loses its sheen. Wilson as Turner, on the other hand, uses movement, glances and facial expressions to make his character more alluring. He far overshadows Herisse’s interpretation of Elmwood. Like he’s stealing the limelight. Some directors would have made Elmwood more animated and Turner less so, so the focus stayed on the lead protagonist. Regardless, through all of it, somehow Ellis-Taylor finds the good heart in her character and adds sunshine to every scene. Or the intense concerns of a worried mother. Her joy is contagious. Her positive attitude infectious. Her grief unbearable. Ellis-Taylor is a consummate actress. Brilliant in a movie that is not as brilliant as it could have been.
This film adaptation of a Pulitzer-prize winning book seemed like a great endeavor. Pity the overbearing and tedious artistry shrouds the main narrative. A parable about a fictional reformatory based on a real institution that tortured young men and left secret graves in its backyard. It’s a history rich enough for a great tragic novel. Or a great tragic movie. One that could open the 2024 New York Film Festival.
For more information about the New York Film Festival go to https://www.filmlinc.org/nyff2024/guide/.
Visit Film Critic Dwight Brown at DwightBrownInk.com.