Nickel Boys movie review: Style is the substance in RaMell Ross’s ‘Best Picture’ Oscar nominee

Ross, best known for his documentary Hale County This Morning, This Evening, which earned him an Academy Award nomination, brings a filmmaker’s curiosity to this adaptation. He isn’t interested in simply recounting events but in making the audience feel them in a way that is raw, immersive, and sometimes unsettling. The result is a film that operates like an art installation—every frame a painting, every moment carefully constructed to communicate more than just plot.

Set in the racially charged America of the 60s, Nickel Boys follows Elwood Curtis (Ethan Herisse), an idealistic African American teenager inspired by the teachings of Dr Martin Luther King Jr. Elwood is an optimist, a book lover, a dreamer who believes in education and social upliftment. His nana says it best: “He spends more time reading than anything else.” This single line gives us everything we need to know about Elwood—his quiet ambition, his belief in education, and his hope in the words of MLK that justice will come. But the world Elwood believes in does not believe in him. One mistake—being in the wrong place at the wrong time—lands him at Nickel Academy.

There, he meets Turner (Brandon Wilson), a more pragmatic and street-smart boy who understands the unspoken rules of survival within the school’s walls. While Elwood clings to hope and morality, Turner urges caution, knowing all too well that righteousness has no place in a world governed by power and cruelty. Their friendship becomes the emotional core of the film, a fragile bond formed in the most harrowing of circumstances.

Ethan Herisse as Elwood and Brandon Wilson as Turner in a still from ‘Nickel Boys’

This is not a traditionally structured film. In adapting Whitehead’s novel, Ross does not rely on a straightforward narrative. Instead, he crafts a sensory experience using visual storytelling, sound design, and editing to immerse the audience in the boys’ reality. The camera often operates in a POV style—not just from a character’s literal perspective but in a way that makes the audience feel present in the space, experiencing what it means to be Black in a white supremacist institution. The film does not just depict injustice; it forces you to sit in it, to feel its weight.

This directorial choice will be polarising. Some viewers may find the approach distancing, even frustrating, as the film demands patience. At 140 minutes, it is a slow burn, and while the deliberate pacing serves the film’s meditative nature, there are moments that feel stretched.

Ross’s background in photography is evident in how Nickel Boys is shot. Each frame feels meticulously composed, like a painting in a gallery—you take in some instantly, while others take time to process. The cinematography does not simply capture events; it communicates emotions, history, and perspective with a clarity that feels almost tactile.

A shot from RaMell Ross’s movie ‘Nickel Boys’

Equally striking is the film’s use of sound, or rather, its restraint. The score, composed by Alex Somers and Scott Alario, is minimal, often retreating into silence, allowing the sounds of the environment—the rustling of trees, the distant cries of boys, the dull thud of punishment—to fill the space. This choice makes the film feel even more immersive, as if the audience is being forced to sit in the same suffocating quiet as the boys at the Academy.

Herisse, best known for Netflix’s When They See Us––another Black Lives’ story––delivers a heart-breaking performance as Elwood, embodying both the innocence of a boy who believes in justice and the slow erosion of that belief. His portrayal is not showy; he does not deliver grand speeches or have overt expressions of agony. Instead, his pain is in his posture, his silences, the way his eyes shift when he realises the world does not work the way he thought it did. There is a moment—just a flicker in his eyes—where you see his realisation that justice, as he imagined it, does not exist for him. That moment says more than any monologue ever could.

Brandon Wilson, as Turner, is just as compelling, offering a performance that feels lived-in, raw, and utterly authentic. His chemistry with Herisse is undeniable, and their relationship is the beating heart of the film—filled with unspoken understanding, moments of defiance, and the shared knowledge that their fates are hanging by a thread.

The supporting cast, particularly Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor as Elwood’s nana—a woman carrying the weight of history and the guilt of not giving her grandson the justice he deserves—and Hamish Linklater as the cruel superintendent, add further layers to the film’s emotional depth. Ellis-Taylor, with minimal screen time, leaves a lasting impact, while Linklater delivers an appallingly restrained performance, embodying the kind of bureaucratic evil that is all the more terrifying because of its banality.

For all its brilliance, Nickel Boys is not an easy sit. It does not offer the kind of catharsis that many viewers might expect from a historical drama about injustice. There is no rousing speech, no satisfying revenge.

Some may even find the film’s approach too abstract, and its refusal to follow a conventional narrative frustrating. There are moments where the film demands patience, where it lingers longer than expected, refusing to move at the pace of traditional cinema. But even for those who find the film difficult, its impact is undeniable. Few films manage to balance style and substance successfully, but here, style is the substance. The cinematography, sound, and editing are not just technical choices; they are the film’s way of communicating what words alone cannot.

For those willing to meet it on its terms, Nickel Boys is an unforgettable and necessary piece of cinema.

Nickel Boys
Nickel Boys Director – RaMell Ross
Nickel Boys Cast – Ethan Herisse, Brandon Wilson, Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor, Hamish Linklater, Gralen Bryant Banks, Fred Hechinger
Nickel Boys Rating – 4/5