December 21, 2024

By Marriska Fernandes

“I like to say the universe conspires against films being made so the act itself [of making this]…is a great accomplishment.” – RaMell Ross

There’s no doubt that one of the best films of the year comes from filmmaker RaMell Ross, who makes his dramatic directorial debut with Nickel Boys – which won the Toronto Film Critics Association’s Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Adapted Screenplay honours at the TFCA Awards on December 15.

Ross employs the same tool of shooting in first person that was seen in his Oscar-nominated documentary, Hale County This Morning, This Evening. This documentary-style approach and perspective that colours the way he sees and makes movies – even the way the camera pans on the characters and locations. The result is an evocative, transcendent entry that’s unconventional and well-crafted in exposing some of society’s fundamental questions.

Ross’ work is centered on the Black experience and how Black bodies have historically been depicted in media. It was a conscious decision to never depict violence, as the film follows the brutal treatment of young boys at the Florida reform school.

“There’s something about the relationship between the camera and people in which it fundamentally intensifies objectification,” Ross said in an interview. “I’m always unsure of the violence that’s on screen…we decided to not show violence because of the way it’s almost integrated in Black skin. You look at Black people and it’s a narrative that’s held.”

Based on Colson Whitehead’s Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, Nickel Boys the film stars Ethan Herisse, Brandon Wilson and Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor. Each of them carries the film on their shoulders and leverages their talent to service the story.

“I didn’t want this to be a film. I wanted it to be a sculpture. I wanted it to be a monument,” said Ross. “I wanted to employ film to tie the senses of cinema directly to the Dozier School boys and ideas around image production.”

Read below our interview with Ross on how he brought the film to life.

You’ve said that all of your work — your photography and writing, it’s all centered on the Black experience, the aesthetic of what all of that means. What did you want to explore with the Nickel Boys story?

I was interested, and am interested in, the act of looking and what happens when you’re aware of the cultural conditioning, the way in which we are analyzing the visual field based on our experiences, and  therefore, considering the way that the camera has produced versions of oneself. Colson’s narrative is a wonderful space to employ some of these techniques.

The POV storytelling tool is really well employed and well-crafted to tell the story of these boys and their experiences. When did you decide to go that route and what power does it hold in a story like this?

The point of view, which we called “sentient perspective” on set, was the first idea that came to mind. It became not only the organizing mechanism of the film, but also the central language. Like, what does the world look like from the characters as they experience it? I think, historically, it’s just interesting to think not about the way that people were in history, but what they experienced when history was around them. That almost sounds semantic, but I think giving subjectivity to people from the past is a way to at least attempt to bring to life their worldviews and not see them as so far and so distantly related to their environments and times. That’s interesting.

I didn’t know this when I was watching it at the time, but you actually had the cameras hooked on to the actors when it’s their POV. When did you decide to go that route and what sort of power does it hold in a story like this?

There were a couple techniques that we used. There were three camera operators – there was Jomo Fray, who’s the director of photography on the film, Sam Ellison, and myself. One way was just having the camera on your shoulder and filming as if you’re one of the characters. Another was having a camera system that Jomo customized with a couple of his crew members that is in front of the character, and then we have a remote camera that we’re using that’s moving the camera in front of them. Another one is having a custom rig that they’re wearing, of course, that allows it to move simultaneously with their bodies, and then the other one is having them be really, really, really close to the camera while the camera operator is moving it around. So, by any means necessary.

You could definitely see there were different styles being optimized. Clearly, you were excited to explore these different mediums – was there one scene or one shot that you really wanted from the get-go, before you started filming?

I mean, every image, I’d say. If we were to say, there’s 100 images, 95 of them were scripted. It was a joy to be able to imagine and then to choreograph them in one’s head, and then work with Jomo to figure out the way that we were going to shoot them in the actual scenes. I like to say that every image is a standalone [feature] of the film, and so it’s impossible to choose.

The archival footage is such a strong visual storytelling tool. You mentioned People of Colour existing as visual statistics. Can you elaborate on how instrumental the images are in the film and how you selected them?

Yeah, it was a pretty arduous and time extensive process. We had Allison Brandon as our archival producer, and she was looking for images as we started the writing process. And so about four and a half years, she would scour the internet and the personal archives she knows of to find images. Sometimes you saw an image and you knew it was strange enough and  it had some element of never being seen, but also being like a metaphor that we wanted to get in. But quite often we just have a batch of them and try to see which ones kind of worked best with a moment in time in the film.

As a director new to fictional narrative filmmaking, what has been the most instrumental learning tool for you that helped birth this film? 

I think what I found most useful is having a really clear vision for the film because it allows you to be really flexible. I also am happy that I have an art practice that’s outside of film because I don’t think of the filmmaking process in a traditional way. I’ve come to hear it’s more about letting form emerge from the materials and then going back to the Dozier document from the University of South Florida, that was an exploration of the excavation of the boys.  Then going to Colson’s book, you just are reaching for any mode of connection materially..

Most directors have a throughline with their work. Is there a throughline with what you did not want this film to be?

I didn’t want this to be a film. I wanted it to be a sculpture. I wanted it to be a monument. I wanted to employ film to tie the senses of cinema directly to the Dozier School boys and ideas around image production.

I love what you said previously about how Black bodies are depicted in the media historically and why you wanted to avoid explicit depictions of violence against Black bodies. Can you talk about the significance of that and why you hope to change this narrative in film?

There’s something about the relationship between the camera and people in which it fundamentally intensifies objectification. I’m always unsure of the violence that’s on screen, specifically, if it’s a drama and it’s supposed to be getting at something real, like, “Who exactly is it for?” Is it for the audience to see? Can you be overexposed to it? Can it be too much? Can it be too little? What happens when you don’t see a plethora of images and experiences for a certain population, but you see the violence that cultures and other cultures have levied on them? What are those consequences? It is a question I ask myself. And so in this film, Joslyn Barnes, who’s the co-writer, and I decided with the other producers to not show violence because of the way it’s almost integrated in Black skin. You look at Black people and it’s a narrative that’s held.

Is there something you’re most proud of with what you were able to achieve with this film?

I like to say the universe conspires against films being made, so I think the act itself, specifically as having a film of this scale being centered on the point of view of young, lost Black boys, for lack of a better identifier for them, is a great accomplishment.

Nickel Boys opens in Canadian theatres January 2025.