Courtesy of MGM Studios

The Carsey-Wolf Center closed out its fall schedule on Dec. 7 with a screening of RaMell Ross’ “Nickel Boys.” Based on Colson Whitehead’s novel of the same name, the film is a historical drama inspired by the Dozier School for Boys, a now-closed reform school. This event was part of Black Hollywood, a Carsey-Wolf Center series curated by Mireille Miller-Young, which explores the contributions and stories of Black creators in the entertainment industry. The program addresses issues such as diversity in labor, race and gender representation while fostering dialogue among media professionals, academics and the public. Following the screening was a Q&A with Ross, moderated by Miller-Young.

The film opens with meditative and poetic shots, a technique Ross calls finding the “epic banal.” Small moments, such as the shifting shadows on a grassy lawn or the sparkle of tinsel on a Christmas tree, are shot with a deliberate precision, one that becomes impossible to ignore.

“I look for a moment that is very commonplace in everyone’s life — like the way that the light is hitting in your shoe,” Ross said in the Q&A. “But when you film it at a certain angle and you wait long enough, quite often something will happen. It elevates it to being cosmic, being a metaphor, and then turns it into being symbolic, but it’s also just light on a shoe.”

Throughout the film, Ross employs a distinct blend of first-person perspective and quietly evocative imagery, one that asks to be observed and interpreted rather than simply watched. 

The story unfolds through the eyes of Elwood Curtis, a 17-year-old Black teenager from Tallahassee, Florida. A diligent student, Elwood is encouraged by his teacher to enroll in an advanced class at a local college. However, his promising path is abruptly derailed when he unknowingly hitches a ride in a stolen car. Elwood’s journey takes a harrowing turn when he is sent to Nickel Academy, a reform school cloaked in systemic abuse.

At the school, Elwood meets Jack Turner, a fellow student who hints at the dire state of the place through a passing remark about its food. The audience is taken through the daily domesticity of life at the academy — chores, outdoor activities and social dynamics — while simultaneously exposing the systemic violence and discrimination through subtle visual cues. The horrors of Nickel Academy are never explicitly shown, yet the terrifying aspect is in the implication: the results of the violence and the lasting effects it has on the kids who attend. 

During the Q&A, Ross delved deeper into his directorial approach, first describing his intent to create what he calls an “experiential monument.”

“There’s something about being able to make a monument for someone that is physiological, that is sensory, that you take into your body and is capable of living semantically, psychically,” Ross explained. “It’s more difficult to take away, and it also brings cellular life into the people who endured the things that none of us here had to endure. And so I think of this as an experiential monument.”

Ross’ vision for this monument was ambitious and required extensive collaboration to bring it to life. 

“You need people who genuinely challenge you but are genuinely on board with your idea so that you always have something to reflect back on what you’re doing, so you can actually make the best decision. Often, as makers, as writers, [we] have an idea and we get in our own [echo] chamber, but if you have someone to push back against, you can develop it in conversation.”

Cinematographer Jomo Fray and production designer Nora Mendis were especially crucial during production. 

“Jomo Fray is a super talented dude. He knows camera systems, and he [knows] how to produce the environment to get the feeling that we wanted,” Ross said.

With Ross’ background as a documentarian and a photographer, his expertise lies in observation.

“I frame the real world, and when I’m working with my characters and protagonists, I take the mountains of the world. Everything’s preexisting, and so you work with what’s there and you get that feeling. But to produce that from scratch — [with] Nora Mendis’ set design and Jomo’s lighting — that’s difficult, if not impossible.”

However, even with a strong team, the filmmaking process was not without its challenges. 

“One of the biggest challenges was time,” Ross remarked. “They’re not gonna give me ‘Christopher Nolan’ time. We have three hours and we have to get this shot that’s supposed to feel sincere, authentic, poetic, lyrical, symbolic, metaphorical. The resources you have, the rules that are imposed on you and the rules you produce — produce creative solutions in that. You use your strength to exploit.” 

Ross’ methodical approach to filmmaking — born from necessity — shaped much of the film’s aesthetic and emphasized the importance of attention in storytelling.

 “I’ll look longer than anyone’s ever looked. That’s what I’ll do. No one’s ever looked long enough at the Black community,” Ross stated. “I realize that I’m interested in looking long enough in the same way you look at words until they sort of break down and then rebuild themselves [until] social construction becomes dissolved.” 

Circling back to the “epic banal,” Ross views it as more than just a visual device.

“To me, [the epic banal is] focusing on the elements of life [as] a counternarrative. Because we tell ourselves the same narratives, and then that becomes the only thing that we know, the only thing we have, the only thing we can reference. Just because this event happens to us, however tragic, does not have to define us. It’s our choice to let it, but quite often from the outside, people force people into being defined by the things that are the markers of their narrative.”

This perspective is central to Ross’ overarching philosophy on his own work.

“My art practice has been about figuring out [photographic] strategies, to come up with things like strategic ambiguity, where you make a photo that has plural narratives built into it. The reader of the image is forced to contend with their interpretation, and they know that …  interpretation because the image is so ambiguous. Their imagination is suspended.”

In “Nickel Boys,” tragedy and resilience coexist. The mundane becomes extraordinary. Ross’ work is a profound reminder that even in the darkest of narratives, there is room for beauty, reflection and hope.

“Nickel Boys” is currently nominated for Best Picture and Best Adapted Screenplay at the upcoming Academy Awards on March 2.