As I listened to your captivating narrative, my mind was filled with awe and admiration for the unique experiences you’ve crafted for yourself and your art. Your “Order of Time Walks” sounds like an extraordinary fusion of science, philosophy, and the sensory richness of our world – a testament to your creativity and intellectual curiosity.
Fans of RaMell Ross‘s Oscar-nominated 2018 documentary “Hale County This Morning, This Evening” might have been slightly apprehensive about his move into literary adaptation for his next project. However, Ross’s new film, “Nickel Boys“, based on Colson Whitehead’s Pulitzer Prize-winning 2019 novel, makes its debut at the New York Film Festival tonight, following a premiere at the Telluride Film Festival last month. One might wonder how Ross’s distinctive filmmaking style, which centers around montages of evocatively filmed, everyday details, would adapt to the demanding world of big-budget studio films. It was assumed that he would need to tone down his signature approach to accommodate producers, actors, historical setting, and narrative structure. However, surprisingly, Ross did not. Instead, “Nickel Boys” appears to be an even more daring work than “Hale County“, incorporating point-of-view cameras and blending them with the subtle poeticism of his earlier film. This is a remarkable accomplishment – one that is likely to spark discussions for many years to come.
After completing Hale County This Morning, This Evening, a project that consumed several years of your life, one might imagine the transition into a new endeavor as challenging. Having poured so much energy and time into a single project, how does one embark on a fresh journey?
Regarding the personal aspect, it’s true that art-wise, things remained consistent as I was already engaged in photography and writing. However, around four and a half years ago, I received an unexpected contact request from producers Dede Gardner and Jeremy Kleiner, who had been introduced to me by [Hale County producer] Joslyn Barnes. As someone who works at my own leisurely pace and dislikes responding to emails, I was initially uninterested in creating a fiction film. I was content with my teaching career and felt quite fulfilled. However, when I learned that Dede had produced The Tree of Life, I thought, “If I’m going to meet anyone, it will be her.” So, despite my initial reservations, I agreed to the collaboration, expressing my concerns about maintaining creative control. Fortunately, Dede and Jeremy were open to my ideas, which eased my apprehensions.
When viewing the movie, it seems like such a seamless extension and continuation of your methodical approach in Hale County. When you chose to create the book, did you already have a plan in mind about how you’d transform it? To put it simply, upon reading the book, I felt a strong connection to POV (point of view), poetry, and archival materials. The alignment was so immediate because my aesthetic values were reflected in that time period, which is rich with archival images that are not typically from our perspective. These images often lack the poetic quality and interstitiality (lyricism). By repopulating this era to create a film that’s only poetic within a deep narrative, it struck me as more than just a bold move, but an actual intervention in visual aesthetics. In other words, I saw it as an opportunity to intervene and redefine the visual aesthetic landscape of today’s everyday life.
As a cinephile, I must admit, the film initially reminded me of meeting an old friend who seems familiar at first. However, just like that old friend suddenly bursting into opera and displaying wild behaviors, this movie doesn’t conform to traditional storytelling expectations. Instead, it takes us on a journey that forces us to reconsider how we perceive images and narratives, offering a fresh perspective on an acquaintance we thought we knew so well.
How would I describe our interactions with Colson Whitehead? They didn’t exactly exist in a traditional sense. It was an amusing turn of events as he, Dede, and Jeremy “selected” me, which left me wondering about the meaning behind that choice. As we finalized the script and moved into production, I penned him an email expressing my aspiration to become a writer and expressing gratitude for his role in it all. His response was simply, “Thanks for your note. Good luck.” And that concluded our correspondence! At first, I felt a bit… not hurt, but a tad disappointed. But then I understood, “Ah, this is the best possible scenario.” He’s essentially granting me the freedom to create as I wish without any constraints. So while I am still connected to him in some way, it’s more of an unspoken understanding rather than a binding obligation.
As a fellow film enthusiast, I believe I’ve caught wind that he has indeed watched the movie. He seems to be engrossed in writing a book at the moment, which I must say, only adds to my anticipation for his insights on the silver screen. After all, a busy mind is a productive one!
In summary, many people have praised “Nickel Boys” as an extraordinary film. However, some have suggested it might have been more emotionally impactful if it followed a more traditional narrative structure. This viewpoint seems to miss the intended purpose: Conventional or objective portrayals of suffering can evoke empathy, but they also carry a hint of voyeurism. When we identify with a character’s perspective, our emotional response changes dramatically.
Previously, attempts by filmmakers to create an entire movie using a first-person perspective typically ended up being unsuccessful. The exception seems to be the film Gaspar Noé’s Enter the Void, which is quite distinct from The Nickel Boys.
As a movie connoisseur, I must admit that I’ve often found myself grappling with an issue common among films: the abrupt shifts in perspective, reminiscent of a camera on a wild chase. This can sometimes feel forced and uncomfortable, detracting from the overall viewing experience. However, when I encountered your unique blend of perspective and impressionistic, fragmented style, echoing Hale County, it struck me – this is how perspective should be employed. It mirrors our own real-world experiences more accurately.
My proof of concept for Nickel Boys was Hale County. I used three scenes, and I said, “It’s going to be exactly like this, which is a long lens and shallow focus.” Because you use the language of documentary and the language of cinema, because people think that shaky, moving camera is a person; that’s sort of been its code. So, to have a full-frame, 24mm frame, and you can see everything, we’re trying to replicate the purview of human vision. But like you said, human vision is attention-oriented. It’s not scaled. You can be looking at the entire coast of a place and one little fly can be in your face, and you don’t see anything else. If you can do that with the camera, then you can control someone’s attention in the frame, and not just give them what it is to see from the eyes.
When I view the movie “Hale County,” it seems to mirror my thought process more than not. It’s not structured conventionally; instead, it jumps through time, textures, images, perspectives, focal lengths, sounds, but somehow remains coherent. I believe this is how our brains naturally function – providing us with a broad spectrum of connections. However, due to our practical orientation, we tend to focus on one thought at a time, interpreting things in a specific manner. We seldom allow our unconscious thoughts to seep into our consciousness within the frame of the world and ourselves. Images are intentionally simplified for clarity, but they also harbor complex, unacknowledged aspects. I believe that photography has the power to reshape our senses and has created a language that is still evolving to keep pace with our brains.
Where did all these images originate? Mainly from life experiences, though some were taken from a book as well. The narrative evolved from my thoughts on everything I’ve observed in my life. I’m Elwood, and I have always had a fondness for images. As such, I can visualize scenes quite vividly. Initially, the story was just a collection of these mental images and camera movements. The challenging part was arranging them coherently. We accumulated hundreds of images, many of which we didn’t end up using in this project. However, they are still beautiful, enigmatic, pure, and powerful, so I’m looking forward to finding a new place for them.
I remember when we discussed Hale County a few years ago, you talked about how your still photography had prepared you for that film, in the way that you’d establish the frame and then have the patience to wait for something to happen — for a revelation to happen. When you’re working with something scripted, does that process of discovery change?
It does completely. Especially when you have 33 days. And then you lose 5 days because of COVID. A person gets COVID and has to go, and you lose a scene. But we realized really early, Jomo Fray and I, that you have to miss things. You don’t want to hit every mark. If you hit the marks, then you’re producing it. But if you’re catching up to the world, then you’re in the world. Because the world is separate from your experience of engaging with it. We called it single-point perspective. The camera is situated in a way that it moves a bit like the human neck. So, just being responsive to the environment, but not trying to synchronize with it.
When discussing the concepts behind visual art, topics such as representation or defying tradition may seem like they’re simply beneficial for personal growth, much like eating spinach or broccoli. However, what you create is not only nutritious but also aesthetically pleasing.
In the unique point-of-view style of this production, your main characters Ethan Herisse and Brandon Wilson may not always appear on screen even when their characters are present. To ensure they fully embody their roles despite this challenge, we found them to be well-prepared actors who had been acting since childhood, yet were not established stars. We made it clear to them that they wouldn’t be on camera all the time, but there would still be a lot of subtle, expressive acting required.
Hey there, Mr. Kubrick! Recognize that classic video we’re talking about? I must say, it’s fantastic! I even have it saved on my computer. It was Nick Monsour who showed me the riotously funny tape.
In any movie set during a historical era featuring Black characters, actors portray individuals from that time. They adopt accents, imitate behaviors based on their understanding of the past or director’s vision, and sometimes, they even wear period-specific clothing like straw hats. This is often how Hollywood chooses to represent historical Black masculinity, but it fails to capture the unique individuality and optimism embodied by characters like Elwood, or the cynicism seen in Turner. Instead, we often see well-dressed, chiseled-faced actors who could fit into a superhero film, but lack the authentic representation that is essential for these roles.
When I encountered Brandon, he appeared nonchalantly propped against the windowpane – much like the familiar Brandon we know, reciting Turner’s lines effortlessly. He exuded an air of suppleness and self-assurance that struck me. And in that moment, I found myself thinking, “Wow, this could be Turner. This is Turner.” Then there was Ethan, who embodied a similar essence, but he carried an infectious optimism. It was still the initial phase, yet it felt as if the story of the Nickel Boys had sprung to life visually – as he perfectly captured the Elwood character in my mind, with his zest for living.
In the movie, there’s a shift in point of view between Elwood and Turner at one point. Initially, we perceive the world from Elwood’s perspective, but suddenly, we also get to see it through Turner’s eyes. This decision was made during the writing process with Joslyn. Since giving POV (point of view) to everyone would be redundant (if you give POV, then why not everyone have it?), we thought it could be interesting if we only gave it to Turner, making him the one who can see Elwood. Conversely, only Elwood could see Turner. This switch isn’t just a cinematic technique; it symbolizes an exchange of energy between these characters.
Later on, you’ll notice some vintage-like aspects being introduced. Consequently, the texture shifts once more, and another stylistic element makes an appearance. This was intentionally done – the intense narrative break, combined with that captivating cinematic moment and archival imagery, creates a powerful impact that I believe rings true to reality. You can sense it.
In another fascinating aspect of storytelling, we find ourselves mirroring the process as we ponder on our own way of perceiving narratives. This is remarkably human! A subtle voice echoes within us, and we become observers of ourselves. Notably, I’ve discovered that this duality can be found in audiobooks. Since you’re not solely relying on your eyes, you receive visual, audio, and environmental inputs, resulting in a more intricate experience. I refer to these sessions in my class as “Time Order Walks.” Have you heard of Carlo Rovelli’s “Order of Time”? It’s narrated by Benedict Cumberbatch. So, while you’re out exploring the world and observing movement around you, you listen to Benedict Cumberbatch’s soothing voice, as Carlo Rovelli discusses the essence of time and its lack thereof in a deep yet comprehensible manner. It’s astounding! This experience alters your perception of time and space, as you simultaneously engage with the world and reflect on what he discusses.
I’m curious, could you share some details about your project titled “Return to Origin”? I believe it involved traveling from Rhode Island to Alabama, a journey inspired by Henry Box Brown?
Initially, we considered FedEx for our project after researching for a year with my studio manager. However, we discovered that due to its size, using FedEx would result in our items being stored in warehouses for several days, which was not suitable for us. We then decided on an open-air gooseneck trailer for transport, ensuring proper airflow and secure strapping. To accomplish this, we constructed a box using Outlander railroad ties. Unfortunately, the person assigned to pick us up never arrived as scheduled, forcing us to abandon that plan. Two months later, we successfully executed the project, living in the box for three days instead of the planned one and a half. The driver had exceeded his working hours, causing an unexpected 15-hour stop at a rest stop in Pennsylvania. I filmed the entire journey with two GoPros, capturing 59 hours of footage that will be turned into a film. Additionally, this project marked the beginning of my long-planned endeavor, The Black Dictionary, where I prefix the word “black” to every term from my childhood dictionary, addressing racial stereotypes and exploring the concept itself.
The idea for the boxcar scene in “Nickel Boys” was similarly inspired by my own experiences. Together with my team, we constructed this scene and subsequently filmed me within it after completion. Upon our cross-country journey, we incorporated these footage into the movie. As I myself had been traveling in a container, I desired to place Turner inside a boxcar as well. The thought crossed my mind: “I’ve never envisioned a time-lapse from a boxcar. How fascinating would that be?
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2024-09-28 03:54