NICKEL BOYS

RaMell Ross’s exquisitely-shot close first person perspective makes for an audacious act of interpretation of Colson Whitehead’s Pulitzer Prize winner. The novel methodically alternates between past and present day to introduce us to Elwood, an ambitious and optimistic student who becomes unjustly incarcerated in a abusive racist reform school in the 1960s through a senseless twist of fate. Here, his family life, close friendship with a classmate, and the expose of the school’s corruption is merely a starting point.

As with Hale County, This Morning, This Evening, Ross uses fragmentation, remixes contemporary archival footage, and floods the screen with beautiful renditions of life amid intolerable cruelty to embrace the tactility of experience over plot. Challenging notions of objectivity, the filmmaking boldly commits to presenting the truth of subjective experience. A stunner.

CONCLAVE

A feverish entry in the canon of persistent liberal fantasies about how, against incredibly long odds, an ancient incalcitrant institution might finally change. Edward Berger churns a satisfying political potboiler in the Vatican as the titular conclave of Cardinals sequester themselves to select the next occupant of the Holy Throne of Saint Peter. No one wants to admit they want the job, everyone has an agenda, and secrets hide in the dark corners of each man’s heart.

Anthony Tucci is the liberal dreamer who refuses to ally with John Lithgow’s centrist insider as they vie for the reform vote to head off a blowhard regressive Venetian firebrand. Revelations and suspicions swirl; a surprise cardinal appears unannounced; and a nun played by Isabella Rossellini says more with pointed looks than most actors do with pages of juicy monologue. Everyone in the stacked cooks, but it’s Ralph Fiennes’s show. We watch as his Dean of the college, cursed with the gift of being a great manager, becomes hollowed out by the weight of crises of faith and protocol amid a hundred opinionated deadlocked priests voting their way to the eventual white smoke.

PIECE BY PIECE

I find the style of animation deeply isolating, but only in a Lego movie would a documentary about going from being the coolest musician alive to writing a hit song for the Trolls franchise to be considered an unqualified happy ending. Morgan Neville profiles multi-hyphenate Pharrell Williams in a candy-colored explosion of toy bricks, seemingly only on the flip suggestion of his subject, making the question of who’s really at the helm of this celebrity profile all the muddier.

The choice makes some sense as a kinetic representation of synesthesia, racing from Pharrell’s upbringing in the Virginia Beach housing projects, discovering music, forming the Neptunes, and hustling innovative beats to incredible cross-genre success. Admittedly a lot of it is visually dazzling and peppered with humor, and it all follows Lego’s massive handbook of what can be practically be done with bricks (dancing’s a challenge, as are choking hazards). There’s nothing particularly wrong with telling his story with glowing blocks as stand-ins in for the inventive sounds with Legos a facile metaphor for remixing old into something fresh. Still, once the cleverness of seeing celebs like Gwen Stefani, Pusha T, and Snoop Dogg wears off. Amid the flatness of the animation and the gentleness of the narrative, I found myself desperate to see actual human faces experiencing anything resembling real emotions.