Jeff Nichols — Ranked

Jeff Nichols respects his audience. At his best, he’s a writer/director who understands the value of restraint, in terms of exposition & character. Characters rarely explain what’s going on, nor do they offer the vapid platitudes we’re all too familiar with. Not only is this truer to life, but it results in a more compelling cinematic experience, one that compels the audience to lean in and engage. Nichols makes you pay attention to everything in between the lines — the length in between pauses, the way a character bats their eyes, and so much more.

Though Nichols dabbles in various genres — from science to historical fiction — nearly all of his films reflect how much he trusts his audience. He knows that we don’t need much to understand, and he acts accordingly.

6. The Bikeriders

It is unfortunate then that Nichols’ most recent film lacks so many of those aforementioned qualities. It lacks restraint (in exposition & character), pummeling us with information (via an unnecessary framing device) that robs the viewer of any interest in leaning in. It’s not without its merits — there are still a few golden silences that pull you in, Adam Stone’s cinematography is lush & colorful, and Tom Hardy’s performance is multi-layered and oddly natural. Yet, it can’t help but feel like it was directed by someone else.

5. Loving

If I had to choose one film that best explains who Jeff Nichols is, I would choose Loving in a heartbeat. In the hands of most filmmakers, this would be your standard Civil Rights-era drama that often feels more like a Wikipedia entry than living, breathing life. Instead, Nichols holds back — in a way, it feels like a slice-of-life film. We witness Richard and Mildred Loving (Joel Edgerton & Ruth Negga giving the performances of their careers) often in the minor key — quiet & contemplative. We often have to lean in to gauge how they feel. As a result, we get a better sense of their actual humanity than a more clichéd version of this film. Even if some scenes towards the end feel more familiar (despite the inspired casting of Nick Kroll as a lawyer), Loving is so resonant because it’s so modest. Its modesty is its strength.

4. Midnight Special

When I first watched this film in 2016, I was initially colder to it. Though I was impressed by its restraint and its fearlessness in terms of its characters’ dark choices, I felt like the restraint kept me at an emotional distance from the characters. Yet, re-watching this now, I see so much of what I love about Nichols in this film. He takes an exposition and plot-heavy genre (science fiction) and strips it to the bone, leaving us only what we need to know. We spend so much time wondering why certain characters are there, yet it’s not annoying — we’re curious. We’re given little breadcrumbs to keep us engaged. Sometimes they’re bigger (and more satisfying), but Nichols created a truly adult blockbuster, one that feels so lived in (note the production design of the Ranch, and how Sam Shephard’s cult leader has a bottle of Tums in his office). Midnight Special doesn’t need to pander. It trusts its audience to study Michael Shannon’s often indiscernible face, wondering what he’s thinking. That’s just as thrilling as the spectacles we witness in this film.

3. Shotgun Stories

Jeff Nichols’ debut feature has the traditional trappings of a first-time filmmaker (ex. scenes beginning and ending way too late), yet it also showcases a filmmaker who — right out the gate — had such a stronger understanding of not just what cinema could do, but what he could do with it. Though it is less subtle than some of his other works, Shotgun Stories is built on the types of long silences that will come to define Nichols — the silences that make us lean in, trying to gauge what the characters are going to do, even with the revenge genre trappings in mind. There is also such a visceral sense of dread throughout (sustained for the first half with barely any violence). For a first-time filmmaker, that is a profound accomplishment and skill that he will utilize in his other films, such as Midnight Special and notably Take Shelter. Most importantly, it is the beginning of Nichols’ fruitful collaboration with Michael Shannon, who never sacrifices his integrity for a single moment.

2. Mud

Jeff Nichols’ take on Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Mud was the first Nichols film I saw — the first film that introduced me to his patience, his curiosity in all people, and the slow way he unfolds his stories. To my surprise (and delight), Mud reveals itself to not so much be a story about the titular character (Matthew McConaughey) — a wanted fugitive — but Ellis, the young boy (an incredible Tye Sheridan) who befriends him. If anything, Mud is the catalyst for this boy’s coming-of-age story. It’s so rewarding to watch this film unfold, to see how much it dives into its rich Southern setting, and to bear witness to how vivid these characters are. Most importantly, Mud lets us slowly discover the story in real time, often at the pace of Ellis. Though this film is not always from the point of view of a child, it often feels that way — Mud reflects such a genuine sense of wonder & discovery that could only come from a filmmaker who knows when to hold back… and deliver.

1. Take Shelter

It would be easy to write Michael Shannon’s protagonist Curtis LaForche off as a “paranoid schizophrenic”. Some people in Take Shelter do. But what makes this film truly terrifying is how much we empathize with him. We wonder, just as much as he does, if what he’s seeing is real. We feel for him as he tries to rationalize what’s going on, tries to see if he inherited his mother’s mental illness. He cares for his family and wants to do best by them. Yet it’s not merely a film that asks us to pity him — it’s a film that really shows the consequences of his actions, often in ways he couldn’t expect. Take Shelter is the perfect film for Jeff Nichols’ restraint — the entire film is about a protagonist struggling to make thoughtful decisions due to limited information. Similarly, Curtis LaForche is the perfect role for Michael Shannon — a character who we can’t quite read, who makes us lean in, wondering how he’s processing the information he’s receiving. It’s riveting, heartbreaking, and genuinely scary, building to an absolutely stunning conclusion that seems to provide answers and raise questions at the same time. It’s the perfect ending to a Jeff Nichols film.