Fern (Frances McDormand) is mourning the loss of a life that has been taken from her. She appeared to enjoy Empire, Nevada, a small town in the United States located around the industry. When the gypsum plant nearby shut down, it was followed by the shutdown of the town of Empire. The whole zip code was obliterated in six months. Fern’s husband died in this terrifying situation, leaving her utterly alone, and she prefers the name “houseless” over “homeless.” Fern starts living in her van after hitting the road in search of employment as a seasonal employee at an Amazon center. She then gets engaged with some modern nomads who occasionally assemble to be a group, but she eventually ends up alone, roaming the American countryside. Created by Chloé Zhao, Fern is an exceptional protagonist in brilliant “Nomadland”, a film that finds poetry in a seemingly ordinary woman’s narrative. It’s a stunning picture that alternates between being surreal in how it depicts the grandeur of this land and focusing its story on a character we don’t often see in films. I find everything about this film adorable.
Filmmakers, like all artists, are likely to pass judgment on their characters. Who is the good guy or the bad guy, an issue that must be resolved if the leading characters want to be happy eventually, otherwise, they will be damned for their poor behavior? “Nomadland“, originated from Jessica Bruder’s book, is a far poorer version of the true story that achieves all of this, melodramatizing Fern’s journey into one of salvation. Fern doesn’t believe she needs to be saved or redeemed, and Zhao doesn’t attempt to have our sympathy, despite the fact that she never underestimates the loneliness and melancholy of her condition. As a result, the picture earns its emotions, which stem more than anything else from genuine, honest empathy.
Of course, with a lesser performer anchoring every scene than Frances McDormand, this is unthinkable. This universe is shown through McDormand’s performance, which is one of her most delicate and sophisticated. Fern is a tremendously complex lady, someone who may be restless to the point of being self-destructive, but who is also incredibly kind and open with her friends and family. She strikes up new friendships in every place she arrives, from those ladies she meets on the way to an RV show to a young man borrowing her light. With a glance or a wry smirk, McDormand conveys so much that most performers couldn’t manage with a whole monologue. Incredible acting to describe the entire life. We can see, from each beat and each decision, an implication behind it. It’s so spectacular that she proves to be one of the best actresses with her best acting performance.
Zhao’s technical prowess is on par with what McDormand delivers in “Nomadland“. Her reunion with Joshua James Richards, the film’s cinematographer, one more time, helps them rediscover the beauty of the country’s landscapes once more. Capturing the majesty of the land surrounding her, the duo managed to shoot long, horizontal scenes at seemingly magic hour. Fern’s voyage takes her all over the United States, and Zhao and Richards lean into the magnificence of the world around her. It’s a gorgeous film to watch, and it’s not just because of the “beauty shots.” Everything in Nomadland’s visual language is striking – even the way the camera following Fern through a van-dwellers community feels rhythmic while never losing the realism and harshness of the situation. It’s difficult to fathom how Zhao could create a picture with such lovely compositions but still feel like it has dirt under its fingernails. Ludovico Einaudi’s moving score, easily receiving my favorite award of the year, adds to the poetry of it all.
The majority of the people meeting Fern in the road in “Nomadland” are non-actors who live this nomadic lifestyle. (Only David Strathairn, a man Fern makes friends with, is familiar with audiences.) Fern’s chats and interactions have an impromptu, natural aspect to them that roots the picture. They mention stories of fulfilling their life with a desire to roam every route, make suggestions on how to live safe and sound outside, and encourage one another in rare ways compared to traditional neighbors. Instead of merely a fictitious account of a fascinating woman, it also serves as a reminder of the vast number of people who have stories to tell and ambitions that have yet to be realized. Despite this, never has it drowned in depression or grief.
Obviously, there is always the existence of grief in the journey, such as in the way McDormand grins when she hears someone else talk about a loved one who has passed away. Possibly, it reminds her of her spouse. And “Nomadland” has been seen as the story of a lady fleeing from bereavement, cut off from community after everything she knew perished. It is partly true. However, it’s also the narrative of a generation of Americans who are unclear of where they’re going next or what tomorrow may bring. The images of “Nomadland” that feel like answers to the restlessness and fear of 2020 are those that contain so much beauty in the simplest things—a friend’s smile, a dip in a river, a stranger’s nice gesture. We may not be able to immediately connect to Fern’s hardships, but we can all relate to her sense of disquiet and uncertainty. It might be the time for us to start our own journey.
This review was written in connection with the Toronto International Film Festival’s debut. Today, February 19th, 2021, it will be re-released in theaters and on Hulu.
