Nomadland - 2020
I was overwhelmed by two competing, if complementary, thoughts at the conclusion of Nomadland. The first was in regards to its director, Chloe Zhao. My rumination ran something like this: “I am in the hands of a master.” A generational editor, shot framer, scorer. A nascent titan of the medium. Most of all, a master craftsman. She is simply a wunderkind of the highest degree. The second notion rolling around my noodle was in regards to her work. I’d say it was a sit-through-the-credits-and-that-beautiful-piano-score-staring-blankly-ahead kind of watch. I told my friends after the film finally wrapped that I had six trillion thoughts, and not one of them was eloquent. Rare today is it that we get this kind of depth of inquiry, probing at deep themes through naturalistic performances that, like the topics presented, are all too human.
Where should I begin? Might as well make the bold claim: Nomadland is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. That is no understatement. Chloe Zhao’s whole appeal to me is this stunning visual poetry she creates. Alongside her remarkable cinematographer, Joshua James Richards, Zhao’s use of natural lighting, particularly in landscapes, is unreal. Moreover, having a score to match it is so moving. For two films running now, Zhao has wedded these jaw-dropping visuals to lived-in naturalistic performances, many of them from untrained/non-professional actors. Folks who, in other words, are playing a sort of dramatized version of themselves.
While I found The Rider to be a stunning achievement in its exploration of masculinity and identity against the backdrop of Western archetypes, Nomadland only raises the stakes. It is obvious this time around that Zhao has more resources at her disposal and a larger purse to dip into for this project. The result is a larger, more varied cast, bigger production, and grander themes. Still, she never loses her distinctive flare. This film trades the old West of cowboys and rodeo stars for a group of natural nomads, folks who have for one reason or another (economic niches shutting down, abandoned towns, loss of loved ones, etc.) embraced an itinerant life where home and vehicle are one and the same. “I’m not homeless,” Fern relates to us at one point. “I’m just houseless. Not the same thing, right?”
The cast of real nomads are the real stars of Nomadland for me. At first it would appear that they are the “window dressing” of the picture. After all, the plot centers around Frances McDormand’s Fern, a woman who has lost much. Things too painful to really face. And so she rides on from town to town. But, as it turns out, it’s really the people that she meets along the way that are the heartbeat of the whole affair. In this way, we are granted a supreme sort of travelogue, where untrained actors relate all these real tales as they weave in and out of Fern’s life along the road.
A few of these scenes are particularly notable. The most beautiful moments of the film, in my opinion, belong to an older woman named Swankie. She’s painfully aware of her mortality and the “road” which she is traversing. Yet rather than lament the fading light of days, she instead recalls the most exquisite experiences along the way. So, she relates a tale of kayaking on a lake in Colorado and seeing hundreds of swallows under, over, and all around her. “That was like, it's just so awesome,” she says. “I felt like I've done enough. My life was complete. If I died right then, at that moment, would be perfectly fine.”
Or the moments with Bob Wells, a sort of spokesman for the nomads and an advocate for cheap RV living. Bob, as we find out, hides his own deep wounds. Yet rather than wallow, he cast his eyes outward and began to offer a lifeline to those sinking under the weight of economic struggles and worrisome, ceaseless toiling. All of Bob’s words are quote board material, but it is perhaps his lines near the finale which linger the longest: “One of the things I love most about this life is that there's no final goodbye. You know, I've met hundreds of people out here and I don't ever say a final goodbye. I always just say, "I'll see you down the road."
So, if it the real stars are Swankie and Linda and Bob Wells, then why all the love for Frances this Oscar season? Well, in Nomadland, McDormand accomplishes a rare feat. In fact, she excels not by standing OUT, but by blending IN. She is a revelation not because she stands in the center of the frame (though she does that exceptionally well throughout), but in her ability to get out of the way! Through her naturalistic performance, subtle portrayals of deep wells of emotion, pain, brokenness, and utter humanity, McDormand almost manages to convince us that she’s just like all these other untrained actors. WHAT an accomplishment for a woman who has two golden statues for her turns in Fargo and Three Billboards…. It’s simply a breathtaking achievement for a performer.
But, in the end, I must return to the top. The ultimaterevelation of Nomadland isn’t Frances or trailers or the untrained actors or even the fantastic David Strathairn. It’s Chloe. The way she frames shots. Her meticulous care as a masterful editor, weaving all this together so that not a stitch is visible to our eye. Moreover, I continue to be blown away by this rare ability of hers – In most films, dialogue is like a running engine. It teaches the viewer about characters. It draws the viewer into individuals, plot arcs, and major themes. But in her films, it is almost as if dialogue INTERRUPTS the reverie. The most natural, ordinary moments become meditative portraits of humanity touching transcendence.
And so it is with this one of a kind picture. A film that doesn’t really arrive at a destination per se, but remains one I could get lost in reflection of for hours, searching for deep analysis of Fern’s inner psychology on themes of family and grief and loss. But mostly I come for the beauty. The landscapes and the vibrant humanity. It’s nice to make new friends, especially ones I’ll be glad to see on down the road.
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