Nomadland review- a serene, beautiful, but flawed work
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There is a serene calmness and beauty that can be found in Chloe Zhao’s Nomadland. Though it never shies away from the hardships faced by the nomad community in the United States, it reminds us of humanity’s enduring connection to the vast, tough, but magnificent allure of nature. At its best, Nomadland is evocative of Terrence Malick’s filmography with its stunning cinematography. At its worst, it feels like a hollow version of a Ken Loach drama. Yet, there is much to be said for its insight into the community its depicting.
The story centres around Fern (Frances McDormand), a strong-willed woman with a tough and rugged centre to her (a typically “Mcdormandian” part). During the Great Recession, she loses her job in Empire, Nevada, as well as her husband to illness. She sells all her things, purchasing a van and setting out on her own. During her travels, she takes various temporary jobs, including working at Amazon, Wall Drug and Badlands National Park (arguably a nod to Malick’s debut film). She is mostly alone, though finds community in the people she encounters along the way.
Zhao captures the brutality and vastness of America incredibly well. Nothing feels glamorous, but everything feels lived in. The use of real locations adds to this incredible visceral feeling that certain sequences in the film has. The rugged landscapes would fit perfectly into one of John Ford’s films; harsh, but staggeringly beautiful. Much of it feels aimless as Fern goes from one place to another, but her existence feels intentionally undirected. Unlike The Grapes of Wrath, Fern’s focus is on communal, rather than economic security. And the most impactful sequences focus on her conversations with the other nomads (all played by non-actors). As one character focuses on the circularity of her wedding ring, we realise the same thing about the life of the nomad.
Though there has been debate about the use of companies like Amazon, it never romanticises working in big corporations. Everyone feels expendable, and though friends can be made, it never feels related to the practices of the company.
Its structure is undeniably episodic, which mostly works in the film’s favour, although can lead to moments that drag. What doesn’t work is the character revelations about Fern. As we learn more about McDormand, she often comes across as rather selfish, which seems strange given the film’s subject matter. Without spoiling anything, she has various moments where she can escape her lifestyle for something safer. But she continues her journey into financial instability. But this feels rather offensive given her encounters with other nomads. Poverty is not something one can easily escape from, yet Fern has the opportunity to do so. It feels like she relishes in her downtrodden state and that her lifestyle is a choice on her part, rather than an involuntary one. Zhao might be making a slightly meta statement about how she and McDormand can escape the lifestyle, but the people around her cannot. But, nonetheless, it makes Fern’s journey far less effective than it could be.
However, it does not weaken much of the impact of the film. McDormand is of course fantastic in her role. It is not the outburst of emotion featured in Three Billboards, but one in which much of her performance feels internal. Zhao has realised that much of her talent comes from her face, rather than her notable vocal outpourings. Furthermore, the use of real-life actors adds to the authenticity, with it feeling like a documentary at various points. McDormand almost feels like a Louis Theroux type listening to the real-life anecdotes of the various characters that she encounters. Plus, you can never go wrong with a bit of David Strathairn.
Though not entirely successful, Zhao’s direction and McDormand’s performance give this enough bite. It might not be the most well-deserved Best Picture winner, but its intimate scale makes it an interesting watch.
