Review by
Eric Hillis
Directed by: Chloé Zhao
Starring: Frances McDormand, David Strathairn, Bob Wells, Linda
May, Charlene Swankie
Chloé Zhao is the anti-Sacha Baron Cohen. While the British comic
likes to set traps for Americans to bring out their worst tendencies, the
Chinese filmmaker is only interested in exposing the goodness that dwells
in the average American. Completely devoid of cynicism (which some critics
have used as a stick to beat her with), Zhao's films remind us of the
beauty of America, of its people and the enviable landscapes they occupy.
Zhao's first two films –
Songs My Brothers Taught Me
and
The Rider
– saw the director embed herself among the inhabitants of South Dakota's
Pine Ridge Indian Reservation, with non-professionals playing loose
versions of themselves. For her third film she's off the reservation and
venturing out onto the highways of the American West. But while she
continues her technique of mining affecting performances from amateurs,
she's now recruited Frances McDormand (or perhaps it's the other
way around). If Zhao is cinema's equivalent of the folk chronicler Alan
Lomax, think of Nomadland as Lomax heading into the
Appalachians with Bill Monroe on hand to strike up bluegrass duets with
the natives.
Inspired by Jessica Bruder's book 'Nomadland: Surviving America in
the Twenty-First Century', Nomadland immediately draws
parallels between the Great Depression of the 1930s and the Great
Recession of 2008. A casualty of the latter is Empire, Nevada, a company
town which ceased to exist in 2011 when the company went bust, forcing its
inhabitants to leave the area. McDormand plays a fictional Empire citizen,
Fern, a widowed sexagenarian who loads up a camper van with essentials and
some items of sentimental value, and hits the road in search of seasonal
work wherever she can find it.
Fern's first stop is a giant Amazon distribution centre. Some critics have
chastised Zhao for not commenting on that company's shameful treatment of
its staff, but Zhao isn't interested in politics, only people, and she
plays people like a great bandleader with McDormand as her chief soloist.
McDormand disappears flawlessly into the role, but perhaps what's most
impressive is how comfortable the amateurs she shares the screen with seem
in her presence. There's one marvelous moment where real life nomad
Charlene Swankie chastises McDormand for being so badly prepared
for a life on the road, as though she has no idea she's in the presence of
one of America's most acclaimed actors. Perhaps she doesn't; it's easy to
forget that McDormand might be an icon to cinephiles, but she's not
exactly a household name like Julia Roberts. The idea of a Hollywood star
living among the normies is fraught with potential for exploitation, but
McDormand is one of the last American movie stars who looks like an
American, and she appears genuinely touched by the people she meets and
the stories they spin.
David Strathairn turns up as a nomad smitten by McDormand, but even
he is outshone by the lived in authenticity of the amateurs we meet on the
road here. Among them is Bob Wells, a guru figure who helps
Americans who wish to up sticks and live the nomad lifestyle. His
heartbreaking monologue regarding his inspiration for becoming a
figurehead for such a growing movement will have you reaching for the
Kleenex.
If you're like me, then nothing moves you more in movies than simple acts
of human kindness. As with Zhao's previous films,
Nomadland is practically pornographic in this aspect, filled
with good people doing good deeds for one another. Every time you think
things are about to take a dark turn the exact opposite occurs and someone
steps in to help Fern, who isn't always appreciative of such assistance.
There's a stubbornness to Fern, who prefers to freeze in the back of her
van on a wintry night rather than accept the charity and shelter of
others. I guess being thrown out of your home by the company that
supported you for most of your life will do that to you.
Nomadland doesn't exactly sugarcoat life on the road, with its
problems of how to get rid of human waste and deal with adverse weather.
Nevertheless, it makes Fern's lifestyle enviable. She may have to forego
niceties and comforts, but she has the freedom of a cat disappearing over
a garden wall after emptying a bowl of food. And if you have to take a
shit in nature, there are far worse parts of the world you could do it in
than the Dakotas, whose stunning landscape is captured beautifully by
Zhao's right hand man, cinematographer Joshua James Richards.
Zhao's third film might contain concessions to mainstream filmmaking,
including an unnecessary but unobtrusive score by Ludovico Einaudi,
but Zhao largely eschews narrative in favour of mood. At one point Fern
recites a poem to provide some brief comfort to a troubled young man she
encounters, and though he likely doesn't understand the words, they make
him feel something regardless. Zhao is as poetic a filmmaker as it gets,
the closest to a John Ford figure we have today; and like that great
American master, she knows where to find poetry in America, in its people
and its panoramas.
Nomadland is on UK/ROI VOD/Digital now.
