Quietly intimate "Nomadland" lulls you in with an empathetic look at nomadic way of life

Nomadland (2020)

In Chloé Zhao’s follow-up film to 2018’s “The Rider,” which focused on a real-life rodeo bronco rider, “Nomadland” introduces and transports the audience to a community unknown to many with the genuine presence of Frances McDormand as our way in. Based on the 2017 non-fiction book “Nomadland: Surviving America in the Twenty-First Century” by Jessica Bruder, Zhao’s film is a beautifully observed study of a character and a whole way of life approached with compassion and a quiet intimacy without pitying or gawking at those who have taken to the van-dwelling life. Documentary-like in its slice-of-life authenticity, “Nomadland” lulls you in and bares its human heart from the American margins.

In 2011, due to a reduced demand for sheetrock, the United States Gypsum Corporation shut down its plant in Empire, Nevada, after eighty-eight years. In six months, Empire’s zip code would be discontinued. Not long after losing her house and her entire town, Fern (Frances McDormand) also lost her husband. To Fern, she is not homeless, just houseless. Learning to survive on her own, she lives in her van and has a seasonal job at an Amazon fulfillment center. After the new year, she hits the road, moving from state to state, looking for more work, and meeting plenty of people at RV campsites and communities along the way. Not all is lost for Fern. 

Written for the screen, directed, and edited by Chloé Zhao, “Nomadland” is never false, maudlin, or Hollywoodized. Less concerned with an incident-filled plot than it is a full, winding journey of real life that still somehow doesn’t come off meandering and aimless, the film is about nothing and everything. We live with Fern and this community, and that is not only more than enough but more profound. Zhao and cinematographer Joshua James Richards stunningly capture the vastness and the beauty of this nomadic on-the-road lifestyle, which brings about melancholy and hardships but also freedom and peace. 

No other actress could effortlessly insinuate herself into this wandering tribe with as much naturalism as Frances McDormand. As she is wont to being, McDormand is exceptional as Fern. To just “be” is a more difficult task than it would sound, but McDormand seems to be playing the closest version of herself. She is self-protective but open, resourceful but not a know-it-all, and tough but not invulnerable. Fern can be stubborn, too, but she prefers living on the road to staying in her sister's guest room. And, vanity be damned, she even shits in a bucket in her van. Apart from McDormand and longtime character actor David Strathairn (who poignantly essays fellow nomad Dave), Zhao uses non-actors to tell her story. Of them, real-life nomads Swankie, Linda May, and Bob Wells all make indelible imprints in playing versions of themselves. 

Aching and empathetic, “Nomadland” speaks a languid cinematic language all its own, albeit closest to the work of Kelly Reichardt. American films have trained us to expect traditional three-act storytelling structures where tragedy must strike, but Zhao does not approach her story this way. Fern’s story isn’t even over once the film is over, but it’s as perfect and satisfying a stopping point as any. When we leave Fern, it doesn’t feel like a final goodbye. We’ve been through an entire journey with her, and the film’s lasting impact could be equated to seeing Fern down the road.

Grade: A -

Searchlight Pictures released “Nomadland” (108 min.) in theaters on December 4, 2020.