The hardships and highlights of nomadic life in the U.S. are beautifully rendered with a profound humanity and vulnerability in Chloé Zhao’s Nomadland, based on the non-fiction book by American journalist Jessica Bruder.
Blending fiction with elements of non-fiction, Zhao’s cast includes the always marvellous Frances McDormand as the lead character Fern, as well as real-life nomads from Bruder’s book, including Linda May, Charlene Swankie and Bob Wells. While the nomads play slightly fictionalized versions of themselves, they add a vulnerable authenticity and depth to the narrative. It’s not the first time Zhao has used non-actors in a film, and her approach included listening to the nomads’ real stories and providing space to incorporate them into the film. At times, listening to the nomads share their experiences onscreen, it feels like a documentary. And although Fern and her nomad friend Dave (David Strathairn) are fictional characters, Zhao ensures we perceive the truth in their experiences as well.
Fern is one of the last to leave the ghost town of Empire, Nevada after the 2011 economic collapse of the local plant forced an exodus of the townspeople. Such was the mass migration, Empire’s zip code was discontinued. Grieving after the death of her husband, with no children and nothing left for her in Empire, Fern is forced to hit the road in her outfitted van, nicknamed Vanguard. While friends and family express concern, Fern is quick to distinguish that she is not homeless, just houseless.
Fern takes up work at an Amazon warehouse, where she befriends fellow nomad Linda May, a wonderfully warm person who encourages Fern to head south and engage with the wider nomad community. Initially reluctant, Fern seems to thrive around people and community, but simultaneously chooses to isolate herself, alone in her grief. After trying to stay north on her own, Fern admits defeat to the freezing winter conditions and drives south to meet up with Linda May and others at a nomadic gathering.
The film presents Fern in a life that’s alternately filled with the vibrance of a lively social community and stark loneliness. The nomads meet up throughout the year for events like Bob Wells’ Rubber Tramp Rendezvous, a gathering that Wells describes as a “bootcamp for beginner nomads.” Nomads arrive in hordes of vans to celebrate their community and lifestyle and teach beginners how to navigate life on the road, but after it’s all over, they go their separate ways. It’s in the very nature of their lifestyle to move on and yet, as they all drive away, it leaves Fern in total isolation. The contrast between the rural space alive with people and vans clustered together in a semblance of their own little town, and the aftermath of a desolate open expanse, Fern and her van a tiny blip in the landscape, is jarring. It creates a sensation of inner emptiness in which Fern seems lonely, not simply alone. Once again she finds she’s the last to leave, unsure of her destination.
The emotional downturns are offset by the joys and highs Fern experiences in life on the road and in the nomads she meets along the way, including Swankie and Dave. Stunning cinematography from Joshua James Richards captures the innate beauty and serenity of nature, readily available to explore. In one particularly tranquil scene, Fern bathes naked in a river, alone and at peace.
Watching Nomadland amidst the pandemic, there’s something especially compelling about the escapist fantasy of nomadic lifestyle. It invites us to leave everything behind, embrace the outdoors instead of isolating inside our homes, anxiety about the future stripped away by the freedom and possibilities of the open road. It’s the lure of the Western, the freely adventurous cowboy life romanticized in film. Indeed, one young nomad Fern meets looks as though he’s ambled straight out of a Western in an attempt to live out the fantasy. All he’s missing is a horse. While Nomadland indulges the escapism with gorgeous shots of undisturbed nature, stories from the nomads about kayaking all over America, and carefree campfires among friends, it also reminds us of the harsh realities behind the fantasy.
The nomads weave beautiful tales of freedom and opportunity in life on the road, but behind it often lies economic and emotional hardship. The nomads share stories of the difficulties that forced them into this lifestyle and their initial struggles to adapt. The 2008 financial crash in particular left many of them without jobs and homes. Fern, like many real nomads, must find inclement seasonal work to pay for gas and food, picking up various jobs including working in construction, at an Amazon warehouse, and at an RV campsite. Fern also experiences a few close calls: when her van breaks down, she can’t afford the cost of repairs and relies on financial help from her sister. While Fern is healthy, there are nomads she meets who have serious health conditions, and there’s an unspoken sense that exorbitant health costs play a factor in their decision to live out their remaining days on the road, on their terms.
Fern encourages her friend Dave to return home to his family, but finds she cannot settle down herself. While visiting her family, it becomes clear she’s been a roving spirit her entire life. She becomes uncomfortable in the family home environment and inevitably returns to the road. She struggles with goodbyes, to those in her present as well as her past. When Fern briefly returns to Empire to take stock of her old life, amidst the melancholy there’s an element of hope. She’s found a support system in the nomad community, and she’s embraced a valuable philosophy from Wells that enables her to finally move beyond her grief, a philosophy shared by her newfound community: nomads don’t say goodbye, they say see you down the road.
Score: A
© 2021. UniversalCinema Mag.