The word that comes to mind after my second screening of Nomadland is “timing”—regarding the advantageous timing of its release, the unfortunate timing of events in the main character’s life, and the symbolic timing of so many scenes that take place at either dawn or dusk—that transitional realm, neither here nor there. Everything is in a suspended state of flux with this picture, including the audience as they live through a global pandemic.
Nomadland is a good film, not a great one, with a lot to offer and ponder but a lot of clumsy omissions in the narrative. They are either ignored or forgiven because the picture strikes a compelling chord with movie lovers and Oscar voters. Frances McDormand is inherently interesting to watch on screen, and she carries this film squarely on her shoulders. She is in every single scene, and I’m not sure that can be said of many (or any) other Best Actress–winners. McDormand isn’t one to elicit sympathy in her roles or performances, but she evokes empathy, a fundamental understanding of why her characters do what they do and say what they say. Most of her acting is reacting. I don’t catch her emoting for long, self-involved stretches. Instead, she observes and listens and absorbs, which is why I can go with her on so many cinematic journeys.
McDormand won her third Oscar for Best Actress as Fern, a woman who loses everything—her husband, her job, her house, her town, and her life as she knows it—before setting out on her own. In the first scene, she locks what few possessions she has left into a storage unit and hits the road in her van, which is now her home. We’ve been told by the title cards preceding this moment that Empire, Nevada, ceased to exist when their US Gypsum plant shut down. It was a one-industry town, so everyone was forced to leave. Even the Zip Code was terminated. Fern is among the last to go, holding onto her memories, particularly of her deceased husband.
She takes a seasonal job at a nearby Amazon distribution center, which supports her through the winter, and I’m already asking key questions that remain unanswered for the duration. We see in one shot that Fern has a Nevada driver’s license, but what home address is on it? How does she apply for jobs without a current residence? How does she fill out a W-4 form? Does she have a bank account or credit card? If not, how does she pay for her cell phone usage or storage unit? How does she cash a check? I admit I’m in the dark, but while I’m pondering critical information, where and when does Fern bathe or shower?
These are practical questions about her new life in a film that strives to show us “what it’s like.” They take seconds to give us the answers. How about a quick shot of Fern on payday? We see intimate (if somewhat repulsive) moments of her having diarrhea in a bucket inside her van. We see how cold she gets at night. We see how she finds jobs on bulletin boards and through word of mouth. We’re given a realistic approach to the people and places she encounters, yet we’re never shown how she manages her money or daily hygiene while living in her vehicle. Fern’s nomadic life unfolds without basic recurring details, and it’s an ongoing blunder in the story and screenplay.
We do get a romanticized and poetic version of her life, however. As brutal as it is at times, we also see the beauty of sunsets and sunrises, rocks and hills, rivers and streams. We see the transient connections she makes with others and the freedom in expelling earthly possessions and societal constraints. It’s the perfect tonic for audiences who have lived with lockdowns in isolation for more than a year—audiences who are told each day where they can and can’t go and what they can or can’t do in order to stay alive and healthy. Nomadland offers a glimpse at real people who travel under the radar, living by their own rules, means, and priorities.
Aside from McDormand and David Strathairn, plus a handful of others that include Strathairn’s own son Tay, most of the people we see living this life are actual nomads. Particularly effective are Swanky, Linda May, and Bob Wells, and it’s to writer-director Chloé Zhao’s credit that she is able to capture their genuine emotions and distinct personalities and weave them into the narrative. Zhao is the first woman of color and the second woman in history to win Best Director, but I’m equally impressed with her editing, which flows beautifully throughout the story.
The ending of Nomadland bothered me a lot, the first time I saw it, because there didn’t seem to be one. The movie simply rolls the credits while Fern keeps going wherever the road may take her, just as we have seen her do several times already. I had more unanswered questions, though. Her van breaks down at one point, but what happens when it dies for good? It’s bound to—and fairly soon, judging by its unreliable condition. So why not show it? Why end this story mid-thought, with the same repeated idea? What happens if she gets sick and can no longer work? What happens if she runs out of gas and hasn’t any money left to fill the tank? Fern’s daily life on the road is vulnerable, leaving her open to theft and other serious crimes.
I wasn’t as concerned with her dilemma the second time around. Perhaps I bought into the fantasy a bit more and didn’t care. We know she has a permanent place to stay with Dave (David Strathairn) and his family. It’s there if she needs or chooses it, but she won’t. She has to keep moving until she can’t any longer. It’s a precarious way of life, more so than most, but Fern has come to realize it’s only in this perpetual state of mindfulness and uncertainty that she truly feels free. I guess that’s the point, but in the end, despite a great effort to shed authentic light on this unusual way to live, Nomadland is more poetic than real.
Nomadland
Director | Chloé Zhao |
Primary Cast | Frances McDormand, David Strathairn, Linda May, Swankie, Bob Wells, Peter Spears, Tay Strathairn |
Familiar Faces | none (no repeat performers from the previous winning films) |
Firsts | Chloé Zhao is the first woman of color to be nominated for and win Best Director and the first woman to be nominated for Best Picture (as co-producer), Best Director, Best Screenplay, and Best Editing for the same film. Frances McDormand is the first woman to be nominated for and win Best Picture (as co-producer) and Best Actress for the same film. With Disney’s purchase during production of 20th Century Fox and its Searchlight division, Nomadland becomes the first Best Picture–winner distributed by Walt Disney Studios. |
Total Wins | 3 (Picture, Director, Actress: Frances McDormand) |
Total Nominations | 6 (Picture, Director, Actress: Frances McDormand, Screenplay: Adapted, Cinematography, Editing) |
Viewing Format | Streaming and Blu-ray Disc |