NYFF 2020: Nomadland
nyff 2020The choice to be alone. The choice to live beyond society. The choice to die. These are the forks in the road that lie at the heart of Nomadland, and each respective path isn’t taken lightly. Fern’s (Frances McDormand) journey doesn’t have a destination. Not only has she lost her job, her home and husband, but her hometown of Empire has been scattered to the winds; the film follows her over the course of a year, driving in an indeterminable loop, scraping by between jobs and life on the road.
Films like this usually depict the struggles of the youth, with Into the Wild and American Honey coming to mind first. That isn’t the case for Chloe Zhao’s third feature, rooting itself in the fallout of The Great Recession and how it has affected countless older Americans. To say it’s about people facing an uncertain and unfair future is an understatement. It’s a staggering, quietly devastating exploration of lives rendered unknown and invisible, and not only that – it subtly suggests this might be a possible fate for generations ahead, who are similarly threatened by the loss of retirement savings and debt.
Based on Jessica Bruder’s non-fiction book of the same name, the film isn’t only directly based on the experiences of these migratory “workampers”, but features several of the people who are being profiled: Linda May, Charlene Swankie and “long-time van dweller” Bob Wells. In a revealing scene, May relates how she worked her entire life only to receive $500 in social security, leading to a life on the RV circuit. Zhao has a talent for coaxing moving performances from non-actors, but it is hardly needed in these moments. The film repeatedly offers glimpses into a way of living that comes from losses few can imagine and there is an unexpected weight to what is being depicted because it is real.
As one of the only fictional characters, McDormand inhabits her role with the same grit and determination of Oscar-winning performance for Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri. At the same time, she becomes indistinguishable from real-life nomads playing her acquaintances and friends, while the overlap between fact and fiction is often blurred. Zhao crafts Nomadland to be observational and anecdotal, utilising fluid shots and deliberate cuts that give it the trappings of a documentary. The first note of score is heard around forty minutes in, signifying a rare communion Fern rarely finds or allows herself to feel. When that finally happens it elevates the experience to one of the most unforgettable scenes of the year.
Despite the risks and challenges Fern faces, the film is continuously punctuated by acts of tenacity, generosity and unsolicited kindness. Although, for a variety of reasons, these people are living a transient life, they are steadfastly devoted to keeping connected and helping one another. While Nomadland is mainly about Fern’s unpredictable trajectory, it also highlights the collective experiences that surround her narrative, which is essentially a story of survival. These stories are rarely heard and never fully recognised, but here they find a place to be contemplated.
“What’s remembered lives” Fern observes at one point, and it stresses how ephemeral this kind of life can be. Within its nearly two-hour runtime, the film bears witness to a way of surviving that requires deep commitment but is constantly shifting in directions that are ultimately unknown. The usual comforts of life have are now absent, and the act of letting them go is felt immensely.