Nomadland

Director: Chloé Zhao
Starring: Frances McDormand, David Strathairn, Linda May, Charlene Swankie, Bob Wells, Derek Endres, Peter Spears, Tay Strathairn
Running Time: 108 min.
Rating: R 

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

Chloé Zhao's Nomadland resides somewhere between a true life documentary, Into The Wild and About Schmidt while somehow not feeling like any mainstream feature at all. Some will be gutted and transfixed by the painfully realistic and depressing picture it paints of the displacement of older people in rural America, even as others tire of its non-linear narrative and lack of resolution. Place me in the former camp. Meandering, but in the best possible way, it kind of ambles along plotlessly in the vein of its protagonist, so effortlessly absorbing in its matter-of-fact storytelling that it's of little surprise Zhao adapted it from a non-fiction book (Nomadland: Surviving America in the Twenty-First Century, by Jessica Bruder).

With a cast full of untrained actors and hardly a traditional beginning, middle or end to speak of, there's something wonderfully straightforward about just observing this woman and the challenges she faces without any editorializing or cloying attempts at wringing sympathy. She is who she is, and two-time Oscar winner Frances McDormand's face does all the work in conveying her experiences and what could possibly follow. The latter is tricky since most of time she doesn't know, and seems remarkably okay with that, if even occasionally proud. Of course, she's not okay and has been through a lot, making McDormand's naturalistic performance the movie's not so secret weapon, as she skillfully navigates what could have easily come off as a pity party in less capable hands.

Simultaneously a tribute to human endurance and the perseverance of strangers, the story's harsher realities are never ignored. Many lifelines are thrown this woman's way but she doesn't take them, perhaps partially out of stubbornness, but mainly because she values the independence of carving her own path. Beautifully photographed and edited, it's like watching life unfold in real time, with its sparse plot strangely increasing its staying power and our desire to eventually return for more viewings, in hopes we can continue peeling back the layers of its incredibly relatable characters. 

It's 2011 and Fern (McDormand) loses her job at the USG Corporation plant in Empire, Nevada when it shuts down, causing her to sell most of her belongings and hit the road in a van. Still mourning her husband's recent death, she lives out of her vehicle traveling and looking for a job when she finds seasonal employment at an Amazon fulfillment center. While there, friend and co-worker, Linda (Linda May) recommends she look into a desert community in Arizona run by vandweller Bob Wells (YouTuber Bob Wells, playing a version of himself). 

After initially dismissing Linda's idea, Fern changes her mind and ventures out to the community, learning crucial survival skills for the road while meeting other nomads, such as the ailing but feisty Swankie (Charlene Swankie) and David (David Strathairn), with whom she strikes up a close friendship. Fern's stay, much like everything else in her life right now, is temporary, before heading off for a new adventure. She'll encounter David again, but his somewhat strained relationship with son Peter (Peter Spears) unexpectedly prompts some self-reflection of her own. Torn between further asserting her independence or potentially putting down roots in a more traditional sense, she finds herself at a literal crossroads, open to wherever the journey takes her next.

There's an awkward but moving early scene when Fern is approached in a store by a woman and her teen daughter she once tutored. Having heard Fern's living out of a van, the mother offers to let her stay at their place, even as we know there's no chance she'd ever accept. Her pride simply won't allow it. And then comes that word. "Homeless." Just hearing it stings, as she's quick to point out that she's "house-less," which sums up the situation of the various nomads we meet over the course of the film, older people who by choice or circumstance have found themselves on society's financial outs. The shutdown of Fern's plant has economically decimated her the town and its residents, and now, without a livable government pension and limited work options for someone her age, Bob Wells' roaming lifestyle looks superior to most alternatives.

Traveling from town to town in a van while taking one low-paying job after the next, we realize the true desperation of her predicament. It's easy to be lulled into viewing this as an entirely inspirational tale since Fern is such a headstrong, determined woman whom McDormand imbues with a level-headed optimism and toughness. But this isn't okay. There's a lot she doesn't know, and while the support system of fellow nomads provide valuable guidance, she's always half a step away from disaster, as are  many others who adopted nomadic life. A flat tire or any vehicular maintenance issue isn't a day at the beach for anyone, but it's especially catastrophic when every penny counts like this.

The authentic bonds Fern forms with Linda, Bob, Swankie and David are transient ones, both because of the nature of their lifestyles (as Bob says, it's "see you down the road" rather than goodbye) and her inability to let people in following her husband's passing. A fledgling romance with David seems destined to go nowhere as discomfort radiates through every interaction she has, closing her off from the rest of the world. There comes a point in the film where she has a shot at settling down into a comfortable existence and it's clear she just can't do it, no matter how welcoming the invite or warmth of hospitality. 

When Fern's life with her husband ended, so did she in a sense. The last act doesn't doesn't offer much in the way of closure, as it shouldn't for this character. It's a story still very much being written and far from completely resolved, following a cyclical pattern that keeps drawing Fern back to the road. While it's open for interpretation whether her decision to continue living like this is cause for celebration, what's harder is offering up another ending that would ring as true. Still, it's impossible to not see the bigger picture here in that many of these nomads have been unnecessarily relegated to the fringes for circumstances far beyond their control.  

Zhao, who previously directed 2018's highly acclaimed The Rider, emerges as the ideal fit for a specific type of project that could have turned out a myriad of different ways depending on who was behind the camera. A similarly themed entry in this sub-genre released that same year, Ani Simon-Kennedy's overlooked The Short History of the Long Road, covered a lot of intersecting ground, with a far younger character also learning tough lessons in self-sufficiency after tragedy strikes. Ironically, that effort, with which this would make a compelling double feature, ends in much the same way Nomadland begins, and also ends. Road movies seem to feature protagonists running from something, only to find themselves right back where they started, hopefully transformed and bettered from the experience. We're not sure Fern is, but the film finds serenity in the fact that she'll always be in the driver's seat.