Zhao spares us the kinds of flowery speeches that Oscar-bait movies tend to offer. McDormand does a sensational job, filling every frame with character through nuance. Here, she allows a storied actor to shoulder Nomadland. In her previous film, The Rider, Zhao trusted non-actor leads to carry the story based on their lives. The Dream is a cushy retirement in a big, beautiful house, but their reality is cramped, uncertain, and rolling. Through her story and others unfurled, Zhao explores how salt-of-the-Earth hard-working Americans can bust their asses their whole adult lives, and still wind up with next to nothing. Fern has little patience for suburban superiority, in part because she knows all too well the lie of this American Dream. A sly contrast emerges between the conversations around the nomad campfire and the backyard grill, the latter slippery with smugness. Sharply, she contrasts this to the more typical American lifestyle by having Fern visit a couple of friends in their house. She uses subtle story beats to establish the dangers that exist in this life for an older woman on her own in remote terrain. Yet Zhao doesn't romanticize the experience. It is a gift to be allowed into this space, to be trusted to be a nomad vicariously. They commiserate, advise, and share, creating a community that is rich and kind though always on the move. They laugh together, talking of the less fun parts of nomad life (spoilers: it involves a bucket). They tell tales of loss, rebellion, and rebirth. The gentle light of the fire caresses faces hardened by tough times. But most of all, we are encouraged to hear-and really take in-the stories of these nomads, who gather, disperse, and meet again somewhere down the road. Without an intrusive score, we are encouraged to hear the simple sounds of the American desert: the scrape of rocks underfoot, the crackle of the campfire, or the soft howl of the wind. Watching her do so is absolutely exhilarating because of Zhao's approach. All the while, she's treading her own path. Tellingly, the teaser release for this film is just Fern walking through a camp of nomads, some gathered and chatting, others exercising together, others working on their caravans. With a spare score, Zhao urges us to forget the artifice of narrative cinema and ease into the footsteps of Fern. This sense of immediacy and intimacy only grows more intense as the film goes on. You can almost feel that hug because of how Zhao captures such textures. She holds him so tightly that you can see his winter coat buckle under the pressure of her grip. In the first sequence, we see Fern silently saying goodbye to her old life by hugging a neighbor farewell. But as so many of us are in lockdown, barred from travel, loved ones, and physical contact to keep each other safe, watching this movie was a blessing and a balm. Play It's a cliché to say that movies matter more now than ever. So, the movie doesn't move as much as it meanders. We witness her struggles to make a home of her small van, giving it sentimental touches and critical repairs. She is an Amazon packer for the holiday rush, an RV park host for tourist season, a waitress come fall. Nomadland follows her from one seasonal job to the next. So, she bought a van and set out to grab a piece of the nomad life. Having recently lost her husband, Fran was left without a house, without a job, and without her community, who scattered to the winds. When it closed in 2011, so too did the town, losing its zip code. She lived in a town called Empire, Nevada, where a sheet rock factory was the core of its economy. Her backstory is explained simply in opening title cards. However, the film is centered on two-time Academy Award winner Frances McDormand, who plays the aforementioned widow, Fern. Zhao stays true to the roots of realism by folding non-actors and actual modern-day nomads into her film to give audiences an authentic feel for the way of life it portrays. Zhao wrote, directed, and edited Nomadland, which is based on Jessica Bruder's non-fiction book Nomadland: Surviving America in the Twenty-First Century. With all this in mind, it was with sky-high expectations that I sat down to watch Zhao's latest. This honor was bestowed on Joker last year and now goes to the rising filmmaker who brings her talents to the MCU's upcoming Eternals. As it gained buzz at the Toronto International Film Festival, this tender drama about a widowed wanderer won the Golden Lion, the top prize at the Venice Film Festival.
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