Ask anyone to say something about America, you’ll probably hear any variation of the word freedom. America is the land of the free, but what does it mean to be free in America? Does it mean working for years to make enough money just to stay in the same place for the rest of your life? Such a less than ideal reality prompted Americans to popularize myths of escapism such as the American West through movies, books, and tourist attractions for the masses. This myth wasn’t of a perfect utopia, but images of cowboys riding across the open plains was an encapsulation of an America that is truly free from the shackles of suburban life. However, at the end of the day, it’s still just a fantasy – one that eventually grew out of fashion in popular culture. So, does the idea of freedom out West exist? Does true freedom in America even exist? Enter filmmaker Chloé Zhao.
As a Chinese immigrant, Zhao has been fascinated with the American myth that was presented to her through pop culture. To get to the bottom of the myth, Zhao set her first two films (Songs My Brothers Taught Me and The Rider) in the American West showing life on Native Reservations and as a former Bronc rider. They are stories not often told on on-screen but reflect the reality of the American West unlike any other. For the third film of her unofficial American West series, Zhao directs Nomadland, an adaptation of Jessica Bruder’s 2012 novel. With Nomadland, Chloé Zhao takes us on an exploration of American freedom in the West like it’s never been seen before.
Frances McDormand is Fern, a woman forced to leave her home in Empire, Nevada after the entire town collapses following the closing of a sheetrock factory. With her possessions being what lies in her van, Fern sets off across the American West looking for work. We learn bits and pieces about Fern’s life through her conversations with fellow travelers, but Zhao focuses Nomadland’s time on showing Fern traversing alone across the various environments she happens to inhabit. Whether it’s an Amazon warehouse, a van camp in Arizona, the badlands of South Dakota, or even a large house, we are walking alongside Fern as she takes in everything and contemplates her next move.
Like her previous films, Zhao populates Nomadland with non-actors, real-life nomads she found while researching and scouting locations for filming. They play themselves on screen or variations of themselves as they tell their stories and provide a deeper understanding of this often ignored world. Many of them aren’t even on screen very long, but their stories and presence resonate throughout the whole film. Just spending time with them feels important as they encapsulate the film’s bigger picture – nomads are people who are just trying to live life the best way they know how. Life is tough for them, where work can be limited and loneliness can seem infinite. Yet, looking at these people you can see that in spite of the circumstances they wouldn’t have it any other way. Fern has chosen this lifestyle because she wants to be free.
Nomadland, for the most part, avoids a plot filled with dramatic stakes and opts for a more meditative journey. The drama comes from Fern wrestling with loneliness and the struggles her newfound freedom comes with. Fern discovers early on that the economy is not kind to older working-class denizens as she gets by on the minimum wage work she can get. Age is in fact a big part of Nomadland since most of its cast is middle-aged or elderly – an age group not often depicted as leads of their own stories and their struggles with money. They’re not sexy enough for Hollywood. This is what makes Frances McDormand the perfect conduit to this world. She may be Hollywood, but being in her 60’s, she’s not receiving the same opportunities and roles afforded to younger actresses. However, this comes with some advantages for her performances: she is willing to display a kind of vulnerability that many of her colleagues wouldn’t, as Zhao puts McDormand through the real grit and grime of the nomads’ world.
As for the technical elements, Joshua James Richards’ (who is also the film’s production designer) cinematography is amazing as it captures the western landscape to be a beautiful, lonely, and occasionally bleak place. Zhao and Richards frame McDormand in both extreme closeups as well as long shots, so we can feel both her cramped quarters and the vast loneliness of being alone in the west. This is only accented by Ludovico Einaudi’s melancholic soundtrack that speaks the words Fern can’t say. Zhao herself also served as her own editor, making the film engaging with excellent pacing that keeps the film from losing its audience.
There is one scene I keep coming back to. At one point Fern and her new friend Dave (played wonderfully by an understated David Strathairn) work at a South Dakota tourist trap restaurant that’s filled with corny memorabilia of the Old West. Almost none of it is put into focus by Zhao’s camera. The only thing she focuses on are the people scrapping the tables and living life on their own terms because they are the true American West. They may not be free from the hardships of the economy but each in their own way has found their own personal freedom.
Overall Nomadland is a great film about the true American West right under people’s noses, one many people tend to avoid looking at. However, this film is not for everyone as it is done in a Cinéma Vérité style similar to films like The Florida Project and Zhao’s previous work. Yet, I believe that everyone should give it a chance nonetheless because what Zhao and McDormand have crafted is so moving that anyone who lays eyes on it can’t be helped but be entranced.
