From the film\u2019s opening frames, we know who McDormand\u2019s Fern is. Scrappy and self-reliant, Fern cobbles together an unconventional life along the fringe. After the death of her husband, their beloved town of Empire, Nevada, soon follows suit, collapsing after its largest employer closes. Fern moves from place to place in her white Ford van, nondescript from the outside but outfitted with care as her home on the inside. An early scene finds Fern doing seasonal work at an Amazon warehouse, surrounded by acres of stuff that will be shipped to people who probably don\u2019t need it. Her life is a stark contrast, with everything she needs neatly organized into her van. She finds other short-term and odd jobs, moving across the American West wherever there is work. Though fiercely independent, Fern finds camaraderie with those who\u2019ve chosen a similar lifestyle, from Swankie and Linda May (who play themselves) to Dave (David Straithairn). <\/p>\n\n\n\n Zhao\u2019s pairing of Oscar winner McDormand and Oscar nominee Straithairn alongside non-professional actors adds even more authenticity to the drama, which is based on Jessica Bruder\u2019s nonfiction book Nomadland: Surviving America in the Twenty-First Century<\/em>. It may often be obvious who is and who isn\u2019t starring in their first film, but each performance still rings true. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Poetry and prose coexist here as well; Zhao unsentimentally shows the details of Fern\u2019s life, from using a bucket as a bathroom to making canned soup on a hot plate. However, Nomadland<\/em> also celebrates the sweetness of simple pleasures, from a campfire singalong to a bummed cigarette and shared beer. It reminds the audience of the beauty of both the everyday and the extraordinary. Joshua James Richards\u2019 expansive cinematography feels like the cinematic representation of \u201cThis Land Is Your Land,\u201d capturing the western U.S. from the desolate desert to the towering redwoods. Nomadland<\/em> recognizes some of America\u2019s good qualities \u2014 its wide-open spaces, how people take care of each other \u2014 while highlighting its inherent and intentional inequities. Fern\u2019s experience isn\u2019t an isolated case, as we see other nomads gathering together and RVs and vans dot the landscape. The vehicles are largely populated by those with wanderlust or who would have retired decades ago but can no longer afford to do so in the 21st-century economy. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Melancholy threads through Zhao\u2019s film, but Nomadland<\/em> never wallows in it or pities its protagonist and those like her. There\u2019s so much soul in this film, offering scenes that are funny and sweet and sad, at once so much like life and so full of life itself. Watching it is reminiscent of the late, great Sundance Channel drama Rectified<\/em>, a show about people who aren\u2019t normally seen on screen. That series shared a contemplative tone that dwells on life, death, and the merits of every moment in between. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Nomadland<\/em> is a humanist masterpiece, improving even on Zhao\u2019s critically beloved previous film, 2017\u2019s The Rider. <\/em>It demonstrates the value of each of these lives lived, both intrinsically as well as in showing a world many viewers might find foreign. This is a quiet film, but never a dull one, with shots and themes that will continue to resonate as it offers both criticism and comfort. <\/p>\n\n\n\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/crookedmarquee.com\/stage8\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/12\/nomad2-1024x575.jpg\")
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