Nomadland

The Surprising Faces of Community

5/5

Spoilers

It has been just over a week since I awoke to see that my sense of detachment from this year's Oscars season, the sense that had burrowed itself quite thoroughly into the back of my mind, had been legitimised. Two films that I had no ability to see had won five out of the 'Big Six' awards. That small feeling became more prominent and it seemed like I had failed to engage with the movies adequately during 2020. Obviously, this is not the case, as I watched everything I could. But the absence of Nomadland and The Father from any streaming platform sent me metaphorically out into the cold. I was excluded from the film community I normally joyfully engaged with.

I can be quite an anally-retentive sort of person. My library of books is categorised and alphabetised in a format superior to any public library; I agonise over 'genre' labels when uploading CDs onto iTunes; I have to watch things in the correct order and get slightly bothered by 'casual watches' of TV series. To compliment my collections, have several lists of films to watch which I religiously tick off: AFI 100, BFI 100 (presented on a very nice scratch card for me by very good friends), IMDB 250 (from about three years ago - don't question that one), and the list of 'Big Six' Academy Award winners since their inauguration. Feeling cold from being shunned in my film watching exploits this year, my initial reaction was to return the shunning and refuse to watch either Nomadland or The Father. But there they are, added for eternity to my historic Oscars list. And, unfortunately, I can't leave that list unticked.

On Friday, Nomadland was released to Disney+. On Sunday, I begrudgingly sat down to watch it. Unsurprisingly, for a film that won three Oscars, I was glad I did. Nomadland is indeed one of the standout films of the year and a worthy contender. Its an incredibly thoughtful piece of cinema, carefully crafted by director, writer, and editor Chloé Zhao.

At the heart of this movie is the concept of community. It examines how this sense of community can change, evolve, and almost vanish. Yet, no matter where one goes, community must always follow. Fern, played by the inimitable Frances McDormand, is found at the beginning of the picture leaving the community she has resided in throughout her adult life. In fact, it is more truthful to say that the community has already left her, her town having been abandoned following the closing of a slate works. With a desire for freedom she sets out as a vandweller, living life as a nomad.

Here is where the contradiction arises: Fern desires solitude of sorts away from a house and town yet becomes attached to a recurring hosts of fellow vandwellers. In this freedom she has found others. She works a series of seasonal jobs alongside Linda May. She resides besides Swankie in a desert layby. She attends a yearly gathering led by Bob, where nomads greet old friends and share tales of the road. And she begins a near-romantic relationship with Dave, who repeatedly crops up wherever she goes and eventually offers her a return to 'civilisation' and a traditional family community. The question, should she take that offer and thus abandon her new community? Perhaps she should live with her own sister, settled in a small community of realters. Or perhaps she has the community she needs already.

Aside from the philosophical questions of how one fits into humanity's societies, the film is also a beautiful spectre to behold. I could not help agreeing with the suggestion my Dad made that it would have been a sight to see on the big screen. Part of the pull for Fern to live nomadically is shown to be her freedom to explore nature's wonders. America has many such dramatic views, from the snows of the north, through the desert landscapes, to towering redwoods, and more. The film, without dawdling, gives these images space to breath and space to leave the viewer awestruck.

This well-crafted film is successful for one primary reason, though, and this is Chloé Zhao. As writer, director, and editor there is nary a shot nor line that isn't tied closely into her vision. She is the soul of this film's success and the artistry behind it. The adaptation was one brought to Zhao by McDormand, who, as producer, had purchased the rights to the book. But the delicacy and precision of touch, the care with which this panorama of nomadry is handled, would lead you to believe it was Zhao's baby all along.

The cinemas reopen at the end of the month. Should Nomadland find its way to the Sutton Coldfield Empire, I would go. To see this piece of art in its truest setting, re-engaging with my own cinematic community, would be a most fitting start to this new cinematic year. I heartily suggest you do likewise.