“We be the bitches of the badlands.”

‘Nomadland’ is one of those movies where nothing much happens, but it’s the type of movie you sit back and vibe with it.

This is a very attentive movie, where you journey along with this woman (played by Frances McDormand) who is fed up with her old life and decides to go off grid by traveling to different places while living in her van. She’s not homeless, just houseless. She is like a leaf that quietly and casually drifts from location to location. She encounters different people in this community, who are played by real nomads. Throughout the whole movie you are never in one place for too long, you just keep moving on.

I’ll give director Chloé Zhao and cinematographer Joshua James Richards major credit for they approach to a story like this. Zhao decision to include real nomads with their actual names in the movie as these characters made the story feel genuine and personal, which helps gives us a solid perspective on what life of a nomad is like but done in a respectful way that doesn’t intrude their lives. The cinematography from Joshua James Richards looks beautiful and does a great job showing off the Western landscape. Some locations can look so cold, and yet, other locations look so tranquil in the sunlight.

This movie is worth checking out just for Frances McDormand performance alone, as she is terrific in this movie. She plays Fern, an adventurous woman who is a child at heart, despite dealing with some personal issues from the inside that we are informed about briefly.

Also, I thought the real nomads were surprisingly good. I’m not sure if all the scenes with them are scripted or not, but either way I thought they were great.

While there’s a lot of things that I enjoyed and appreciated about this movie, but unfortunately it didn’t 100% connect with me on a emotional level. At first, I liked the whole open road freedom to the movie, because since the main character is never in one place, you too become a wanderer, but I also feel it misses the opportunity of a powerful character study, especially with a character like Fern when it’s clear that there’s more underneath the surface with her.

I found the pacing of the movie to be an issue for me, because with a two-hour runtime I would sometimes find myself losing interest in the characters and what was happening on screen, as the movie didn’t further develop or do anything with the content and ideas it presents.

While the music was appropriately used for certain scenes, but most of the time it felt really distracting and took me out of the scenes.

Overall rating: Again, there’s a lot of things that I appreciated about the movie and am interested in what Chloé Zhao has up her sleeves for Marvel’s ‘Eternals’, which I hope gives her the freedom to make whatever she wants in the late future, with the extra cash and name recognition.

[9.4/10] *Nomadland* is an unassuming period piece, taking place roughly a decade before it was released. You wouldn’t know that beyond a few stray mentions of dates and times and the presence of a couple old cell phones that could be written off as the tech available to the film’s titular nomads. The movie centers on those travelers, getting by in desert campouts and parking lot largesse and the wide spots in the countryside. The places they inhabit feel simultaneously weathered and timeless enough to resist being dated.

And yet, it’s hard to imagine a film more salient to our times. Palpable in the very premise of the film is the sense of things left behind by a society with not enough care for the least of us. The precious possession, animals, and even people cast aside because there’s no one there to care for them permeate the film’s consciousness. It is, in its way, a blistering indictment of the community that would prompt its denizens to resort to such desperate, if resourceful, measures for want of other choices.

But it’s also a movie about loss, about the way that our connections to the people closest to us create roots deeper than any particular place, even places with warm beds and hot food. When those roots are torn up by illness or death or a changing economic landscape, it may be hard, if not impossible, to put them down ever again. Coupled with the practical reasons for adopting this lifestyle, *Nomadland* delves into the psychology of it, the sense of deep bonds severed that lead to a rootlessness even in those blessed with the options to settle down someplace.

The embodiment of this situation is Fern, a widow from a mining town in Nevada that withered on the vine when no one needed sheetrock anymore. The film follows her travelogue over the course of a year and beyond, rambling the countryside to wherever there’s work or community enough to sustain her. We see the world through the window of the van that doubles as both her transportation and her shelter, as she makes friends, muddles through as best she can, and scrapes by on a combination of hard work and the kindness of strangers.

Writer/director/editor Chloé Zhao lends this journey the air of naturalism it deserves. There are no big speeches here, little in the way of plot or firm structure. Instead, the movie laudably takes on the spirit of its protagonist, salt-of-the-earth wandering mixed with the buoying and complicated tangles of human interactions brought to the foreground. It’s a film that ambles, and sometimes stutters, but always in tune with the atmosphere Zhao aims to create and the internal feelings that Fern conveys.

It seems bold to say for an actor as deservedly decorated and venerable as Frances McDormand, but Fern may be her magnum opus. Fern is not a character who tells people what she really thinks or feels, almost to a fault. But in the tiniest expressions on McDormand’s face, the shifts in body language or sense of palpable discomfort when something seems too close or just close enough, she communicates those sensations and sentiments to the audience clear as a bell.

That thoroughly lived-in performance matches beautifully with *Nomadland*’s stunning cinematography. Director of Photography Joshua James Richards shoots astounding vistas from across the American landscape, finding beauty in desolate old towns, desert flora and fauna, and faces lit by fires crackling from the ground and stars shining from the night sky. The sense of loneliness mixed with human connection, of tininess within a vast natural world, comes through in the wonderful collection of images Zhao and Richards present.

It matches with the deliberateness of Zhao’s approach here, buoyed by soothing but melancholy piano-based score that adds feeling to the movie’s empty spaces. There’s something propulsive about *Nomadland* in its way, sinking into Fern’s endless search for the next odd job, the next temporary solution to her problem, the next friendly face who offers solace amid the ceaseless wandering. But Zhao also isn’t afraid to pause and show Fern simply being, to focus on the smaller moments of her life and experience that make the character and journey seem so real and viscerally felt.

Her plight comes through in the tough choices she makes in the first half of the film, and the fellow travelers she connects with grappling with the same. Through Fern, the viewer hears stories of sickness, grief, and other methods of falling through the safety net that prompt people to learn to live out of their vans in faraway places. No one ever articulates it, short of the nomads’ resident philosopher, but there’s the sense of these individuals having been victimized by a system that no longer has use for them, wanting to detach and start anew somewhere that they’re not bound by it.

It results in an inherent transience, but also deeper, liberating ties to the natural world in spare moments of grace and beauty. People flit in and out of Fern’s life -- Swankie, Linda May, Dave -- each leaving an impression on her but finding ways to move on as time and necessity progress. The joy and renewed loss of these fleeting but no less meaningful bonds animates the film, as we see small doses of stability and community infused into Fern’s life before they’re drained away by her road-bound existence.

And yet, even there, she has a certain peace away from the hustle and bustle of mainstream existence, one we learn she eschews by choice. That’s the striking turn in the second half -- learning that Fern is not wholly a nomad by necessity, with opportunities to settle down with new friends and old family. But her eccentricity, her courage, keeps her more comfortable drifting from place to place than putting down stakes again.

Ultimately, the film ties that to the loss of her husband and, eventually, the loss of the town where they made their home. It’s an irrevocable sort of grief, one that keeps Fern at a certain distance even from those who would welcome here, for fear that laying down roots again would be a betrayal to his memory, a wiping away of what he meant and the life they built together to try to replace in with anything half as sweet or stable. As time marches on, Fern seems to find some peace in this too, in the sense that all those lost souls will be met again a little on down the road, and it keeps her moving.

There is something irrepressibly timely about that tack. *Nomadland* does not shy away from the economic circumstances and uphill climb that leave so many straining to keep a foothold in the ever-shifting terrain of subsistence and prosperity. At the same time, it leans into a communal loneliness founded on loss, cut only by the warmth of the dribs and drabs of human connection that fade in and out of one’s life. It’s a message that is, like Fern herself, made for all seasons.

It says so much that these nomads, who have chosen to commit to this life of freedom, do so with so little. While those who have stripped them of their livelihoods carelessly enjoy the horrors of excess, a single plate or a tyre full of air become objects to treasure. The purpose of life is not in what we physically possess but what we possess in our hearts, the people we see and the sights we see. The indescribable magic of Chloé Zhao's work is that it speaks both to the pain and the glory of being alive, not in some imagined way but in its actuality. 'Nomadland' is an extraordinary film from an extraordinary artist with extraordinary stories to tell, and you can't help but feel that same call of the open road and the vastness of the sky, to leave the chaos and confusion of the modern world behind and be one with the world, both the one around us and the world within us. Being alive can break your heart, but my god, it can also be so beautiful.
- Daniel Lammin

Read Daniel's full article...
https://www.maketheswitch.com.au/article/review-nomadland-the-extraordinary-chloe-zhao-delivers-another-american-classic

I wanted to like this so badly, but I couldn't quite get there. I have to stop going into movies with high expectations. I was waiting to be blown away but _Nomadland_ is just not a good movie.

Were the characters interesting, the lack of plot could be justified. But I wasn't invested with Fern’s journey at all. She is abrasive with zero personality. Chloé Zhao has nothing interesting to say about the reality she portrays. That’s why most of the movie is just long shot of van driving with the same dramatic piano playing. It’s basically a cycle of Fern chatting, being outcast, and traveling while she displays the exact same expression. There's no character study. Not to come off as someone lacking empathy but I simply couldn’t care less about people in this movie. Thus I found the topic of _Nomadland_ to be incredibly purposeless. It's because of the way Americans talk about themselves. Like, _“even the poor in America are much better off then the average person in most other countries around the world.”_ So, does that mean Americans can't be poor? Then how the hell am I supposed to feel sorry for Fern?!

Since the film dances around questions of economic struggle, we are left with the familiar tired message of most indie movies - _~leave all your possessions behind to be fReEeE, connect with nature~_. For some reason, the poor are more _“close to Earth”_ than other people and their hardship is just part of their spiritual journey to self enlightenment. And of course, there's no threats living that lifestyle, everyone is so nice. One would think the poor fight the poor for survival, so I expected people around those parts to be dangerous but no, it seems like the nomads community is just super nice.

The movie is so superficial. For Chloé Zhao it’s totally enough to showcase what it's like to live in poverty by letting some poor people speak for a couple of minutes. She never explores why they are in these situations or the societal factors that put them there in the first place. The book _Nomadland_ is based on is very critical of Amazon's labor practices, so it is very weird to see people defending the depiction of Amazon in the film, which is not as 'apolitical' as the movie and Chloé Zhao are acting like it is. Fern always finds jobs but we never see her spending any money and yet somehow she has not enough to fix her van. How does that make sense? Maybe it was explained later in the movie (because I didn’t finish watching it)?

This movie is a whole lot of nothing. No story, character development, action or climax. The cinematography was nice every once in a while but not Oscar-worthy in the slightest. There's a reason the term Oscar Bait exists. These types of films are incredibly successful because they are an American liberal’s dream. And _Nomadland_ is just the typical _~artistic portrait of poverty as a beautiful struggle devoid of any real political messaging~_ Hollywood movie. I really can’t understand why people are parsing the film’s lack of anger toward capitalism. The movie is very neutral. I guess it was made for the same people who were acting as if they beat fascism buy electing a president who says how _“nothing would fundamentally change.”_ The meager crumbs Americans float as "progress".

One last thing, having Frances McDormand and David Strathairn _acting_ among people playing fictionalised versions of themselves is jarring. I don’t understand the ‘woke police’. Had McDormand’s characters be trans, Twitter would have been on fire. So, it’s okay to pretend you’re poor but not trans? The ‘woke’ people are shockingly selective of their outrage and it’s an issue I have with this era of ‘woke activism’.

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As of this article's date, Nomadland has already received countless nominations for basically every ceremony that honors movies in some shape or form. This includes Chloé Zao (The Rider, Songs My Brothers Taught Me), who has also been nominated for the director and screenplay categories, gaining tremendous support from the film community since female directors are rarely recognized for their magnificent work - Emerald Fennell (Promising Young Woman) and Regina King (One Night in Miami) are also in the game this year. Despite never watching the two previous movies of Zao's career, I did know about her filmmaking style being very connected to reality and authenticity, not letting the typical Hollywood-isms impact her vision.

If there's something that definitely proves her remarkable commitment to achieve that realism is the hiring of non-actors to participate in her films. Throughout Nomadland, several *real people* tell their story, explaining why they became real-life nomads and offering an enriching, inspirational perspective of life. This is, by far, the most captivating, emotionally compelling aspect of the movie. Learning who these people are and what drives them is incredibly enlightening, shattering wrong, terrible stereotypes that should have no place in our world. With so many outstanding deliveries from the non-actors, I'm absolutely sure some of the interactions between Frances McDormand's character and the real-life nomads are unscripted.

In fact, there's a clear documentary style associated with this film. From Joshua James Richards' on-the-ground, gorgeous cinematography to the well-structured editing work (also done by Zao), the narrative holds a superficially uneventful, observant storytelling that many viewers will find tiresome and boring, which is completely understandable. It's hard to deny that the screenplay is pretty much based on following McDormand in an RV through the American West, watching her meet new people, working in a couple of different jobs, and that's really it. If people go into this movie expecting mind-blowing developments and Earth-shaking revelations, all will leave extremely disappointed.

It's a slow-paced, somewhat repetitive film told through Zao's unique vision, which is the key aspect that makes this movie work so well. Her astonishing dedication to delivering such a grounded depiction of a particular lifestyle elevates the overall piece. Technically, I already addressed that the film is beautifully shot, but Ludovico Einaudi's score is tear-inducing on its own. With heartfelt piano tracks, Einaudi's music plays during the most stunning landscapes, helping those moments to induce the viewers to enter an introspection-like state of mind. Zao's screenplay is packed with underlying themes, but the diverse, impactful views on what it means to live and how to deal with grief and personal traumas grabbed my attention the most.

Despite all that I wrote above, Nomadland is highly performance-driven. Frances McDormand carries this movie with yet another powerful display to add to her already impressive career. Her reactions in every single conversation that she has with the non-actors seem to come from McDormand herself and not from her character, Fern. Speaking of her, Fern is an amazingly likable character, the absolute definition of what it means to be a good person. Following such a protagonist makes the extremely long journey a bit lighter. Every non-actor is absolutely perfect. I have nothing but overwhelming respect for them and the life they chose to live.

I don't expect the general public to love this film, but I'd love to see the viewers trying to figure out what makes it so special. Many spectators will finish their viewing and think this is just another "technical feature" that only gets praises from critics. I sincerely wish that viewers would ask themselves why they didn't enjoy a movie as much as other people and research about it. Learn about what makes the film so inspiring and such great storytelling. Yes, it's heavily philosophical, its pacing could have been better controlled, and it doesn't really have massive surprises or significant events. But if it possesses a lot more than what it's at the surface, then investigate, read a little bit about what went into creating this movie, and maybe - just maybe - it will become a more enjoyable watch.

Nomadland offers a contemplative, enlightening, touching story about a nomad's life, starring real-life people that make this film much more special. Chloé Zao's unique, passionate vision and her outstanding dedication to authenticity are more than enough characteristics deserving of dozens of nominations. Gorgeous cinematography and a lovely score tremendously elevate the movie, creating the perfect atmosphere for thoughtful storytelling. Some pacing issues and an uneventful narrative based heavily on merely accompanying the protagonist through her journey negatively affect the film's overall enjoyment, which will definitely leave some viewers disappointed. Frances McDormand carries the movie on her shoulders with another commanding performance to add to her remarkable career. However, the spotlight goes to the real-life nomads who participated in this beautiful project, sharing personal stories filled with valuable perspectives on so many themes related to life and ways of living it. A worthy contender for the awards season.

Rating: B+