Nomadland — Dystopian Burning Man for Nomadic Pensioners

In Nomadland, filmmaker Chloé Zhao takes you on a road trip through Western America. The drive through deserts and mountains acts as a backdrop for illustrating the social and economic issues of the country. Zhao wrote, directed, produced and edited this movie as a female-led fiction/ documentary hybrid. A film that was clearly intended for the big screen, with all of its awesome wide-angle landscape shots, full of detail and colour, which are accompanied by a beautiful score by Ludovico Enaudi. The star is Frances McDormand, who plays Fern, a widow who drives her van through America.

The film shines through its well-developed characters. Fern’s personality displays a deep richness, she even has mysterious character traits, that only peak through sporadically. It is a truly layered personality, which makes her interesting and real. Seeing this movie feels like meeting Fern as a new friend. She is strong, stubborn and also cute and dorky. At times, she recites poems, at others she chases someone with a dirty pair of underwear.

Still, we rarely see the goofy Fern that is light and joyful. Mainly we see the sombre Fern in her tough shell. An armour she had to develop for protection because, like most characters in this movie, she has left a big part of that joyful life behind. A life that once involved a loving partner and purposeful work, but that was no longer possible. The movie does not really concern itself with the reasons behind that, what matters is the shell, which guards those memories, so Fern could get in her van and move on. That is the Fern we meet, and that is what the film portrays: A woman, who has chosen a nomadic life because she could not stay in a place, that was only a shadow of what it used to be. What worth is stability, if it only contains an echo of its former glory?

Of course, this theme of moving on from a broken situation is not chosen arbitrarily. Chloé Zhao weaves a subtle connection to a broken welfare state and pension system in the United States. Most characters in the film, the Nomads, belong to the older generation. They tell tales of having worked their whole life, from the age of 14 until retirement, and yet they don’t get enough pension to live anywhere but in a van. They need to keep working lowly, hard labor, have temporary jobs in fast food or cleaning, just to get by. Even if there were proper jobs on the market, nobody wants to hire a pensioner. When Fern’s van breaks, she has to borrow money from her sister because she doesn’t have any savings. Through painting an intimate portrait of Fern and the other nomads, the film illustrates how and why a broken pension system, combined with ageism, forces people to leave their former lives behind, literally move on from it, in vans, campers and caravans.

Yet, the film chooses to see the beauty and hope within this hardship. This is not a film about depressed grandmas. It is a film about choosing freedom and independence, over getting stuck in poverty and misery. A truly American choice, as Fern’s sister remarks. Yes, they have left something or someone behind, but they have chosen to do that, accepting a nomadic life for the merit of freedom and independence.

This film also lives and breathes this theme of freedom through the visual storytelling, that gives it an undefined type of presence. We never really know where Fern is. She is always on the move, from deserts to mountains, to the ocean — yet the location is never defined and subject to constant change. We find her in parking lots, trailer parks and on campgrounds, without ever really knowing when or why she got there and how long it has been. When Fern drives off a nondescript parking spot, we have never been prepared to suddenly depart and move on. This pacing sets the film in a nirvana of time and space, giving us a feeling of living in the present, living day to day, not bound by place or time, ever moving. This limbo conveys Fern’s freedom of movement quite beautifully. For this freedom, she will always choose her van over a guest room.

This choice is further influenced by the loving, caring and welcoming characters of the nomad community. They share meals, sing around a fireplace, exchange goods and teach each other how to fix tires. At times, their gatherings feel like a big summer camp of close-knit friends, like Burning Man for nomadic pensioners. The film focuses on how the nomad community is full of helpful hands, compassionate listeners who always have a free seat by the campfire. It is a hopeful story of people who are helping each other because nobody else would. At times, the film even suggests that Nomads are a more noble, solidary and worthwhile crowd than the people in the real world.

Here is where this beautiful tale full of depth, subtext and endearing characters reaches its limits. What is missing in those tales of happy campers is diversity. The campers are all old, white Americans. It seems too clean of an image, too one-sided. Where are the people of color in this nomadic community? Where are the African American campers or the immigrant campers? Is the nomad community really free of judgement, racism and ignorance? What about Native Americans, who were the original nomads of the land? Surely, white Americans are not the only ones affected by a broken welfare state and pensioners’ poverty.

A lack of awareness is not the problem: the movie compares the Nomads to early American pioneers and settlers, so history and context are present but racial issues and Native American issues are neglected. This blind spot intensifies when considering that Zhao studied political science at a US university and should be aware of these topics. Since she wrote, directed, produced and edited this film, her very narrow scope appears to be a choice. For a film that wants to examine social issues through realistic storytelling and well developed, relatable characters, some more depth and diversity within the cast would have been appropriate.

This blind spot does not taint the joy on a first visit. Viewers will marvel at the scenery, fall in love with Frances McDormand’s portrayal of Fern and be fixed to the screen by an engaging, worthwhile plot. On a second viewing however, the initial awe of the film’s realism and relatability will likely give in to the lack of depth and diversity in its core. It is still a worthwhile watch because Zhao is masterfully creating an atmosphere, a feeling through visual poetry.

Still, it’s better not to look for too much under the hood of this magnificent road trip.