Directed by Chloé Zhao
Written for the screen by Chloé Zhao, based on the book by Jessica Bruder
Starring Frances McDormand, David Strathaim, and Linda May
Running time 1 hour and 48 minutes
Available to watch in select theaters and exclusively on Hulu February 19 

by Rosalie Kicks Editor in Chief, Old Sport 

“I didn’t want my sailboat out in the driveway when I died.”

I often worry about death.

Before anyone gets concerned… Yes, I am in therapy. It may come as a surprise but even with my sleepless nights, I have been informed that I am thriving in quarantine. This is not exactly an exaggeration either, despite missing my friends and family, I don’t particularly mind being stuck at home. Home is safe. It is where all my magical creatures, movies and things are. It is where I am most free. Even prior to the pandemic, I worried about my demise, so this is nothing new. The feeling of time slipping away. The feeling that my life will be unfilled. The feeling of regret.

In Chloé Zhao’s exquisite third feature film, Nomadland, the fifties-something Fern (Frances McDormand) finds herself living the van life. After a sheetrock company in her small town of Nevada shut down, she is without work and a conventional home. Fern finds shelter on four wheels and makes ends meet by working seasonal gigs at places such as Amazon and trailer park campgrounds. 

With the breathtakingly stunning cinematography and magnificent score, I often found myself forgetting that this story is in fact heartbreaking. For me, the tale paints a picture of a dying America. Amongst the purple mountain majesties, amber waves of grain and oh so beautiful spacious skies there is an incredible amount of human suffering. America is a bewitching place that puts one under a spell while committing a lot of ugly acts.

Being on the road, Fern comes to join a community of other nomads. Each has their own version of misfortune, tragedy or self-awakening that has brought them to this way of life. For some, it is lack of work, absence of a safety net or dread. There’s a scene that hit me particularly hard and played on my biggest fear that I revealed earlier. A person describes that the reason they chose to embark on this lifestyle was, after witnessing a fellow coworker in her office prepare for retirement after twenty some odd years of working, come to learn they had a terminal illness. The woman finishes the story by humbly saying, “I didn’t want my sailboat out in the driveway when I died.” 

There is this conception in America that to live a great life is to live the biggest, most grandiose one with a whole lotta stuff. What “the man” does not tell you is, that to have those fancy cars, mansions and an abundance of things, you give up your freedom. You lose control of your life and become the property of the bank, corporation and, in essence, the mighty dollar. As I learned more of Fern’s story, I was filled with incredible amounts of sorrow. Fern losing her house was only part of her autobiography. There was also the loss of her husband to cancer, which caused her to lose her job after needing the time to care for him. Her years of going without work, along with her age, puts her at a disadvantage for finding decent employment.

The jobs she does manage to find, like working in distribution for Amazon are extremely physical. With it being temp work, it made me ponder how she will care for her aging body with a lack of healthcare. For Fern, she lives each day on the brink of homelesness, all it will take is a minor setback to cost her everything. Much of what she is seeking: safety, comfort, nourishment and health are things within our current world that are seen as luxuries rather than a right for every human being. 

This picture may not have given me a warm and fuzzy feeling, but it did make me question my own choices in life. As a person that closely worked with my grandparents and assisted them with their  produce business, I witnessed a life that I did not want, working until I die. My grandparents are no longer with me, maybe this is all they ever wanted and that farmers market venture made them feel complete. For me, I promised that I would not end up like that. I want ownership over my life and do not want a silly dayjob to define my existence or take it away from me for that matter. As much as I realize that one can’t be completely free, I want to come pretty darn close and not forget they can’t take everything from me. Sure, they can take my house, shut off my electricity when I don’t pay the bills, but they can’t take my creativity–they can’t take my identity.