Nomadland is a meandering and listless tribute to America’s nomadic citizens

Despite being nominated for best picture at the Oscars, Nomadland runs too slow to entertain and fails to deliver meaningful insight into American poverty

As in every year, there is one film that is collectively declared the awards favourite by the cinematic community. From the moment Chloe Zhao’s Nomadland (2020) secured the Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival, its reign over the awards season was cemented as it has since won big at the Golden Globes, The Hollywood Critics Association, and at the BAFTA’s. Most recently it has secured the all-important best picture nomination at the Oscars. It’s achieved a reputation as a must-see film that casual viewers will not want to miss out on.

Like we are seeing with Nomadland right now, many films have taken control of the awards narrative, such as Green Book (2018), Crash (2005), and The English Patient (1996). The largest commonality Nomadland shares with these three films is that it too will be immediately forgotten, even if it wins big at the Oscars.

This is because Nomadland is the worst type of awards season favourite. While it contains skillful cinematography, solid acting, and an overarching commentary on American social ills through the lens of an unsung subculture, it fails to create an experience that is memorable, engaging, and rewarding, neglecting the basic tenets of what makes the cinematic medium worthy of our attention. Let’s jump into the film and examine why this is.

After losing everything in the great recession, Fern (Frances Mcdormand) becomes a modern-day nomad, traveling across the American west in her live-in van and meeting interesting people who describe their experiences in ways which allow her to view the American way of life with a new perspective.

It’s very simple to understand why this story appeals to the Academy — it cloaks itself with a robe that reads ‘poetry in poverty.’

Firstly, it’s very simple to understand why this story appeals to the Academy — it cloaks itself with a robe that reads ‘poetry in poverty.’ The film begins with promise by showcasing the nitty gritty of this nomad subculture. It sparks curiosity in the viewer to further understand this way of life. However, Zhao’s writing and direction become meandering as it quickly becomes clear that the film’s focus rests on repeating the same beats. Instead of creating emotion through rewarding character growth, Zhao opts to focus on documentary-like faux interviews that blandly describe the turmoil and hardships American nomads must endure. It is a story that never attempts to become anything else other than a surface level showcase of the camper life, so much so that it stays on the same level from its first frame to its last, as if stuck on neutral.

These issues are heightened by the film’s painfully lethargic pace. A slow pace in itself is never a negative — when used correctly, it can envelop the audience into the film’s world, creating a sense of time and place that is wholly palpable and resulting in characters that are much more impactful and notable. When this is accomplished, a three-hour film won’t ever feel like one. In Nomadland’s case, it runs just below two yet it feels like five. This issue is a result of the meandering script and the lack of character growth, which creates an unfocused and unentertaining experience that doesn’t comment on modern poverty in America in an interesting or captivating way.

Beyond its breathtaking cinematography, which captures the American landscape with calm painterly-like brush strokes that comment on the beauty of this nomadic lifestyle, the film’s technical aspects leave much to be desired.

The biggest culprit is its rudimentary score, which recycles every sentimental piano score that you’ve heard before. This might garner the viewer the odd cheap tear, but it’s not enough to create lasting emotional resonance.

To be fair, the film brings forward sturdy performances from McDormand and David Strathairn as nomadic vagabonds who long for peace and happiness. The film’s muddled script also provides quirky moments as interesting one-off characters pop in, making not only its languid pace go down smoother but its commentary on the unsung nomadic lifestyle almost entertaining.

Yet, as the film progresses, the luster of these characters soon fade away, allowing the painfully pretentious script to return us to boredom.

Nomadland is a film that, like every other member of the film community, I wanted to love as it would possibly provide a unique and timely angle on modern American poverty just as many people in North America are dealing with social and economic loss as a result of the ongoing pandemic. However, it just doesn’t offer an experience that is memorable or entertaining, which is the greatest cardinal sin of cinema.

Nomadland will go down as a film casual viewers will watch in an attempt to ready themselves for the Oscars in April, but whose longevity and relevance won’t last much longer after the first roll of its credits.

In Canada, Nomadland begins streaming on Disney+ on April 9th.

A version of this article appeared in print in The Ontarion issue 190.4 on March 25, 2021.

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