Chloe Zhao
Nomadland

"Go see this film on the largest screen possible". This was, in summary, what Frances McDormand said a few days ago while accepting the Oscar for Best Actress for the film "Nomadland". And certainly, as much as one gets used to watching films streaming on a computer or smartphone screen, watching a film in a cinema remains the best possible experience as it is much more engaging (many like me grew up attending art-house cinemas.)

And heeding such an invitation, after months of cinema closures due to the pandemic, I was able to fully appreciate the film "Nomadland", a work by a Chinese-born director (Chloe Zhao, whose existence I was unaware of) who lives and works in the United States.

The plot centers on a woman named Fern, now in her sixties, who, following the Great Recession caused by the American subprime mortgage crisis that erupted between 2008 and 2009, after losing her husband first and then her job, finds herself forced to radically change her life. And we witness perils that are still heavy and painful, not only because at her age finding stable work is difficult (in the USA it is no different than in our parts..) and one has to settle for temporary jobs in various contexts (factory work at Amazon, cafeteria worker in dining venues, cleaning staff at campsites and so on), but also because the wages earned do not allow one to afford to live in rented accommodation (much less to buy) an apartment. And therefore, the protagonist has no choice but to lodge in a traveling house, namely a van that, one can imagine, is not the best of life, especially if traveling across the vast yankees spaces where in case of vehicle damage you find yourself in complete discomfort.

Despite all this, Fern, traveling in the western part of the USA, has the chance to meet many people who, like her, have had to adapt to the vicissitudes of fate and live as modern nomads. In what, as the film's title suggests, is a Nomadland, it’s possible to encounter communities of people who have created small alternative tribes (perhaps echoing the old hippie spirit) dedicated to mutual aid. It is precisely that humanity for which the term "forgotten people" has recently been coined, meaning those excluded from the magnificent progressive fates of globalization (and nevertheless deluded if among them Trumpian populism, entirely ineffective, took hold). But Fern, in all this wandering, retains her dignity intact, opting to remain as autonomous as possible, pursuing an independent lifestyle, in contact with nature (which in the American landscape is simply imposing compared to the individual), without being manipulated.

It thus highlights a portrait of a strong woman, not forgetful of what beauty life has reserved for her in the past: a deeply loved husband, with whom she lived unforgettable years in a small Nevada village, surrounded by vast mountain ranges. And all these memories allow her to give the right value to what she is experiencing in a nomadic and substantially gray present.

A film therefore commendable not only for Frances McDormand's well-known acting qualities (already seen in many other films) and Chloe Zhao's meticulous direction, inclined to highlight the psychological side of various characters, but also for a raw representation of the contradictions of the American way of life. Precisely in the richest nation on Earth, alongside many well-off individuals, millions of people who have lost economic security coexist. As everyone had believed the American dream would be eternal, but they had a rude awakening and now wander the vast yankees spaces. What else to say about them but modern heirs to the spirit of American pioneering: they are but the poor derelicts of the social ladder, the same who animate the picture of life portrayed in Tom Waits' song lyrics. Truly a cursed life.