Having Lost Everything, a Woman Finds a New Life on the Road

Frances McDormand in "Nomadland"
Photo Credit: RottenTomatoes.com

Over the last few years, Chloé Zhao has become a filmmaker who champions the exploration of people and regions in the American Midwest.  Her 2015 debut feature, “Songs My Brothers Taught Me,” focused on a Native American brother and sister living on a reservation in South Dakota, and her 2017 film, “The Rider,” took her back to South Dakota and told the story of a Native American rodeo star on the rise.  In these films, Zhao showed the tremendous detail in both the places themselves and the citizens who inhabit those communities, carrying us into the daily lives of the characters and offering a richness of authenticity.

Zhao goes back to the Midwest for her new film, “Nomadland,” where she finds another story to tell in which she takes us on the road.  Here, she not only has us marvel at the beauty and freedom to roam that America’s vast landscapes have to offer, but to invite us into a lifestyle that’s rarely seen on film, all in a narrative that’s based on a stunning true story.

In 2011, Fern (Frances McDormand) loses her job at the US Gypsum plant in Empire, Nevada, where she worked with her husband, who has since passed away.  Without anything to keep her back, she decides to travel through the Midwest in her van and start life anew as a nomad.

McDormand provides a deep, meditative performance of someone who’s trying to make it on her own in the wide-open terrain of the country.  While McDormand shows the sense of freedom that her character experiences, there’s also the melancholiness of losing what she has loved.  McDormand exhibits someone who’s both in the moment, but carries the beloved memories of the life that she had before.  She presents her character’s bravery of restarting her life out in the country, meeting new people, embracing new landscapes, and facing some unforgiving elements as she discovers a part of herself that she never knew was there.

Besides McDormand, the only other established actor in the cast is David Strathairn, who portrays David, one of the nomads whom Fern befriends.  Similar to Zhao’s previous two films, she uses a cast that’s comprised mostly of nonprofessional actors.  This use of non-professional actors brings to life the reality of the situations that she depicts.  In this film, she uses real-life nomads Linda May, Swankie, and Bob Wells, who all help Fern get the hang of their customs.  There’s a genuineness to their performances as they bring their van-dwelling experiences on screen, and they’re each given a chance to provide some depth to their characters as they explain to Fern what the nomadic lifestyle means to them.

The screenplay by Zhao, which is based on Jessica Bruder’s 2017 book, “Nomadland: Surviving America in the Twenty-First Century,” doesn’t use a lot of set-up into Fern’s time transitioning into a van dweller, which isn’t bad thing.  Instead, we meet her just as she’s ready to start traveling the roads, which allows for her journey to begin unfolding right away.  As Fern ventures from place to place, we’re offered a life-affirming view into the nomads who embrace a lifestyle that many would find difficult to pursue, but we see how great of a sense of community that they have and the abundance of care that they display for their fellow nomads.  This is a story about the nomads every bit as much as it is about Fern, and in between us becoming familiar with the lives of the nomads, we’re given insight into Fern’s life and are provided with details little by little that give us an idea of who she was before the events of the movie.

The cinematography by Joshua James Richards, who collaborated with Zhao on her other two films, once again captures the splendor or the Midwest.  The expansiveness of the surroundings is something that can fill Fern’s heart, and the way in which he absorbs us in the great outdoors helps create something that’s emotional, spiritual, and liberating.  A memorable sequence is a tracking shot of Fern walking through her first nomad camp as the sun sets in the background, creating a gorgeous dusk as we’re introduced deeper into the world of the nomads.

One of the most remarkable aspects of the movie is how a foreign director is able to show America with such lucidity.  Zhao, who was born in China, sees America with as clear of a view as she exemplified in her previous two films.  Just like “Songs My Brothers Taught Me” and “The Rider,” “Nomadland” is another contemplative story that provides the viewer with the opportunity for an eye-opening and emotional examination of the lives that Zhao follows through her cinematic, almost-documentarian eye.  She provides a tone that’s both elegiac in the life that Fern once lived, and celebratory in the new life that she builds.

Like all great road movies, “Nomadland” shows you that once you’ve traveled down one road, there are plenty of others on which to venture and reinvent yourself.

Grade: A

In Arkansas, an Immigrant Family Finds a Home and Follows a Dream

Han Ye-ri and Steven Yeun in "Minari"
Photo Credit: Imdb.com

The pursuit of the American dream has been one of the most significant narratives depicted in film.  Given the many different ways in which people have strived to achieve that dream, there are countless ways how you can approach this type of story.  One such way is through the eyes of immigrants.  This is done most recently with writer-director Lee Isaac Chung’s stunning and beautiful drama, “Minari,” a semi-autobiographical narrative that’s both inspiring and heartwarming.

The story follows a Korean immigrant family, including Jacob (Steven Yeun), his wife Monica (Han Ye-ri), their daughter Anne (Noel Kate Cho), and their son David (Alan Kim) as they start a new life in Arkansas in the 1980s.  Jacob soon decides to provide for his family by maintaining a farm, which will bring both rewards and hardships.

Yeun delivers powerful work as a father who does whatever he can to support his family.  He has his character show a determination that makes you feel the sweat that runs down his forehead as he works, while also showing a stoic persona that reinforces how he wishes to uphold a stern upbringing for his children to make sure that they stay on the right path.  Yeun shows an individual who presents a boundless love for his family, but also sometimes exhibits how his interest in his dreams might overshadow his family’s needs.  It’s these dueling aspects that make his character as intriguing as he is, making us wonder if the obsessiveness of his dream might be his downfall.

Ye-ri provides equally impactful work as Jacob’s wife.  She gives her character a strong feeling of uncertainty as she questions her husband’s choice to relocate their family.  While Jacob remains enthusiastic, Monica is much less so, and we begin to share her feeling of unease as she not only worries about their financial and living situations, but also how she and her family will be accepted into the community.  As Jacob tends to his garden, Ye-ri shows her character’s commitment to being a working mother while also taking care of her children, often trying to pick up the slack on the home front when Jacob isn’t there.  We see the stress that Monica feels, but Ye-ri is able balance that with the love that comes from the stress, showing a parent who knows what she has to do to care for her family.

Youn Yuh-jung is joyful and very funny as Monica’s mother, who comes to live them not long after they move in.  Yuh-jung is the source of many of the film’s laughs, depicting a grandmother who does what she can to brighten everyone’s day.  Yuh-jung exhibits a grandparent who shows unconditional love for her family, seeming like it’s impossible to upset her.  Whenever she’s onscreen, we feel the pressures of everyday life depicted in the movie melt away as we enjoy a reprieve to celebrate the elation that she brings.

Kim and Cho prove to be naturals as they portray their young characters who must navigate their unfamiliar surroundings and deal with the occasional heated fights between their parents.  In their new environment, they have to grow up a little quickly, with Anne trying to keep an eye on her younger brother, and David exhibiting a curiosity in his father’s work as he joins him from time to time on the farm.  These are performances that encapsulate what it’s like to be young and having to process a new way of life, while also having to place a lot of trust in your parents as they try to make everything work out. 

Chung’s screenplay is an enriching view into the immigrant experience, showing the family’s Korean culture, while also presenting a scenario that speaks to all families who’ve strived for a better life in America, be they immigrants or natural-born citizens.  Chung’s narrative gives plenty of focus to all of the characters, allowing us to see how each of them transitions into their new home.  This is a fully realized view of how this family interacts with an unfamiliar community, whether it be attending a new church, working at a new job, or making new friends, and such a multi-faceted story allows us to get to know the family in great detail.

There’s a deep compassion to how Chung depicts this family and their environment, particularly in the cinematography from Lachlan Milne, who presents several scenes in the sunlit fields, as well as the peacefulness of a nearby forest.  The way in which Milne frames the family against the expansiveness and beauty of these settings helps you to understand how Jacob and the others immerse themselves into their new home and surrounding nature, having us share that sense of discovery with them.  Just as gorgeous as the camerawork is the music from Emile Mosseri, who provided gorgeous work for 2019’s “The Last Black Man in San Francisco,” another movie about finding oneself in America.   

Through its depiction of intergenerational bonds and how they remain strong through moments of uncertainty and triumph, “Minari” isn’t just a story about one family, but a story of many families.

Grade: A

A Woman Faces Emptiness After an Unspeakable Loss

Vanessa Kirby and Ellen Burstyn in 
"Pieces of a Woman"
Photo Credit: RottenTomatoes.com

There have been countless movies that focus on motherhood, shedding light on the hardships and rewards that come with the undertaking of raising a child.  Even more heartbreaking are the stories that deal with parents suffering through the loss of a child, showing the intense grief that they feel in losing someone so young and so soon.  That’s what director Kornél Mundruczó does with the harrowing drama, “Pieces of a Woman,” a movie that shows how the power of motherhood never leaves, even after their child is gone.

Martha Weiss (Vanessa Kirby) and her partner, Sean (Shia LaBeouf), are preparing for the arrival of their first baby.  When the infant dies after complications with the home birth, Martha will face the effects of this unfathomable tragedy and deal with the emotional distance that grows between her, Sean, and her family.

Kirby offers a devastating performance as a woman trying to navigate her life after her loss, as well as showing the strength that’s needed for bringing someone into the world.  For the latter, Kirby does everything that she can to make you feel the physical strenuousness that her character experiences as she prepares to give birth, with heavy breathing and exclamations of pain as she tries to deliver her baby.  Afterwards, her acting is required to be more on the subdued side, but is just as soul-stirring.  Here, the expressiveness of her eyes and face as she seems to just drift through her life in the weeks after giving birth shows Martha’s numbness, someone who looks as though she might never be happy again.  Then, when it comes time for Martha to testify at the trial of her midwife, Kirby shows the difficulty that it takes her character to recount what she went through on that tragic night, but leaves you hoping that she’ll find some sort of closure.

LaBeouf is terrific as Sean, a character who’s trying to deal with the loss of his child and maintain a connection to Martha, who keeps growing distant.  While Martha always seems closed off, LaBeouf presents Sean as someone who has more of an outward and volatile personality when it comes to expressing his grief.  This leaves us tense as we wait to see how he will move forward during this ordeal, and LaBeouf shows a vivid portrait of how someone can express their grief differently from someone else, despite sharing the same tragedy with that person.

Ellen Burstyn provides beautiful work as Martha’s mother.  She presents a parent who wants the best for her daughter and to see her receive justice, often butting heads with Martha as they disagree on how to proceed.  Burstyn’s work is effectively understated for most of the movie, but she’s given a searing monologue near the final third of the movie when she explains why she wants her daughter to attend the midwife’s trial.  This scene hits as hard as anything else in the movie and is a moment when we understand her character’s well-meaning intrusiveness, showing a mother who views this situation through her own tragic past.

The screenplay by Kata Wéber is at its strongest in the first half hour.  But, despite the rest of the movie not quite reaching the heavy poignancy of that part of the movie, it still manages to make you feel the magnitude of the aftermath and what the characters are experiencing.  Following the birthing sequence, the movie is an exploration of Martha’s grief and how she processes the world around her in the days that seem to blur together.  This portion of the narrative has Martha going through several different settings, be it something as saddening as looking for a headstone, or a pastime like jogging or spending time at a dance club.  However, no matter what Martha does in her day-to-day life, there’s always the sense of emotional trauma that permeates her life, and Wéber’s narrative provides us with a vivid view of what Marth’s experiencing and shows how difficult it is to live through the unbearable anguish of losing her baby.

The cinematography Benjamin Loeb is the film’s most noteworthy technical aspect, and that’s because of a birthing sequence that’s shot and edited to look like a 20-minute long take that takes place within the first half hour of the movie.  As we experience this scene in real time, it has an emotionally exhausting effect on the viewer, navigating us through the physically draining task of giving birth, and then the heart-wrenching realization of what has happened.

Mundruczó never fails to lose the sense of loss that diffuses through the film.  Every scene after the opening half hour provides us with the feeling of Martha’s loss and emptiness that never seems like it will go away.  The atmosphere of devastation that Mundruczó builds brings us right into Martha’s state of mind as we take this journey with her and try to remain hopeful that she will find a way to emerge from the wreckage of this unforeseen tragedy.

As we go through Martha’s emotional odyssey, “Pieces of a Woman” solidifies itself as a movie that shows how even someone at their most broken can be made whole again.

Grade: A-