Jottings - Slice of life - 443 ( Nomadland - Director Chloe Zhao’s rich, meaningful, and visually beautiful meditation on life. Nominated in six categories for the 2021 Academy awards)
( Note - Keeping in mind the possibility that readers may not have seen this movie yet, I have deliberately avoided writing too much about the story, except for laying out the bare contours required to set the context of this essay)
The word Nomad is derived from the Greek root “Nomas” — a wandering shepherd, someone who lives their life in seasonal patterns, never grazing the same pasture, but moving on in search of fresh verdure, meaning, and sustenance. To a nomad, life is not a destination, but a ceaseless journey without any permanent possessions, except the bare minimum to live. In Indian religious literature, there is an equivalent, and more beautiful sounding word, to describe this fluid state of living. It is “Parivrajaka” — the wandering ascetic mendicant; the bird that is ever on the move, never tarrying anywhere beyond what is absolutely necessary and essential. In modern times, the term nomadic has assumed slightly negative connotations. It has come to indicative a vagabond lifestyle with no sense of purpose or direction. But that is not the original intent of the term. To be a nomad means to live alone, to live courageously trusting in life's blessings to provide what is required, and above all, a nomad is one who is stuck neither in the emotional demands of a man-made society nor in its acquisitive propensities. America was founded by pilgrims - nomads, in fact, people who wandered across the vast continent reveling in its beauty and enjoy the freedom of living as one wished. Even today, there is a nomadic tradition prevalent in America. You can see them in their trailers, parked on nearby wooded spaces, with a few collapsible chairs spread around. The troubling thing though is that, in recent years with automation taking over, and now the pandemic, more and more people are taking to the road, embracing the nomadic tradition, not because of the freedom it affords or the life-enriching experiences it provides, but because they have lost everything - emotionally, spiritually and economically - and therefore forced to live on the road as an escape, not as a life-affirming experience.
The film “Nomadland" nominated for the Oscars this year is a powerful and sensitive meditation on the process of nomadic life. Fern, brilliantly played by the veteran actor Frances McDormand, hits the road after her husband dies and the county she lived in( Empire) for many years disappears from the map due to economic reasons. Fern decides to live a life of fierce independence, fueled by a sense of detachment and the urge to live unencumbered by the bonds of society. She becomes a nomad, in the sense, she decides to live her life in a van, moving from place to place, finding work wherever she can, meeting people on the way, and parting without abiding goodbyes. Just as a drop of water dances on a rose petal without any intention of sticking to it, Fern touches the world with the tips of her being without getting sucked into its emotional and material vortex.
Without revealing too much of the movie, there is a point early in the film, when Fern accidentally bumps into a family she knows. The mother casually enquires about Fern's wellbeing, and then her young daughter ( whom Fern has tutored in the past), asks an innocent question “ I heard you are homeless, is that true?”. Fern pauses for a few seconds, looks into the eyes of the girl, and answers “ I am houseless, not homeless”. This sums up the essence of the movie. Nomadland is an adaptation of Jessica Bruder’s 2017 best-selling non-fictional work by the same name. I haven’t read the book, only read reviews and excerpts from it. Jessica spent time researching the cult of people, especially aged, who drift across the vast continent of America in their vans, congregating every now and then, in the arid deserts and grasslands of this beautiful country, exchanging notes and things, mourning the loss of those who couldn’t make it, spending some time partying, and then drifting away again in pursuit of their dream of living close to nature.
The young thirty-eight-year Chinese-born female director Chloé Zhao has done a wonderful job recreating the essence of the book. Nomadland is Chloe’s third film, and she is the director, writer, producer, and editor. Except for Frances McDormand and David Straitham, the other actors in the movie are the actual nomads themselves interviewed for the book. They simply live their lives on screen with ease and grace. Visualizing the life of a modern American Nomad through the eyes of Fern imparts the fictional glue to what is essentially a non-fictional, real story. Chloe’s camera soothingly works and blends with the enchanting violet dusks of the deserts of Arizona, the bleak winters of Nevada, the mechanical interiors of an Amazon warehouse, the lush streams that gurgle through the wet grasslands, and unfailingly capture every nuance of Frances McDormand's brilliant portrayal of Fern - a role that is likely to win her an Oscar nod once again.
In her illustrious career as an actor spanning decades, Frances has acted as a free-spirited mom, a strict mother, an abused wife, a boozing adulteress, Mousy governess, and many more memorable roles, including her epic reprisal on the stage of Stella in Tennessee Williams’s forceful drama “ A streetcar named desire”. Her ability to portray realistic depictions of any character given, her effortless acting style, and the range of emotions she manages to evoke, make Frances one of the finest actors of this generation, in the same league as Meryl Streep.
If you get to watch this movie, it is worth listening closely to the enchanting music tracks by the great Italian pianist-composer Ludovico Einaudi. I heard Einaudi’s music for the first time, almost accidentally on Spotify, when the first track of “Seven days walking” was released on 15th March 2019. I still remember how transfixed I was with the crystalline melancholy and haunting melody of that track. It remains one of my favorite tracks I listen to almost every day. The seven days walking is the musical expression of Einaudi walking along the Alps. Each piece evokes a particular sensation — of warmth, brightness, movement, and silence. If you are a music lover, then this could be your chance to experience the transcendental notes of Einaudi. As the editor of the Movie, Director Zhao chose (wisely) to use the recorded tracks of seven-day walking and Ludovico’s other works, as the only musical accompaniment to her own visual meditation on screen. It blends beautifully with the frames and the atmosphere of the film. Unfortunately, the Academy wouldn’t accept Ludovico’s work for an Oscar nomination, because the music wasn’t recorded solely for the movie. But that doesn’t take away anything from the mesmerizing and breathtaking musical background that punctuates some of the finest camera work in recent times.
After watching Nomadland, the sensitive viewer is bound to ask the question: Does Fern really like being a nomad, or is she merely escaping from her own inability to come to grips with her grief and restlessness? This is a good question to think about. There are moments in the movie when Fern does seem vulnerable and aches to be a part of society, but something within revolts and she takes flight again. She attempts to gain peace and tranquillity through physical movement and displacement from one place to another. She loves nature. She likes the feel of howling winds, the splash of waves on her skin, and witness the sublime colors of twilight. She loves to float with selfless abandon on a clear stream of water, naked and alone, without the prying eyes of civilization. She loves the independence of her small van, self-contained, but full of personal memories, right from the makeshift desk that she builds to the crockery she uses. She has encapsulated herself in a cocoon of her past experiences and fears any leak from it, and equally, fears any new additions to it. In short, is this really freedom? Or is it a form of escapism? The state of Parivrajaka I noted in the first paragraph is quite contrary to Fern’s condition of compulsive flight. In the former case, the physical displacement is just an extension of a way of life, it is not the essence of it. It is true that travel and movement impart a breadth and depth to one's life, and to that extent, nomadic life is justifiable. But when such a life is undertaken to shrink away from everything around, then the essence is lost.
Nomadland can turn out to be a boring movie to many, because there are no significant twists and turns in the plot, except Fern moving from one place to another, and a lot of personal conversations and accidental meetings between people. But for those, who look at art as a reflection on the deeper questions of life, every frame, each moment of silence in-between the frames, sizzle with tremendous significance. The movie provokes and challenges what we take for granted. Watching Nomadland is like reading a book, it is immersive and takes hold of one whole being and forces us to look at life through the lens of Fern - a character who feels alienated in a world that is becoming dehumanized by the day, and who finds refuge in the primal lap of nature.
For a few moments after the film credits scroll over, one feels like packing the essentials and driving off. That urge momentarily feels good, before our accepted sense of reality, security and comfort kick in. The veil of Maya-as the ancient wise men said millenniums ago - covers our perception, and life goes on as usual.
Nomadland is currently showing on Hulu. That's where I watched it.
God bless...
Yours in mortality,
Bala
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