Chloe Zhao's Nomadland Highlights the Potential (And Limits) of the American Anti-Capitalist Film
Believe it or not, 2020 was an excellent year in American cinema. What perhaps excites me most about film in the year 2020 was its collective rejection of certain American values that had been retreaded and reinforced ad nauseum throughout the history of the nation's cinema. In 2020, directors almost unanimously agreed that the United States' emphasis on work is killing us, that we needed to see beyond the narrow labels we have assigned ourselves. This theme manifested itself most prominently in Pixar's Soul, much to my chagrin. Fortunately, however, 2020 has offered much more intimate and authentic explorations of American careerism. In fact, Nomadland, perhaps the most American film of the year, also doubles as the most stunning rebuke of American capitalism. It is the rare American film to flat-out reject capitalism, to hold a mirror up to the nation's crippling economic system and say "look at this bullshit!"
For this reason alone, Nomadland is essential. For many other reasons, it is an excellent, worthwhile film. Its cinematography is sumptuous, capturing the gorgeous vistas of the American West and tinting them with a cool, calming hue. Ludovico Einaudi's score serves as a loving ode to the nature in the film, and Zhao's direction grants both people and their environment a degree of understanding so rarely seen in film. This understanding is channeled primarily through lead actress Frances McDormand, whose character Fern is the ostensible protagonist of Nomadland, but more accurately serves as a vessel for the audience. In other words, McDormand's responsibility in Nomadland is not to inhabit a character. All she needs to do is listen. McDormand is one of two Hollywood actors in the film; David Straitharn plays a fellow nomad. Every other character in the film is played by their real-life counterpart. In this way, Nomadland operates almost like a documentary. Characters pour their hearts out, sharing their triumphs and their hardships, as McDormand just nods and smiles. When Nomadland focuses on these stories, it is at its best. McDormand offers these individuals a crucial compassion, which ultimately extends to struggling workers nationwide. These characters are the backbone of the film, connecting with their environments and unfolding the details of their lives with an earnestness that forces one to wonder whether there is a camera present at all.
Of course, there is a camera. And a director behind it. There's also an actress: McDormand, whose very presence, no matter how genuine her performance, threatens to undermine the very foundation of Zhao's Nomadland. McDormand may excel as Fern, but she cannot shake her status as a celebrity. No actor can! McDormand's presence is a constant reminder of the world external to Nomadland, of a world in which celebrities like McDormand live with a certain degree of comfort and wealth. To be clear, Nomadland is a far cry from films like Ron Howard's Hillbilly Elegy, also of 2020. McDormand, along with Zhao, does extend genuine compassion to the plights highlighted in Nomadland. The film is not exploitative, nor does it operate as a sort of misery porn. But in striving for the exact opposite approach, one of absolute and unfettered realism, Nomadland opens itself up to precisely this criticism.
Surely, realism and fiction can coexist, so Nomadland is by no means a failure. It is still a very good, even important, film. Its focus on working-class Americans, its commitment to historicizing the Great Recession in a way few films have done even as the time slips further and further away, and its almost spiritual enchantment with the American natural landscape, are all crucial cultural contributions. Zhao's film is one of the most fervently anti-capitalist films to break into the American mainstream in a long, long time. In this sense, it suggests an exciting future, with more and more filmmakers like Zhao willing to confront and deconstruct the country's outdated economic system.
Nomadland highlights the potential of the American anti-capitalist film, but it also highlights the limits, the troubling confines that may preclude any American film from ever fully grappling with its own economic context. Indeed, no film of any genre or country of origin can evade its own constructedness, but American film culture presents some particularly sticky obstacles. I am not necessarily calling for the death of celebrity as a concept, but our societal obsession with it certainly limits the potential of our storytelling. Maybe that's not such a bad thing, some might say. Film, after all, is about entertainment. But films like Nomadland are becoming more and more necessary, and I fear that as long as they operate within the confines of our celebrity culture, they will only get so far in their messaging. McDormand deserves a great deal of credit for even getting Nomadland made in the first place, but her placement as the film's emotional and narrative core detracts from Nomadland's strongest attributes, and permits viewers to look away from those most affected by the film's real-life events. Of course, celebrities exist all over the world, but only America has forged such a stringent bond between cinema and celebrity, as if one cannot exist without the other. Zhao's film could have existed without McDormand, and likely been better off for it. I don't think the film should have been a documentary; it's perfectly fine as a narrative feature. But a cast of unknowns, an approach much more readily accepted by other national cinemas, would have been a more appropriate fit for Nomadland's broader project.
There is another reason to be concerned about Nomadland, however, and it has nothing to do with the film itself.
Director Chloe Zhao is undoubtedly an exciting new talent, having delivered The Rider just a few years prior. It makes sense, then, that Marvel Studios tapped Zhao for Eternals, a big-budget cosmic epic set to be one of the core pieces of the MCU's Phase 4.
Or does it?
Marvel has consistently brought into its fold budding directors for whom a successful blockbuster could cement their standing in Hollywood. Ryan Coogler and Black Panther. Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck and Captain Marvel. Taika Watiti and Thor: Ragnarok. Zhao is part of an even more "indie" lineup of directors in Phase 4, with Destin Daniel Cretton and Nia DeCosta also taking on Marvel superhero flicks. On the surface, the inclusion of these directors in Marvel's upcoming slate is promising. Each of these directors have unique voices, and may present similarly unique visions for the MCU's future.
It is perhaps more likely, however, that any boldness of vision that they do bring to the MCU gets chewed up and spit out as the same exact formula that we have seen across the franchise's first 23 films.
Zhao has shared her admiration for the MCU in the past, which is great! I too admit to enjoying much of the MCU (it's a habit I sometimes wish I could break.) While Eternals understandably presents a career-altering opportunity for Zhao, there is an alarming disconnect between her next film and her most recent. I'd like to hold out hope that Eternals will somehow maintain the compassion, intimacy, and progressiveness of Zhao's previous works, but it's difficult to imagine Marvel (i.e. Disney) doing anything but reinforcing the status quo.
In American cinema, all roads run through Disney Land. It's a troubling dynamic, a suffocating lid on the medium's potential. Nomadland laments the devastating impact that late-stage capitalism has had on this country, specifically during the late 2000's and early 2010's. But Zhao, who even pokes a little fun at Marvel in Nomadland by showing a dilapidated theater whose marquee suggests it was once showing nothing but 2012's The Avengers, has shown her true allegiances. After finishing Nomadland, it occurred to me that she could be a sort of American Ken Loach, offering a compassionate and clinical breakdown of our failing institutions. Alas, she is but part of these institutions, crafting films with anti-capitalist messaging, whilst ensuring the system's very survival.