‘Not homeless, just houseless,’ she says. Fern deals with both responses with a stoicism that speaks for a film with no time for self-pity. Is she truly free or just a different kind of prisoner to the system? The people she bumps into along the way can’t decide if she’s ‘one of those lucky people who can travel anywhere’, as one observer tactlessly puts it, or a hobo in need of a roof for the night. It’s that question which preoccupies Nomadland as Fern heads south, making ends meet with seasonal jobs in Amazon fulfilment centres, learning the art of stealth parking and hunkering down for freezing nights in gas station forecourts. But as she slams the doors on her lock-up in the now wintry ghost town and hits the freeway, it’s hard to know if she’s a rolling stone or just human tumbleweed. Home is now her battered Ford Econoline van, which she has proudly kitted out, Xzibit-style, to max out the space (she’s fondly nicknamed it ‘Vanguard’). It may leave you wanting to jack it all in and head for the nearest national park (or failing that, a park).īased loosely on reporter Jessica Bruder’s non-fiction account of the town’s fate, it follows Empire survivor, widow and one-time substitute teacher Fern (the ever-outstanding Frances McDormand somehow out-outstanding herself alongside a cast of mostly non-actors), as she picks up the pieces on the open road. Nomadland transforms that story of economic catastrophe into one of healing and reconnection that’s raw with emotional honesty and boasts an almost spiritual connection with the landscape. The death of Empire is the birth of writer-director Chloé Zhao’s beautifully shot, poignant and deeply felt road movie – hand’s down the film of the year so far.

When American mining company USG closed down its gypsum plant in Empire, Nevada in 2011, the town just died.

Nomadland jessica bruder review