Yuna@yuna_y

Suivre

Nomadland Chloé Zhao Frances McDormand

Fern loses her husband and then the gypsum plant shuts down, so the house goes too, and what's left of her life fits in a van. That's the setup for Nomadland, which Chloé Zhao directed in 2020, and what she built out of it is less a story about hitting the road than a warning label for what late-stage capitalism did to the American Dream. The promise turns into a part-time Amazon job and a vehicle you sleep in. Frances McDormand took home an Oscar for playing her, and I keep coming back to how little performing seems to be involved. Fern exists on screen instead of acting on it. A woman who has lost the two things that anchored her, and she still picks the road over whatever the other option is. The ending, her walking away from the last place she could call hers, sat in my chest for days. She drifts through the American West, picks up temporary work, falls in with other people living the same way. Loss, independence, and the question of what home even means once nothing familiar is left to point at. That's the whole movie. Meanwhile the rest of Hollywood keeps making three-hour superhero movies about saving the world. Zhao made 108 minutes about one woman who can't save herself, and it lands harder than the MCU ever has. As far as Best Picture winners go, this one is about as un-American as the Academy has crowned in decades. It doesn't celebrate resilience. It grieves the fact that for millions of people resilience is the only door left open, and the Oscars still handed it the top prize.

3w

Yuna@yuna_y

Suivre

Nomadland Chloé Zhao Frances McDormand

Fern loses her husband and then the gypsum plant shuts down, so the house goes too, and what's left of her life fits in a van. That's the setup for Nomadland, which Chloé Zhao directed in 2020, and what she built out of it is less a story about hitting the road than a warning label for what late-stage capitalism did to the American Dream. The promise turns into a part-time Amazon job and a vehicle you sleep in. Frances McDormand took home an Oscar for playing her, and I keep coming back to how little performing seems to be involved. Fern exists on screen instead of acting on it. A woman who has lost the two things that anchored her, and she still picks the road over whatever the other option is. The ending, her walking away from the last place she could call hers, sat in my chest for days. She drifts through the American West, picks up temporary work, falls in with other people living the same way. Loss, independence, and the question of what home even means once nothing familiar is left to point at. That's the whole movie. Meanwhile the rest of Hollywood keeps making three-hour superhero movies about saving the world. Zhao made 108 minutes about one woman who can't save herself, and it lands harder than the MCU ever has. As far as Best Picture winners go, this one is about as un-American as the Academy has crowned in decades. It doesn't celebrate resilience. It grieves the fact that for millions of people resilience is the only door left open, and the Oscars still handed it the top prize.

3w