Some films so persuasively blur the line between fiction and reality, that the result feels less like fabricated drama, and more like a documentary.
 |
| Fern (Frances McDormand) and Dave (David Strathairn) enjoy a rare hearty meal while taking in the wonders of South Dakota's Badlands National Park. |
Zhao’s film is adapted from Jessica Bruder’s 2017 non-fiction book of the same title: itself a sly blend of character study and undercover journalism. Although this cinematic translation is anchored by Academy Award winner Frances McDormand — as a fictitious character — most of the supporting players are true nomads with no prior acting experience.
Which makes the performances that Zhao coaxes from them, all the more stunning. It’s damn near impossible to capture true authenticity on camera, because novices tend to be too self-conscious, too aware of “posing.” What Zhao and cinematographer Joshua James Richards have done here, is nothing short of remarkable.
The story opens on an actual event: the sad fate of Empire, Nevada, a tiny mining community run by U.S. Gypsum since 1948. In the wake of the recession, the company closed its gypsum plant in January 2011, eliminating all jobs for the local residents. By the end of that year, Empire had become a modern-day ghost town, having lost even its Zip Code (89405).
Fern (McDormand) is hit harder than most, her husband having died from a lingering disease. In a heartbeat, then, she has lost her entire world: her job, her soul mate, her neighbors, her very community.
Dismayed by how the “stuff” of a failed American dream has lost its significance, Fern limits her world to whatever can be stuffed into her white Ford Econoline van, which then becomes her home. She’s reasonably resourceful, fabricating and adding all manner of cupboards, compartments and folding counters that are both cleverly functional and somewhat cozy.
“I’m not homeless,” she insists tartly, during a chance encounter with a former neighbor. “I’m just house-less.”
It’s December; Fern has signed up for seasonal work at an Amazon fulfillment center, which comes with campground facilities that compensate for her van’s lack of running water and, well, anything approaching a bathroom. She befriends co-worker Linda May: Fern’s first encounter with a veteran “nomad.”
(Zhao’s obvious devotion to authenticity notwithstanding, it’s an eyebrow lift when Fern’s stint at the fulfillment center is depicted as pleasantly satisfying, with plenty of bonding, but not even a whiff of the exploitatively hard labor and exhaustingly long hours. Clearly, that wasn’t an element of the story Zhao wished to tell, so we must let it slide.)
