When I was living full-time in a van before the pandemic, I visited San Diego, a place where it was common to find people . The city鈥檚 year-round warm weather facilitated听a booming community who lived in vans and RVs as a lifestyle choice. At the same time, a housing shortage and high rent prices forced others to live in their vehicles because they had nowhere else to turn.听

These groups regularly shared the same spaces, despite their differences, and lines between them were often blurred. They all lived with wheels beneath them in public lots and along seaside streets, but for many, privilege was a great鈥攁nd often hidden鈥攄ivider.听

As vanlife听has grown in popularity throughout the country, those who live in vehicles out of necessity, particularly older people, can be overlooked and forgotten. , a new feature film about hard-up baby boomers forced to take to the open road after the 2008 financial crash, grants them an overdue moment of recognition.听

The movie follows Fern (played by Frances McDormand), a widow in her sixties who resides听in an old van, which she uses to find seasonal work around the country. Fern once worked for the U.S.听Gypsum Corporation in Empire, Nevada, before the company went bust, leaving Empire a ghost town. With little or no savings, she moved听into her ride.

While听on the road, Fern meets others who are trying to make the best of their lives鈥� tumultuous third act, trudging over the shards of what鈥檚 left of a crumbling American dream. She attends an event called the听听in Arizona, where she meets (played by the man himself), a YouTube personality who鈥檚 a听legend in the real-life van-dwelling community. Fern is but another听鈥渨orkhorse,鈥� as Wells describes people like her, 鈥渨illing to work itself to death and then be put out to pasture.鈥� To survive, they must stick together. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 what this is all about,鈥� Wells says of the听gathering, where attendees teach others the basics of road life: how to maintain their vans, find safe places to sleep, and build their own toilets.

Fern is our era鈥檚 Forgotten Woman. She is past middle age, living alone and still working, with no hope for retirement in sight. When we meet her, she has a job at an Amazon fulfillment warehouse and lives听in an RV park paid for by the company. When her work contract expires in wintertime鈥攁long with the stipend she gets from Amazon to rent the space鈥攕he has to move. She takes odd jobs around the country, polishing rocks at a mineral shop, swabbing toilets as a camp host, grilling burgers in a caf茅, and harvesting sugar beets.听

Like many Americans her age, Fern built her life around a single company that she relied on for everything: income, housing, health insurance, and security. At once, it all disappeared. Anyone who鈥檚 ever lost their job knows the utter helplessness you feel when you鈥檙e suddenly responsible for the benefits you once outsourced to a company. This听film will resonate with听anyone who鈥檚 been there鈥攁nd if you鈥檝e lived through the Great Recession and the COVID-19 pandemic, there鈥檚 a good chance you have.听

After I was laid off from my job in 2018, my wife and I sold what we could and traded our apartment for a used Ram ProMaster, in a homemade camper. Our 72-square-foot living space had no temperature control, so we followed the mild weather听around the country each season鈥攄own in winter,听up in summer鈥攐ccasionally joining caravans of nomads but often living isolated in the wilderness or sneaking in overnights on city streets. We considered ourselves incredibly privileged as we, a pair of childless millennials who could work remotely, chose to live this way.

Nomadic living has grown fashionable over the past few years, given the increase of telework and the technology that makes it possible. The ubiquity of social media has helped fuel this rise, documenting the phenomenon using soothing filters to hide its blemishes and flaws. (I, too, .) The hashtag 听fills Instagram with thirsty photos of sun-kissed twentysomethings performing yoga handstands atop $100,000 rigs in a magical world where it鈥檚 always the golden hour. It鈥檚 a fantasy land of eternal youth, full of beautiful people who seem to spend an extraordinary amount of time not wearing pants.听

Nomadland is not about those people. In fact, there are hardly any young people in the movie at all. Instead听it tells a much needed, unfiltered story of nomadic life. For many, mobile living isn鈥檛 about a lifestyle, chasing adventure, or becoming an influencer听but about听necessity, survival, and听grit. There are no sponsored posts, no hashtags, no likes.听

The film gently hints at the tension between those lucky enough to live in their vehicles for fun and those who do it for survival. When Fern and some friends tour a new luxury RV, they fantasize about what it would be like to live the good life in something so refined, traveling just for pleasure instead of necessity.听鈥淚t鈥檚 like a disco,鈥� one of the women marvels once inside the palatial rig, which has multiple bedrooms and even a washer-dryer. 鈥淥h my God!鈥澨�

Those who have spent time living on the road will recognize moments when Nomadland gets it just right: sometimes you get diarrhea in your van听when, of course, you鈥檙e out of toilet paper. Flat tires happen听as storm clouds begin to gather overhead. Strange men pound on your door at night while you鈥檙e sleeping and tell you to leave. Friends and family just don鈥檛 understand why you do it.听

In an early scene, Fern takes a moment to rest in a sporting-goods store鈥攚hen you live outside, any time spent indoors feels like an indulgence鈥攁nd an old friend shopping with her daughter sees her.听

鈥淎re you still doing the van thing?鈥� the friend asks Fern. 鈥淲e鈥檙e worried about you.鈥�

When Fern says she鈥檚 doing fine, the daughter turns to her and says, 鈥淢y mom says that you鈥檙e homeless. Is that true?鈥澨�

鈥淚鈥檓 not homeless,鈥� Fern replies. 鈥淚鈥檓 just houseless.鈥澨�

Nomadland is not a documentary, but it鈥檚 easy to forget that while watching it.听McDormand is one of only a few professional actors who appear in it. The rest of the cast is made up of real nomads playing versions of themselves, and they do so surprisingly well. Wells is featured prominently, as is听Linda May, who viewers may recognize from Jessica Bruder鈥檚 2017 book听, upon which the film is based. Not unlike Fern, the real-life Linda May, single and in her sixties, lived full-time in a small camper she named 鈥淭he Squeeze Inn鈥� and worked her way around the country as a camp host. The choice to feature normal people and shoot听on location in places like South Dakota鈥檚 Badlands and the Arizona desert allowed the film to showcase a real subculture and highlight听the economic forces that created it.听

Director Chlo茅 Zhao took a low-key, unorthodox approach to making Nomadland. To blend in, the film鈥檚 crew鈥攊ncluding Zhao鈥攍ived in vans alongside the nomads in the film and asked听those who played themselves to tell their personal stories using their own words. In one scene, Fern joins a group of people sitting around a campfire and listens as they talk about听how they ended up living as nomads, a powerful, unscripted section of the movie.

鈥淭hose were 100 percent real,鈥� Wells told me. 鈥淚 know those people. I know their stories. I鈥檝e heard them before. What you saw around the campfire was those people and their lives.鈥�

In its best moments, the film captures the bizarre rhythms of road life, as Fern sways between periods of joyful community and moments of crushing loneliness听that seem听to have no end. Friends are gone as quickly as they appear, leaving only dust behind as they drive away toward warmer weather or a new job. Many portions of Nomadland were shot听during sunset hours, a choice that casts a beautiful but haunting hue over its scenes.听The quiet style hypnotizes听in the same way you start to get a dizzy feeling听when you spend most of your time on a road headed somewhere else. Where to, exactly? Nowhere in particular. The next place. There鈥檚 always a next place.听

Nomadland听is available听on 听and in theaters February听19.

The post In 鈥楴omadland,鈥� Vanlife Is a Necessity鈥擭ot a Choice appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.