Nomadland, Up In The Air, and the ecstacy and perils of an unsettled life
There was a point in my life where I simply wanted to travel full time. I re-watched Up in the Air with my fiancee recently and told her that it depicted the degree of bachelordom that I once aspired to. And I have always been curious about the lives of vandwelling nomads.
Up in the Air is one of my favorite films. George Clooney's character, Ryan Bingham, wanders the country for work as a consultant. He lives out of his suitcase. He is antsy and uncomfortable at home, in his bare condo in Omaha. To stop moving, or to settle down, would be akin to giving up. But somewhere deep down Ryan understands the benefits of a connected life:
If you think about it, your favorite memories, the most important moments in your life... were you alone? ... Life's better with company.
Nomadland, like Up in the Air, takes place in the wake of the Great Recession. Our main character Fern lived with her husband in the now-defunct mining town Empire NV for thirty years. But then he died, and the mines closed. The US Census wrote her town out of existence. She moved most of what she owned into a storage unit, and moved herself into a cargo van. She joined the growing ranks of seasonal workers who power the logistics of major retailers like Amazon.
At first, Nomadland appears to be an examination of a certain type of poverty and precariousness. However over the course of the film we realize that, for many of the characters (including Fern) being a nomad is a lifestyle choice.
We are initially led to believe that Fern was forced to become a nomad by her circumstances; however, we learn that her husband was the only reason she stayed in Empire for so long.
Bo never knew his parents, and we never had kids. If I didn't stay, if I left, it would be like he never existed. I couldn't pack up and move on. He loved Empire. He loved his work so much. He loved being there, everybody loved him. So I stayed. Same town, same house. Just like my dad used to say: "What's remembered, lives." I maybe spent too much of my life just remembering.
Her family says she was always a little "different", and one wonders if she is neurodivergent. She is independent at her core, has been her whole life. Her husband's death and the death of the town finally gave her a reason to leave.
Fern most eschews offers for "help", preferring the solitude and freedom of her van. At the end of the film she returns to Empire. When she weeps in her now empty home, we wonder -- is she grieving the previous life that she lost? Or is she grieving the years that she spent stuck in Empire? It isn't clear. She sells or gives way the items in her storage unit, and returns to the road.
I have the kind of job in healthcare which could, theoretically, allow me the unsettled life depicted in one of these films. I really thought about it: I could buy an RV, and take locums jobs in different parts of the country. But I realized the lesson of Up in the Air - I enjoy life with company, and I like being close to the people who need me.
I don't know how to describe how I feel when I watch Nomadland and see the open road and beautiful scenery. It reminds me of a road trip I took in Northern California a couple years ago. I knew California lacks the continuous density of the East, but I wasn't prepared for how it would feel. I'd drive past these little communities or ranches and wonder about the people who lived there. The open road and rural West seem majestic and wonderous, but also very lonely. I enjoyed the trip for a few days. I don't think I could make a life out of it.
I think these movies have opposite lessons and themes. Up in the Air is a film about a solitary man who realized his need for connection. It offers a warning -- if we reject connection when it is offered to us we might miss our chance and end up alone. Whereas Nomadland tells the story of a woman who was part of a family and community, but once it was stripped away she realized that she values solitude and freedom over everything else.
I'm not that kind of person. I'm a bit more like Ryan than Fern. But maybe someday we will hit the road -- for a few weekends at a time.