'Nomadland' is deeply sad but also profoundly important

I finally caught Chloe Zhao's beautiful film Nomadland on Hulu and it's a stunner. 

I had wondered if the film could ever live up to the hype around it, it's topped many 2020 best of lists and is considered a shoo-in for a boatload of Oscars. 

That said, it doesn't feel like a manipulative movie in search of acclaim. In fact, it's lack of sentimentality is what makes it feel so unique. It's one of the best films I've seen capture the brutality of our modern economic crisis. It's about the human collateral damage of capitalism, although it never beats you over the head with its message.

This isn't dress-up playacting of plight (which is my understanding of what Hillbilly Elegy is) it's richly authentic and unflinching.

It's centered on a remarkably honest and unglamorous lead performance from Frances McDormand. She already has two richly deserved Best Actress Oscars (even though I wasn't a fan of Three Billboards, her performance was worthy) and she could easily win a third for her heartbreaking work here as a widowed woman who has embraced a nomadic lifestyle -- one that is by turns rewarding (she forms deep bonds with her fellow travelers) and full of pitfalls (health scares, the hassle of parking where you're not wanted).

McDormand's character's entire backstory isn't fleshed out and the movie is better for it. We get enough of her journey to understand where she was and her weathered face is etched with so much feeling you can figure out where she is going. She is surrounded by a cast of what appears to be mostly non-actors (with the notable exception of the always achingly vulnerable David Strathairn) who give the movie a vivid sense of urgency and reality.

They work odd, arduous jobs -- an Amazon warehouse is depicted in all its antiseptic horror -- and endure the casual dismissal and judgment of others for embracing a lifestyle that for many of them feels like the only option in a world that has grown totally foreign to them.

Not unlike last year's Sound of Metal, this is a sensitive, quiet film that eschews easy plot contrivances or feel-good emotions. Instead, it goes for stark beauty and devastating truths. I haven't seen a movie quite like it and it's easily one of last year's best films.

Don't let its relative bleakness be a deal breaker.