At the beginning of No Country, Fern drives her RV down the cold Nevada Highway. When the wind blew the window, she faced the empty road, humming an inappropriate hymn alone. Her destination is an Amazon warehouse, where she will spend weeks sealing packages for delivery. Such a job may not be a godsend, but it will help her and many of the mobile workforce get through a tough winter. "I'm not homeless, I'm just houseless." With this wandering, No Home seems to attempt to meditate on the meaning of the concept of "home": whether it is necessary or not Exist in one building, or is just one car enough? Are the prerequisites for a sense of security and belonging, destined to be kinship? All of the above, and at various points in the film, Fern may lose them. But it is precisely this film with little plot and often no dialogue that never asks us to sympathize with her, just as she does not need to sympathize with herself at all. In a story with little plot burden, we follow Fern the wanderer, a woman in her 60s. Fern is independent, intelligent, and resourceful, but also often incomprehensible. She has a strong attachment to the unpretentious lifestyle she adopts, and survival skills keep her more or less afloat as she goes from job to job, even if reality doesn't fail to provide her with seemingly Preferred choice. Fern is not a victim here: she has options, none of which are attractive to her. Honestly, Fern wasn't always an easy person to love or be loved, as evidenced by her relationship with meet Dave and sister Dolly. Yet again, in Francis McDormand's rendition, she's a charming, strong woman, and you can't help but support her, even if you don't always understand her reasons. Fern is incredibly quiet, and she rarely speaks unless she has something to say. She's working class and occasionally rude and outspoken, but she's also a woman full of surprises: We see her practicing the flute alone in her RV, and we also see her reciting a poem from memory to a young traveler . Frances McDormand's performance with both depth and ambiguity suggests that Fern's ever-changing life trajectory is both a search for something and an avoidance of something else, not even her own. Determine what exactly those two things are. Director Zhao Ting is good at presenting the lyrical beauty of the composition of her shots: the characters are placed in the foreground during the long shooting, and the characters are dwarfed by the huge picturesque scenery in the background. These lenses have a A postcard-like beauty, the subject is set against the majestic and brilliant watercolor paintings, but never beautifies nature in pursuit of a specific visual effect. These lonely roads, rugged mountains and rocky deserts, are an inherent part of nomadic life. From the Sierra Nevada to the Badlands of South Dakota to the deserts of Arizona, sometimes Fern sees a running bison through the car window, sometimes she floats naked in a forest spring by a waterfall, all of which suggest that she has Power and independent spirit drawn from nature. However, superimposed on these haunting and vast natural features is 21st century capitalism. An appreciation of the American Midwest scenery is incorporated into a narrative that often contrasts the cramped space of Fern's RV with the open space outside her car. Fern's work scenes are also often shot from a distance, as if the footage emphasizes their inhuman scale; however, neither the filmmakers nor the characters offer any sermons or rebukes about the exploitative nature of modern labor, which are leftovers. Let the audience experience it for themselves. Fern is a still grieving individual whose desire for human connection and interaction has been interfering with the certainty she has attempted to display. She wasn't abandoned by strangers or people who knew her—people offered to accept her, but those were never what she wanted. In the group of nomads, where people cross each other and help each other, but never try to hold each other too tightly, she seems to have found a place for herself. The seemingly alienated but precious camaraderie within the nomadic community is a moving place – old men and women look out for each other in a dream of kindness that transcends political stereotypes, a friendship that comes and goes without the limits of distance. Like Fern, many of them are approaching retirement age, but instead of trying to maintain what they once had, they have cut back on their desire needs. They are refugees from the last recession, refugees from rising housing prices—yet the creators refuse to attribute them to mere by-products of an increasingly ruthless capitalist system. Through these characters, one can look at the ideas of early American pioneering without nostalgia, without the need to pathologize the eroded or failed parts of our social fabric. Through necessary life choices, this group has traded the honing of past careers for a precarious and careful liberation - strangers moving in and out of each other's lives without barriers: exchanging cigarettes, sandwiches or tools, sharing Trauma from their past, and finding peace in open spaces. If, in some ways, the film is an elegy for a disappearing blue-collar American society, it is also a tribute to the A personalized tribute to the world's surviving and adapting outcasts. Nowhere is more than a chronicle of life on the fringes, it's also showing us how individuals who have left the mainstream and forged their own paths are shaping their identities. America in the film is vast and desolate, stretching all the way to the dim horizon. However, the film shows that in the midst of hardship and heartache, there is a serenity, even a euphoria, to this way of life - without the burden of houses and possessions, one can live in the days of Emerson and Mark Twain glorious and very American liberty in the tradition of We don't necessarily all feel directly the struggles Fern had, but we can all feel the unease and uncertainty. COVID-19 has revealed huge fault lines in society and how difficult life can be for those on the brink of cracks. Images of nomads that seem to be the answer to the turmoil and anxiety of 2020 contain much of the goodness of the simplest of things. Nomadic groups are full of people who have lived, and life always brings some pain, but what defines them is happiness—the happiness of being self-sufficient, making do with what you have, in exchange for as much as you can to get what you need thing. It's a surprisingly small world where some people follow the same migration patterns and bump into each other. Creators usually tend to judge their characters: the good guys are here and the bad guys are there; what are the protagonists' problems to solve; should they be happy or sad at the end of the movie; whether their fate is doomed...but, Zhao Ting But in a non-judgmental way, viewers are invited to decide for themselves what they think of Fern's way of life. Fern doesn't think she needs to be redeemed or saved, and the director doesn't hit the pause button to try to get us to sympathize with her, and at the same time never underestimate her loneliness and sadness. Fern may belong to one such nomadic tradition, but tradition alone cannot explain her inner conflict. She recoiled from the soft and warm bed, as if these warmths were things quite alien to her; she longed for solitude and comfort in it, but the company of strangers was just as important. We can read these personalities of her like a map, leading us deeper into our inner world, giving shape and form to vague personal histories. Fern, with her awkward gait and twisted, cautious smile, is the master of everything she observes, of the fields and mountains she sees on her long drive, of the streams she stops for a moment, of her The owner of the majestic bison who may happen to glimpse. What is home? Her home is anywhere this road takes her - no room to live in, but never home, even if Lonely, but also calm and at ease. If you want to get more out of life, you have to lose your preference for monotonous security and adopt a disorganized lifestyle that seems crazy to you at first; but once you get used to it , you will see its full meaning and incredible beauty. At the end of the film, two lines from an earlier scene resonate as Fern looks at the now-empty Nevada town, factory, and home where she has spent most of her life. One is her description of the scenery across the desert into the mountains: "There was nothing in our way." Another is what she learned from her father: "The thing to remember is life. (What's remembered lives.)" "Nowhere" is an understated film that aptly presents a twisted, unhurried sense of non-narrative layering, rather than a standard framework for building a story. Importantly, the cumulative effect of its many quiet, seemingly inconsequential encounters and moments of solitary contemplation reflects the unique portrayal of the "outsider" being in the world. If you immerse yourself in the film's sometimes melancholy, sometimes bright rhythm, you'll find a lot of beauty, serenity, all coherent and comfortable.
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