THE LAST CHAPTER of Hebrews in the New Testament begins with a reminder of how to serve God and build a healthy community: “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it” (13:2). Biblical hospitality takes many forms, but it consistently involves selfless sharing of space, resources, and—perhaps most importantly—attention. To share part of your life with another person, and allow them to share in return, is to show that they matter.
Nomadland, Chloé Zhao’s contemporary American road film, is full of biblical hospitality. By turning a documentary-style eye on a real community of nomads who otherwise slip through the cracks of society, writer and director Zhao’s film—which won 2021 Golden Globes for best motion picture and best director—provides its actors/subjects with space to be seen, heard, and known.
Like The Rider, Zhao’s previous film, Nomadland combines elements of narrative and documentary filmmaking by crafting a story around the lived experiences of real people. Our guide, Fern (Frances McDormand), leaves her home in Empire, Nev., to live on the road. Fern is part of a subculture of older adults who, left in dire financial straits by the 2008 recession, live in vans as modern-day nomads, picking up gig work across the country. As Fern travels, she makes friends with several fellow nomads (most of them real people playing themselves) who share their stories with her.
Early in Fern’s journey, she attends a meetup for fellow van-dwellers to share tips, trade items, and build community. Later, some of them provide lifesaving help. Others bring valued companionship. All are open about the circumstances that have brought them together and their hopes for the future. Here, hospitality doesn’t always look like sharing a table or a roof. Instead, it’s about sharing each other.
By allowing these characters to talk about their real lives throughout the movie, Nomadland supports this ethos, providing a platform for an overlooked population. A woman named Swankie tells Fern she hopes each of her friends will throw a rock into a campfire to remember her after she dies, which she does by the film’s end. Zhao allows Swankie’s memory to live on through the film. It’s an especially moving act of hospitality, a gift of attention—an acknowledgment that she has value.
Nomadland is defined by this humbling approach to hospitality. For 107 minutes, Zhao invites a series of strangers into our hearts and asks us to consider how we might do the same. It is an example of empathy as both a spiritual and artistic practice, opening the door to people who seek not charity, but dignity.
Abby Olcese is a freelance film critic and writer based in Missouri. You can find her on Twitter @abbyolcese.
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