Nightmare Alley

Director: Guillermo del Toro
Starring: Bradley Cooper, Cate Blanchett, Rooney Mara, Toni Collette, Willem Dafoe, Richard Jenkins, Ron Perlman, David Strathairn, Mary Steenburgen, Peter MacNeill, Holt McCallany, Paul Anderson, Jim Beaver, Clifton Collins, Jr., Tim Blake Nelson
Running Time: 150 min.
Rating: R 

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Part remake, part noir homage, Guillermo del Toro's Nightmare Alley will likely go down as one of those more respectable reimaginings that gets more right than wrong, making for an immersive, entirely agreeable experience. Free of the supernatural elements that have categorized much of del Toro's work, all the attention shifts to the soullessness and moral corruption that resides within. And there isn't a much better a setting for that than traveling sideshow carnivals of the 30's and 40's, populated by downtrodden characters being either used, abused or manipulated as scams and cons run amok. With a script from del Toro and co-writer Kim Morgan, the second feature adaptation of William Lindsay Gresham's 1946 novel doesn't stray too far from the source material in the narrative sense, instead stylistically distinguishing itself in a class of its own, as del Toro's output tends to. 

With a stacked, all-star-cast and awe inspiring production design, the plot's essentially one long con game, and while the second half payoff's considerably more impactful than what precedes it, the whole setup looks better in retrospect, especially once the story arrives at its inevitably tragic destination. There's a certain aesthetic superficiality at play that matches its characters, so even while it doesn't transcend the horror genre to evolve into something more profound, you'd still be hard-pressed to find a a movie of its ilk more technically proficient or firing on as many cylinders.

It's 1939 and Stanton Carlisle (Cooper) takes a job as a carny after burning down his house with a dead body inside. When the carnival's owner, Clem Hoatley (Willem Dafoe) recruits him to help with the show's geek, who's fallen ill, Stan moves up to begin working with clairvoyant Madame Zeena (Toni Colette) and her alcoholic husband, Pete Krumbein (David Strathairn), who teaches him the secrets of their act. While learning and studying their cold reading and coded language tactics, he begins to fall for shy performer Molly Cahill (Rooney Mara), offering up some valuable new ideas for her electrocution act. But after Pete dies from consuming wood alcohol, Stan takes the lessons he's learned on the road with Molly as his assistant, leaving their carnival days behind to reinvent himself as a psychic act for Buffalo's wealthy elite. 

Ignoring Pete's warnings about leading people on when it comes to contacting the deceased, Stan's bluff is called by mysterious psychologist Dr. Lilith Ritter (Cate Blanchett), who attempts to publicly expose  his act as a fraud, with little success. Humiliated but intrigued by the scammer, she offers him a deal involving a rich but potentially dangerous patient named Ezra Grindle (Richard Jenkins) whose lover died years ago from a forced abortion. Despite Molly's objections, Stan makes promises to Grindle about his late partner he may not be able to keep, ensnaring himself in a web of lies and deceit from which there may be no escape. 

What makes this all mostly work is that there's just enough revelations and twists in the script, while still remaining relatively simple at its core. Themes of greed, avarice and betrayal are front and center, eventually coming full circle in a powerful ending, but not before some convoluted happenings occur along the way. Del Toro strikes just the right tone, especially in the early carnival scenes that set Stan on his dark path, eventually dragging Mara's Molly down along with him, though she admittedly registers a bit flat as a character.

Cooper's incredibly effective depiction of the protagonist's transformation from wide-eyed, ambitious awe into obsessive greediness is facilitated by the supporting cast. Whether it's Strathairn's hopeless drunk, Collette's tarot reader or Dafoe's swindling huckster, they all more than carry their share of the load. As does Tamara Deverell's production design and Dan Laustsen's cinematography, which immerses them all in this weathered, dirty, depressing "freak show" world. That this was also released in black and white actually makes a lot of sense, as it's hard to think of any recent picture with a content and visual style better suited to that treatment without it feeling like a gimmick. 

It isn't until Stan takes his act on the road with Molly and encounters Dr. Ritter that the movie really comes alive, with the possibility presenting itself that the ultimate player has finally met his match.  Blanchett's femme fatale looms largest of any character, bringing a cunning, seductive sense of danger and intrigue to Ritter with each carefully calculated move she makes. Her nomination-worthy performance is the ideal fit for this material, with the chemistry she shares with Cooper fueling the film's most tension-filled moments, even as it's clear the direction del Toro's heading in the last act. 

There are clues and brief flashbacks emphasizing a past Stan needs to run far away from, but can't, no matter how hard he tries. With this mentalist show, he's devised a one-way ticket to the big time, unaware his own weaknesses are about to be exploited and exposed as callously as his clients have been by him. What starts as a scheme goes entirely too far, his eventual comeuppance arriving in the final scene, sentenced to the very life he so desperately tried to escape, at any cost imaginable.    

Even as Del Toro's direction trumps the script, you'd often never know it, as the atmosphere and performances carry the day, specifically Bradley Cooper's. Further extending his run as maybe the most consistently reliable actor and movie star working today, he delivers again with his portrayal of this ambitious, narcissistic carny more than willing to sell his soul, or anyone else's, for a quick buck. Relentlessly depressing and darkly humorous, Nightmare may not be for all tastes, but it's still a keeper, likely to be revisited down the line as something slightly more accomplished than its critical and commercial reputation suggests.  

Nomadland

Director: Chloé Zhao
Starring: Frances McDormand, David Strathairn, Linda May, Charlene Swankie, Bob Wells, Derek Endres, Peter Spears, Tay Strathairn
Running Time: 108 min.
Rating: R 

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

Chloé Zhao's Nomadland resides somewhere between a true life documentary, Into The Wild and About Schmidt while somehow not feeling like any mainstream feature at all. Some will be gutted and transfixed by the painfully realistic and depressing picture it paints of the displacement of older people in rural America, even as others tire of its non-linear narrative and lack of resolution. Place me in the former camp. Meandering, but in the best possible way, it kind of ambles along plotlessly in the vein of its protagonist, so effortlessly absorbing in its matter-of-fact storytelling that it's of little surprise Zhao adapted it from a non-fiction book (Nomadland: Surviving America in the Twenty-First Century, by Jessica Bruder).

With a cast full of untrained actors and hardly a traditional beginning, middle or end to speak of, there's something wonderfully straightforward about just observing this woman and the challenges she faces without any editorializing or cloying attempts at wringing sympathy. She is who she is, and two-time Oscar winner Frances McDormand's face does all the work in conveying her experiences and what could possibly follow. The latter is tricky since most of time she doesn't know, and seems remarkably okay with that, if even occasionally proud. Of course, she's not okay and has been through a lot, making McDormand's naturalistic performance the movie's not so secret weapon, as she skillfully navigates what could have easily come off as a pity party in less capable hands.

Simultaneously a tribute to human endurance and the perseverance of strangers, the story's harsher realities are never ignored. Many lifelines are thrown this woman's way but she doesn't take them, perhaps partially out of stubbornness, but mainly because she values the independence of carving her own path. Beautifully photographed and edited, it's like watching life unfold in real time, with its sparse plot strangely increasing its staying power and our desire to eventually return for more viewings, in hopes we can continue peeling back the layers of its incredibly relatable characters. 

It's 2011 and Fern (McDormand) loses her job at the USG Corporation plant in Empire, Nevada when it shuts down, causing her to sell most of her belongings and hit the road in a van. Still mourning her husband's recent death, she lives out of her vehicle traveling and looking for a job when she finds seasonal employment at an Amazon fulfillment center. While there, friend and co-worker, Linda (Linda May) recommends she look into a desert community in Arizona run by vandweller Bob Wells (YouTuber Bob Wells, playing a version of himself). 

After initially dismissing Linda's idea, Fern changes her mind and ventures out to the community, learning crucial survival skills for the road while meeting other nomads, such as the ailing but feisty Swankie (Charlene Swankie) and David (David Strathairn), with whom she strikes up a close friendship. Fern's stay, much like everything else in her life right now, is temporary, before heading off for a new adventure. She'll encounter David again, but his somewhat strained relationship with son Peter (Peter Spears) unexpectedly prompts some self-reflection of her own. Torn between further asserting her independence or potentially putting down roots in a more traditional sense, she finds herself at a literal crossroads, open to wherever the journey takes her next.

There's an awkward but moving early scene when Fern is approached in a store by a woman and her teen daughter she once tutored. Having heard Fern's living out of a van, the mother offers to let her stay at their place, even as we know there's no chance she'd ever accept. Her pride simply won't allow it. And then comes that word. "Homeless." Just hearing it stings, as she's quick to point out that she's "house-less," which sums up the situation of the various nomads we meet over the course of the film, older people who by choice or circumstance have found themselves on society's financial outs. The shutdown of Fern's plant has economically decimated her the town and its residents, and now, without a livable government pension and limited work options for someone her age, Bob Wells' roaming lifestyle looks superior to most alternatives.

Traveling from town to town in a van while taking one low-paying job after the next, we realize the true desperation of her predicament. It's easy to be lulled into viewing this as an entirely inspirational tale since Fern is such a headstrong, determined woman whom McDormand imbues with a level-headed optimism and toughness. But this isn't okay. There's a lot she doesn't know, and while the support system of fellow nomads provide valuable guidance, she's always half a step away from disaster, as are  many others who adopted nomadic life. A flat tire or any vehicular maintenance issue isn't a day at the beach for anyone, but it's especially catastrophic when every penny counts like this.

The authentic bonds Fern forms with Linda, Bob, Swankie and David are transient ones, both because of the nature of their lifestyles (as Bob says, it's "see you down the road" rather than goodbye) and her inability to let people in following her husband's passing. A fledgling romance with David seems destined to go nowhere as discomfort radiates through every interaction she has, closing her off from the rest of the world. There comes a point in the film where she has a shot at settling down into a comfortable existence and it's clear she just can't do it, no matter how welcoming the invite or warmth of hospitality. 

When Fern's life with her husband ended, so did she in a sense. The last act doesn't doesn't offer much in the way of closure, as it shouldn't for this character. It's a story still very much being written and far from completely resolved, following a cyclical pattern that keeps drawing Fern back to the road. While it's open for interpretation whether her decision to continue living like this is cause for celebration, what's harder is offering up another ending that would ring as true. Still, it's impossible to not see the bigger picture here in that many of these nomads have been unnecessarily relegated to the fringes for circumstances far beyond their control.  

Zhao, who previously directed 2018's highly acclaimed The Rider, emerges as the ideal fit for a specific type of project that could have turned out a myriad of different ways depending on who was behind the camera. A similarly themed entry in this sub-genre released that same year, Ani Simon-Kennedy's overlooked The Short History of the Long Road, covered a lot of intersecting ground, with a far younger character also learning tough lessons in self-sufficiency after tragedy strikes. Ironically, that effort, with which this would make a compelling double feature, ends in much the same way Nomadland begins, and also ends. Road movies seem to feature protagonists running from something, only to find themselves right back where they started, hopefully transformed and bettered from the experience. We're not sure Fern is, but the film finds serenity in the fact that she'll always be in the driver's seat.