Nomadland

An entire town picks up and moves after the mine shuts down after 80 years, the rural location never resourcefully blossoming into a multi-integrated industrious locale.

What do the reliable people who have lived their whole lives there do however, it's a bit of an unsettling preponderancy especially considering the magnetic wilderness.

Fern (Francs McDormand) tenaciously improvises to her new set of challenging economic circumstances, earning enough money to live off at different jobs, while taking deservéd time off in between.

Her husband passed away not long ago and she has no children or viable pension, she has family who are kind and sympathetic, but she's always prided herself on her independence. 

It's cool how the continental United States has so many warm regions during the winter months, and you can literally move from state to state throughout the progression of the solar year.

I suppose you could try to live in your car during a cold and provocative Canadian winter, but you'd have to spend a lot in gas to keep the heater running so much of the time.

Not only does Fern live the nomadic lifestyle she boldly defends it in critical arguments, democratically pointing out the rights of citizens who may not be as well of as those homeward bound.

Even when she's overwhelmed she doesn't hesitate to have her say, and isn't worried about spoiling the evening or what her in-laws may think later on.

A hesitant beau is interested (David Strathairn as Dave) and should have realized she's a heartbreaker.

Who loved that mining town.

And doesn't mind life on the road.

I don't want to recommend the nomadic lifestyle to the millions of people embracing bourgeois domesticity, I've found that what sounds appealing to me at times gets me into trouble when I start to advertise. 

But assuming that you're level-headed peeps who aren't going to drop everything because of an oddball blogger, I have to admit that I loved Nomadland's final moments, when Fern freely drives off into the mountains. 

Some people like the dynamic thrill of constant movement and unpredictable designs, their labyrinthine zigzagging ways non-traditionally motivating alternative economies. 

It often sounds like freedom to just live in your ride and travel the country, picking up work here and there as you go, assuming you don't have any responsibilities. 

You'd get to see so much of the continent as you productively roamed vigilantly throughout, there are thousands of places to visit, and wouldn't it be cool to see NFL and CFL games in every home city?

Fern chooses life on her own and as I watched I thought she was real.

It's tough to think that people her age still have to work.

You'd imagine we'd have cleared that up by now. 

*Geez Louise. This has nothing to do with the war in Palestine. I wrote it last week. There's a lot of rural industry in Canada so it's important for the different towns to integrate multidimensionally so people don't have to move (easier said than done). Honestly, I think Netanyahu's a butcher (as is Hamas), and his appeal to the stone age is making things infinitely worse, historically speaking. 🥲

Zagros

Zagros pulls you in with the simple genuine honesty often disseminated by documentary films.

Patiently listening and modestly sifting through vivid delicate realizations, it sincerely brings to life different aspects of a traditional art, whose practitioners have fallen on hard times, inasmuch as their markets are stifling.

And it's a shame considering how beautiful their finished products are, how stunning, how unique.

How integral.

The herculean labour that goes into creating just one exemplar is mind-boggling from a mechanized point of view, but each individual carpet radiates such intense authenticity that it's surprising they don't sell for a bundle.

To an eager sympathetic clientele.

Zagros begins by introducing craftspersons then investigates their age old supply chain.

We meet feisty nomads who herd sheep across inhospitable terrain, forced to both cross busy roads with their flock, and carefully plan each conspicuous graceful movement.

The domestic remonstrations of ill-tempered critical children taunt a man who dyes thirsty wool, as he has for over 40 years, their protests related to a sparse income earned, his defence uplifted through blithe perseverance.

His children are still unaware of how fortunate they are to have unmitigated access to a mastercraftsperson, who can teach them everything he knows for the asking, and help them earn their own living one day.*

Assuming markets bounce back.

Starting from the top.

His job isn't rich with diversity and uproar, but is still steeped in patrimonial passion, as he skilfully demonstrates with ease, much like Kierkegaard's Validity of Marriage.

Aesthetic Validity of Marriage.

Location makes no difference to the craft although it may to the income generated.

I imagine traditional craftspersons across the globe pursue their art with equal degrees of dedication.

You pay a bit more (hopefully) but it's worth it; I'll never look at carpets the same way again.

I was vilified once in my youth (not for long) for lauding wallpaper. I couldn't understand why at the time. Still don't really. It looked quite nice.

Zagros takes the time to profoundly examine its subject, long relaxed scenes catalyzed in thoughtful homage.

It's like that feeling you get on a sunny afternoon when you're engaged in various tasks but don't have much to do.

I would never have the patience to craft a handmade carpet, although I have nothing but praise for the art.

The harpist creates music, carpets are woven melodically.

Meticulous essentials.

Innate hearty blooms.

Respiring.

*I was lucky to have caring teachers in my youth, and unmitigated access to an old school Irish lexicon.