Joshua James Richards, the cinematographer and partner to director Chloé Zhao, takes a documentary-style approach to the way he creates the visuals of the story, complementing Zhao’s commitment to realism in hiring nonprofessional actors to portray versions of themselves. One of the most impressive feats and visual takeaways from Nomadland is its use of natural lighting. All the fanciful high-production-value flourishes that mark many Oscar-winning films are stripped away, mirroring the minimalism of the van dwellers. There’s a striking beauty in this naturalism that highlights the landscapes of the filming locations and gives more weight to the sun in the story. A majority of scenes take place during “magic hour,” the short time leading up to sunrise and following sunset that is favored by many cinematographers.  

Realistically, filming during these limited windows complicates large productions, but Nomadland succeeds in harnessing this light to move the story forward. The prevalent sunrise and sunset scenes help reinforce the constant pace of time and the theme of life’s transience. No matter what happens, the sun rises and sets as life goes on. The prevalence of scenes at twilight subtly nods to the time of life many of the main characters find themselves in as they hit retirement age. In a poignant scene with Fern and Swankie, they spend time together walking in the desert post-sunset after we learn of Swankie’s terminal prognosis. The light acts as a metaphor for the waning time she has left on earth, but even as the sun dims, there is such beauty in the moment.  

The film’s visuals also reinforce this idea that Fern and the nomads are a sort of neo-pioneer in the twenty-first century. In one brief scene, a nightgown-clad Fern with a lantern in-hand walks through the Badlands campground with mountains visible under a pink sky. This imagery can’t help but evoke associations with westward expansion and the Oregon Trail. What’s more, the entire film is set in the American West and Fern finds herself in campsite environments as she traverses across rural terrain in her van, which could easily be substituted for a Conestoga wagon had this been several hundred years earlier. Fern’s sister Dolly compares her outright to pioneers, saying, “I think Fern is part of an American tradition,” which cements the quiet implications of the film’s visuals.  

Nomadland employs many long takes and steadicam shots as we follow Fern on her odyssey. We feel as if we are following close behind in a similar manner to a documentary, whether we are walking by Fern through the Rubber Tramp Rendezvous campsite or following her van as she drives through the desolate landscapes. The framing of the shots communicate so much without any dialogue. The ultra-wide angles, especially when Fern is with RTR in the desert, communicate the world’s vastness and the beauty of escaping into wide open spaces. Fern references open space when talking about her backyard in Empire: “there was nothing in our way.” And we see her revisit this space at the film’s end as she walks out the door of her old house for the last time. Additionally, when Fern departs from Dolly, a lingering wide shot shows the two sisters walking in opposite directions which visually reflects their life choices: Fern and Dolly have different worldviews and values. Fern was never going to stay and live a “normal life” of routine in the suburbs, and their physical separation puts a strain on the sisters’ relationship. 

Finally, the limited, but effective use of meditative, almost haunting piano tracks from Ludovico Einaudi helps reinforce the minimalism of Nomadland. We don’t hear any music until well into the film when Fern drives to Arizona to check out the Rubber Tramp Rendezvous. Much like a documentary, the music dips in and out with scarcity and serves as a subtle underscoring of the story. The score doesn't seek to overpower or create memorable motifs, but rather it supports and blends into the narrative during key moments. In the same way that the cinematography centers natural lighting, the simple piano tracks maintain Nomadland’s stripped-back feel and keeps the focus on the realism of the story and its very grounded characters.