Chloe Zhao – Memphis Flyer

Among those who care about such things, Jack Kirby is considered the greatest comic book artist of all time. The King had his first breakthrough when he designed Captain America in 1941; then, after pausing to land on Omaha Beach with the U.S. Army, he drew everything from romance stories to horror comics. When he teamed up with Stan Lee to create The Fantastic Four in 1961, it signaled the beginning of a new era for the medium. Since he drew an estimated 12,000 pages for Marvel and at the height of his popularity up to two million copies of his work were printed each week, he is arguably one of the most seen artists of any kind.

Throughout his career, Kirby had an adversarial relationship with his publishers. And for good reason — he certainly wasn’t paid like the most seen artist in history. After a groundbreaking decade with Marvel, he jumped ship for DC in the early 1970s, then returned to Stan Lee’s bullpen after he was promised total creative control. Even after his 1994 death, his estate kept fighting for recognition. Kirby’s work provided almost all of the characters that have made up the Marvel Cinematic Universe, from the Hulk to Black Panther, so needless to say, there’s been a lot of litigation.

By the time Kirby returned to Marvel in the mid-’70s, his style had evolved considerably from the clean lines of the “BAM!” and “POW!” era. One of his first projects was an adaptation of 2001: A Space Odyssey that somehow managed to be even more psychedelic than the original. During this period, his pet project was the Eternals, which contained some of the most incredible images ever seen in the medium. It was less Batman, more Van Gogh. Kirby had become obsessed with classical mythology, so his new characters like Ikaris and Sersi, a group of practically immortal aliens who had shepherded humanity’s progress over the centuries, were presented as the real-life inspirations for the old legends. The story was almost beside the point. Kirby was in it for the art. Now, Eternals is venerated, but in the mid-’70s, the comic book was canceled after less than two years.

Now that the MCU’s first generation of heroes are retired, out of contract, and suing, the cultural juggernaut is reaching for new IP to exploit. Since the world is presumably not ready for the disco-themed superhero the Dazzler (try me, Kevin Feige) it’s the Eternals’ turn in the $200 million spotlight. Sersi (Gemma Chan), Ikaris (Richard Madden), Kingo (Kumail Nanjiani), Sprite (Lia McHugh), Phastos (Brian Tyree Henry), Makkari (Lauren Ridloff), Druig (Barry Keoghan), Ajak (Salma Hayek), and Thena (Angelina Jolie) show up on Earth at the dawn of civilization to defend us ascended apes from the Deviants, a mutated race of aliens who prey on emerging intelligent life. They were sent here by Arishem, a Celestial being who has big plans for the Earth. The early going is the most interesting part of the film, as we learn that the Hanging Gardens of Babylon were built over the Eternals’ starship Domo. The Eternals have standing instructions not to interfere with humanity, but they frequently bend the rules to do things like introduce the concept of the plow to early farmers. But as technology progresses, it becomes harder and harder to ignore the consequences of humanity’s aggressive nature paired with increasingly deadly technology. Director Chloe Zhao’s most striking sequence is set during the sack of Tenochtitlan by the Spanish in 1521, where the alien gods debate their responsibility while slaughter rages around them.

Zhao won the Best Picture and Best Director Oscars in 2020 for Nomadland. She is undoubtedly a talented director, but her strengths turn out to be the exact opposite of what Eternals requires. In Nomadland, she and Frances McDormand created one of the deepest characters in recent film history using subtlety and restraint. In superhero land, that translates to a lot of standing around stiffly. Zhao loves to use natural light and has an eye for sweeping landscapes. There’s nothing “natural” about Jack Kirby’s decadent ’70s phase. The psychedelic color pop of characters like the six-eyed space god Arishem is completely absent. It might not be so bad if there was a compelling story to tell, but that’s just not Eternals’ strong suit. There’s no reason this film needed to be 2.5 hours long.

Frankly, this is not Zhao’s fault. A live-action Eternals was always doomed. The only way to do this property justice would be an animated movie that put Kirby’s gloriously busy compositions in motion. It would be a barely coherent riot of colors with limited commercial potential, but at least it wouldn’t be boring.

“Chickenization” is a term coined by journalist Christopher Leonard to describe a phenomenon that has become ubiquitous in the American economy in the 21st century. In his 2014 book The Meat Racket: The Secret Takeover of America’s Food Business, he traced the trajectory of Tyson, the giant corporation that controls the vast majority of poultry produced in this country.

Beginning in the 1960s, Tyson was a pioneer of vertical integration — owning every link of the supply chain necessary to make your product — by buying up 33 competitors and stripping them of valuable assets. Then, armed with the data they collected from running every aspect of the operation, they outsourced the less profitable portions to independent contractors. In this case, that means small farmers who, in times past, had a number of food companies competing to buy their chickens. But since Tyson owns everything from the feed mill to the slaughterhouse, now the small farmers have to play by the rules the monopolist lays down. As a result, the chicken farmers “own” the dirty and expensive parts of the poultry business while Tyson controls the profitable portions, and there’s no way for the farmers to get ahead. People who used to be employees with benefits are now expected to bear the cost of their own employment.

Frances McDormand plays Fern in Chloé Zhao’s Nomadland, based on the 2017 book by Jessica Bruder.

Chickenization has spread throughout the economy. Uber drivers completely depend on the company’s largesse to assign them rides, but they are stuck with the cost of maintaining their own cars. When Leonard visited towns in Arkansas whose economies are dominated by Tyson, he called it “feudalism by another name.”

In Nomadland, Fern (Frances McDormand) is experiencing the endgame for the fully chickenized worker. She and her husband lived in Empire, Nevada, where they both worked in the same gypsum plant. Fern’s middle-class lifestyle suffered a fatal one-two punch when her husband died unexpectedly and the plant shut down. With the town’s sole economic engine gone, everyone moved on, and her home, which represented all of her wealth, became worthless overnight.

Fern sells what she can, puts the rest in storage, and buys a van. She roams through the American West, going from one seasonal contract job to another. When the story opens, she is working the Christmas rush at an Amazon fulfillment center and living, along with dozens of other members of the precariat class, in an Amazon-subsidized RV park.

Is there a purer example of the Orwellian use of language in late-stage capitalism than “fulfillment center”? It sounds positively transcendental. But the reality is a vast, bleak building powered by disposable people.

Fern’s predicament is driven home early in director Chloé Zhao’s film. Laid off as soon as the holidays subside, and unceremoniously informed she’s being evicted from the trailer park, she spends New Year’s Eve alone, wearing a battered “Happy New Year!” tiara while passing out sparklers to her neighbors.

As the trailer park exodus begins, Fern learns of a gathering of nomads in the Arizona desert, run by real-life van-dwelling YouTuber, Bob Wells. In the remarkable scenes that close out the film’s first act, Fern learns survival skills and, for the first time in a long time, feels like she’s part of a community. She also meets Dave (David Strathairn), a ruggedly good-looking nomad who takes an interest in her.

Like Hillbilly Elegy, Nomadland was adapted from a nonfiction book about the ignored and rapidly growing American underclass. But Nomadland lives up to the social realist tradition of The Grapes of Wrath by portraying Fern’s quiet dignity. McDormand’s performance might just be the best of her storied career.

Zhao’s direction has one foot in the DIY underground. She and McDormand took to the van life for months during filming, capturing scenes set in real places, like the famous South Dakota roadside mecca, Wall Drug. Spectacular vistas of little-seen parts of the American landscape representing the freedom of the open road contrast with the dreary reality of the small towns where Fern scrambles to find work and keep her van running. When Fern is finally forced to swallow her pride and ask for help, there is real tension. Will she choose the illusion of self-sufficiency or a modicum of comfort and security at the cost of dependence on others?

Messy, morally complex, and never less than moving, Nomadland brings to mind Ma Joad’s final words: “They can’t wipe us out, they can’t lick us. We’ll go on forever, Pa, ’cause we’re the people.”

Nomadland is showing at Malco Paradiso, and streaming on Hulu starting Feb. 19.