Why "The Holdovers" Works
Over the years, I’ve developed a sunk-cost fallacy when watching movies. When I feel moved to rewatch a movie I’ve seen before, I question why I’m not watching a new film instead. Why not find another movie to love? It’s a silly mentality of course; no matter how hard I try, it’s not possible for me to watch all of the incredible movies the world has to offer in one lifetime. Still, my fallacy persists, and I continue to be especially picky about the movies I watch multiple times.
Each year, my mom and I watch Home Alone around Christmas time—whether that be while we’re setting up the tree, cooking dinner for the family, or just sitting in front of the television together dedicating our full attention to eight-year-old Kevin McCallister’s antics. To me, this rewatch is non-negotiable—it’s synonymous with that “Christmas feeling” in my household. It’s been a while now since I’ve been able to replicate the same excitement surrounding the holiday season that prevented me from falling asleep on Christmas Eve night, but watching that movie and indulging in the nostalgia it invokes, comes pretty close. Nostalgia is something that, for a long time, I didn’t believe could be replicated. There must be something about John William’s score, Chris Columbus’s directing, Macaulay Culkin’s delivery, and the fact that it’s not in 4K, all of these things occurring in the same place at that particular moment in time that makes Home Alone so great. There must be something about me seeing that film for the first time with fresher eyes than I have now that made Home Alone so great. I was of the belief that I could not enjoy a holiday film as much as this one because it was not bolstered by having been an integral part of my childhood. Then, I watched Alexander Payne’s The Holdovers.
The Holdovers was released in late October last year and primarily follows Paul Hunham, a deeply intelligent but ill-tempered and cruel history professor at a private school, and one of his most impudent students, Angus Tully. After receiving news that he cannot return home for Christmas, Mr. Hunham and Tully are forced to cohabitate on campus for two weeks during the winter break. Several factors make this film feel “out-of-time” in a way that other modern holiday films do not. The film takes place in the early 1970s, immediately eradicating many of the viewers’ modern concerns. Additionally, while the film isn’t technically shot on film, the cinematographer and colorist—Eigil Bryld and Joe Gawler respectively—were able to make it look as if it were shot on film, giving it even more of a vintage look. But aside from its technical aspects, one thing that works in this film’s favor is that, like many of its successful predecessors, it’s contained. There are only a handful of characters, quite a large portion of the film takes place in one location, and the story is simple. Troubled teacher and troubled student must learn to live together for two weeks on a school campus while their peers enjoy that same time vacationing and spending time with their families. It’s this simplicity that allows all of the other brilliant aspects of this film to develop.
The script, written by David Hemingson, is so sincere. It doesn’t take the viewer long to grow attached to Mr. Hunham and Tully. Before they become likable characters, they’re interesting ones. They make you laugh. So as the story progresses, your affection for them grows simultaneously with the characters’ growing affection with each other. The humor is one of the best parts of the movie—the first third of this film is completely carried by how quick and witty these characters are due both to Hemingson’s writing and Paul Giamatti and Dominic Sessa’s portrayal. At the same time, the script manages to insert this humor without undermining its more tender moments. With conversations about death, sickness, mental illness, and the like later in the film, it’d be easy for less competent creatives to either let these moments dampen the levity that came before or use a joke to impede their emotional weight. Luckily for us, both Alexander Payne and Daniel Hemington understand how to utilize both aspects of this film to create something that’s ultimately very heartwarming. The film does have its darker moments, yes, but it also has a tremendous amount of hope. By the end, both men realize that while yes, they can often be unpleasant, they have the capacity to show a more tender, more loving side of themselves, and more importantly, they’re capable of receiving that same affection.
I didn’t manage to catch The Holdovers during the holiday season last year, rather, I watched it in January on my laptop in an attempt to watch all of the Best Picture nominees before the Academy Awards. While I enjoyed it quite a bit, I wasn’t sure if it would be something I revisited in the future. Going against my inclinations, I watched the film again a few days ago, this time with my mom. Somehow, it was even better than I remembered. I can’t say at this point in time whether or not The Holdovers will occupy the same place in my heart that Home Alone does, but will I will say is that there is a rare warmth to this film I believe everyone can appreciate. It invokes a feeling that satiates our desire to feel like we’re ten years old again— that excited stirring in your stomach that accompanies waking up on Christmas day. It’s a difficult thing to achieve, but Alexander and David have proven to me that it’s not impossible.
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