Review: "The Holdovers" A Heartwarming Remedy to A Frigid Cinematic Winter

In a dark time for movies, Alexander Payne gives us an unconventional dose of Christmas cheer.

December 4, 2023

We all have different tastes, in everything and everyone. With over 8 billion people on this blue and green ball, there are innumerable ways to enjoy all the world offers.

This means many things, but to discuss Alexander Payne’s new film, The Holdovers, it means recognizing the only incorrect form of consumption: insincerity.

Payne is not humble; if watching his films hadn’t made that clear, watch his interviews. Discussing films is less a tribute to his inspirations than a poorly constructed monument to his ego. He’s a thesaurus fetishist, always tacking on those pesky adverb-adjectives combos where a simple reflection would suffice. It’s pretension at its most insufferable and renders his products mediocre.

Perhaps through life's natural course, where many get mellowed by aging, he’s come around. The adoration for needless wordplay remains, but an appreciation for something more meaningful has emerged.

We often mistake adventurousness for superiority, exalting things only for trying something new. Alas, the best thing any creation can be is good, so we often find ourselves craving familiarity. For example, a Korean-French fusion bistro may intrigue conceptually, but it can't compare to your grandmother’s lasagna. No matter where you go, the tomato sauce doesn’t have the same zip, the herbs don’t pack the same punch, and the creamy ricotta doesn’t have the same richness.

Ah, to be home again.

The Holdovers is in no way experimental. Teacher Paul Hunham, assigned to oversee the students at a New England boarding school with nowhere to return for the 1970 Christmas break, gets left with Angus Tully, an acid-tongued teenager with enough angst for five puberties. In many respects, he’s simply a younger version of Hunham, whose similarly sharp mouth and abrasiveness make him unpopular with students and faculty.

The pair are separated predominantly by a generational gap, and therein lies the movie's genius. We often see the older curmudgeon transformed by his relationship with a younger polar opposite; in that sense, The Holdovers is a more sophisticated Up.

Instead, it challenges its characters differently, forcing them to grow for the same reasons they struggle to connect. Both men are intelligent and articulate and use those traits to rationalize their feelings of superiority. These sentiments inspire defiance in Angus and incredulity in Hunham, but as the two get forced to interact more, often finding their bridges gapped by Mary, the grieving cook who’s lost her son to the Vietnam War, they find mutual respect for each other's intellect, which is directly tied to their emotions like few films understand. We often separate logic and emotion, never realizing they aren't mutually exclusive. Most feelings are logical and rooted in how our brains connect the dots in a way that makes sense to us, and usually in general.

Genuine kinship forms by finding like souls and allowing our deviations to foster growth, but everything stems from what initially bonded us. It’s easier to build a cinematic bond through ideological opposition, but as with anything in life, the easier path is less rewarding. The Holdovers, though seemingly unchallenging, takes a tougher road to greatness and thus makes for a more authentic journey. Hunham and Tully develop mutual respect and understanding because of their similarities, not their differences; they find commonality within their commonality, not by having one warp the other. It’s a subtle humanity the film prides itself on even when it shouldn’t.

The Holdovers is so intent on resisting this trap that it sacrifices the few moments where it could’ve hit something deeper. As Mary stands in the kitchen at a Christmas party a colleague has invited her, Paul, and Angus to, the reality of her son’s death finally takes hold. She briefly externalizes her recognition before the film cuts to the three’s departure outside, where Paul chastises Angus and references his father’s unwillingness to parent him. Angus says that his father is dead.

Mary’s subsequent derision of Hunham’s conduct and the sadness of Angus’ reveal is sold as a big moment. Yet, the one before, a scene of revelation for the character we most sympathize with, presents a golden opportunity. Payne mistook capitalizing on that moment as a cheap grab at the heartstrings. Although many films overdo those moments, Payne’s efforts show the talent to seize the moment without condescending to your audience or foundationally altering the tone of your movie. Sadly, he didn't realize it. The film makes Mary a character deserving of her big moment but never gives it to her.

If The Holdovers had leaned into its few emotional openings, it’d have been a more moving experience, especially true considering how much the early parts feel unnecessary. The budding rivalry between Angus and Teddy, an insensitive, antagonistic brat, finds neither development nor resolution. Although the conversation between Paul and Angus, where the latter encourages the former to reach deeper with his students, weaponizing wisdom instead of inundating with insults, proves a highlight, Paul returns to the classroom with the same contempt for his students as previously possessed.

We could conjure something about not changing overnight or how only a select few earn the right to our story and thus ourselves, a lesson Paul imparts to Angus after a run-in with an old schoolmate. Unfortunately, that lesson isn't worth something a tad more traditional; a total reversal of approach would’ve strained credulity, but a glimmer of a new dawn would’ve done wonders.

Regardless, such flaws are worth noting in the bigger picture: even with errors that prevented it from reaching its full potential, The Holdovers holds up under that weight, something most movies cannot do. It’s a movie that moves you not by trying to move you or completely reinventing the wheel but by letting you watch a story with nothing to it but the story. That’s the magic of movies and of all storytelling: if we allow a story to speak for itself, magnifying its inherent qualities instead of distracting us from them with pointless gimmicks and self-importance, we create something truly memorable. Much like with people, that which prioritizes style lacks substance.

Thank goodness for that former principle and the film’s insistence on honoring it. The trailer emphasizes Hunham’s observation that “the world is a bitter and complicated” place, giving the impression that it’s nothing more than a trailer movie, one where isolated dialogue targets an audience looking for something on which to project. But in context, it’s a shining moment, though not a memorable one, an odd compliment for a movie. Like a classic recipe, The Holdovers is more a comfort than a memory. It’s unaffected and so cannot affect us in the wrong ways.

No scene will stick with you long after the credits finish rolling, no line will get quoted for decades, and even its characters won’t sear into the memory. But within that is the experience of that oft-told adage: people won’t remember what you said, they won’t remember what you did, but they will remember how you made them feel, and that’s the most important thing of all.