“The Holdovers” Review: The Next Holiday Classic

Giamatti, Sessa, and Randolph shine as bright as the north star in this modern Christmas classic.

Any film that uses the word “curmudgeonly” in its bio and is set during the Christmas season is bound to raise inevitable “cliche” allegations. However, The Holdovers, starring Paul Giamatti, Dominic Sessa, and Da’Vine Joy Randolph, is a Christmas classic retold for modern audiences, all while being set in the 70s. Despite this, there is an essential element of displacement. Shots fade or wipe instead of cut, prolonging the never ending winter vacation/prison sentence these characters find themselves in. Their holding cells are classrooms, in which they learn lessons that avoid those accusations by way of universality. The Holdovers is at once new and nostalgic, a trip down memory lane that maintains a thematic significance that leaves the film utterly timeless. This may be the new holiday season great not just for the dazzling cinematography that makes even icy plains and empty classrooms of waxy wood seem warm, but the themes, characters, and story behind the snowy images. These elements harken back to movies rooted in academia and holidays past, with undeniable inspiration from classics such as Dead Poets Society. But, with a tight script and performances perfect for the consistent wit and ever beating heart at this film's core, The Holdovers adds to the universal with careful subversion and inviting homage. 

The film follows Paul Hunham (Giamatti) as the vessel of the distinctly holiday label thast is “curmudgeonly.” A grouchy high school teacher stuck in his arrogance incited by rampant insecurity, he is properly challenged when forced to watch those with nowhere else to go. “The holdovers.” However, Paul cannot give this title to himself. That would imply he had anywhere else to go, or anyone else to see. With a ghost that is constantly mocked by his very surroundings, Paul has isolated himself; a recluse with such bitterness for the world and little authority that he uses whatever ounce of it he has with reckless and ruthless abandon. “Most of them [students] don’t like you. Hate you, you know. You do know that, right?” Facing such a damning question, Paul gives a ho-hum expression only Hunham can, his faux-ambivalence revealing the quiet hurt at this character’s center. This hidden pain, revealed in his contradictory nature, shows the strength of the film’s intertwining cinematic elements. Paul’s nuance is developed in the brilliant screenplay and outstanding performance by Giamatti, who makes Hunham an even more intriguing protagonist beyond his encyclopedic knowledge of world history; a perfect trait for a man stuck in the past, refusing to move for anything or anyone, including himself. Hunham is  walking hypocrisy, and Giamatti manages to present this authoritarian personality as a pitiful mask, one that hints at an emotional center the movie slowly teases out. His dialogue is laced with references to Greek history that are comedic, telling of the character, and so detailed that I’m positive the screenwriter’s research was long and painful. Hunham is at once a protagonist I loved to hate and wanted to love. Luckily, the film doesn’t make any part of its existence difficult to appreciate.

Except that Angus kid! 

Through a series of events, the film presents its first subversion by cutting down the group of holdovers from a squad to a duo: five students to one has made this vacation much more intimate, and painful, for all involved. At least, initially. Angus Tully is played by Sessa with the same emotional weight and implied baggage as Giamatti depicts Hunham, making for two leads that remain consistently interesting for the mystery behind their clearly propped up personalities. Angus is angry and abandoned, making for a facade manifest in masculine bravado and big, intimidating words. The film wants you to know these characters are lying, but not about what, and this balance is maintained with a delicate touch in both writing and cinematography that truly makes The Holdovers more about the character’s than anything else. 

Over their break, the unlikely pairing find themselves consistently dining, laughing, and maybe even partying, with the kitchen manager, Mary Lamb. Lamb has recently lost her son, Curtis, making for a third member in this trio tethered by loneliness. The unexpected emotional glue of the film, Randolph’s performance as Lamb continues to bolster the movie’s themes through a truly warm and inviting performance, that alongside the aforementioned hilarious screenplay, is as comedic as it is tragic.

I spend so much time analyzing these characters and their actors because the movie does as well. While the cinematography delights in stunning wide shots of white vistas and aged academia, intimate close-up’s and 70s quirks combine to create an atmosphere that can’t seem to escape its own warmth by placing character first. Even in the perilous winds, Barton remains a cozy site to behold. The teaching is rigorous, but I bet their hot chocolate and crackling fireplaces make the infinite detentions worth it. All of this to say the cinematography does wonders at establishing a distinct, timeless-yet-70s-inspired atmosphere and aesthetic. The lighting is impeccable: not a shadow is pure black, but rather filled with a light blue or purple. Halation softens the image, and when paired with 35mm grain, replicates the look of your favorite holiday classic. The film further cements itself in nostalgia by incorporating techniques prominent in the 70s: crash zooms and strong use of telephoto lenses work to place this film in an unknown era defined by coziness. However, when crises strike, the cinematography matches with startling dutch angles, demonstrating a clear intention behind the visuals that merrily connect with narrative and theme.

Both of which are not overly complex, but when written by a talent like David Hemingson, are able to resonate with all audiences. The dialogue is consistently witty, the characters all have distinct voices, and the narrative moves at its pace that I found only drags at a few moments. Strong character writing, subtext that is delightful to investigate, and consistent comedy make the themes of familial attachment, abandonment, tradition vs modernity, and creating one’s own future emotionally engaging and well explored. Like Wesley Morris of the New York Times put it, this is a film where a character learning to forge his future inspires another to reflect on his past. Shared insecurity and isolation between the group make the film and script feel incredibly tight on a thematic level, with the aforementioned cinematic elements raising those themes to universally cozy heights.  

Meaning, The Holdovers may remind you of a few holiday annuals. You can’t not think of Scrooge when looking at Hunham, but that is undeniably purposeful. Just like everything else in the film, intention steers this would-be cliche to new heights, maybe even the Mount Rushmore of holiday flicks. I know I’ll be returning to the halls of Barton every year for quite some time. For these characters, that would be a nightmare. I, for one, can’t wait to go back.