Balancing laughter, tenderness, sorrow, ‘The Holdovers’ becomes a Christmas classic
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Grainy landscape photography invites us into the wintery 1970 setting of Barton Academy, a New England boys’ prep school in “The Holdovers.” In these opening moments of director Alexander Payne’s latest film, he lulls us into a false sense of security before revealing his full hand – its grouchy history teacher protagonist who openly calls his students “reprobates” and “philistines.”
This curmudgeon, Paul Hunham (Paul Giamatti), is hated by his students, all of whom he belittles and punishes for even the most minuscule pushback. Hunham believes it is his responsibility to turn these boys into gentlemen, no matter how strictly he must treat them. Giamatti seizes the spotlight almost immediately with his character’s pretentious ramblings about the Roman Empire and constant, gleeful ridicule of prep school brats.
Much like Hunham’s harsh interactions with students, “The Holdovers” is about how our implicit judgments of people trivialize the world around us and disconnect us from each other. His Scrooge-like cynicism toward the world is ultimately a mask that hides a rich backstory of failure and insecurity.
He gradually reveals his inner self as he is forced to watch over four “holdover” students at Barton who are unable to go home during Christmas break. One student is Angus Tully (Dominic Sessa), whose mother and stepfather abandoned him to go on a honeymoon during the holiday break. They are also accompanied by Mary Lamb (Da’Vine Joy Randolph), the school’s cook who recently lost her son to the Vietnam War.
Hunham sees this position as a punishment for his cruel teaching methods, which his fellow faculty members also disapprove of, and imposes rigorous academic study sessions and exercises out in the cold on the students. “Being here with you is already one big detention,” exclaims Tully.
Tully is left alone with Hunham and Mary when the other three holdovers are given permission by their parents to go on a ski trip. From there, Payne displays the contradictions in the three central characters’ judgments of each other. Hunham empathizes with the grieving Mary yet he chastises Tully for being “spoiled” without knowing that the boy lost his father.
Forced to open up to each other due to their proximity, the characters’ dynamics are written beautifully, cleverly and often humorously to reveal much about their innermost feelings without over-expository dialogue.
In one sequence, Hunham must take Tully to a hospital after chasing the boy around the school trying to give him detention; Tully crashes into equipment in the gym and dislocates his arm. Hunham is now forced to take care of a student he hates, providing nuance to their otherwise antagonistic relationship.
The supporting performances are equally as textured as Giamatti’s, contributing to the film’s humor and emotional core. Sessa, a student of one of the private schools where the film was shot, has a balancing act of appearing as an entitled, ill-mannered kid while hiding deep family abandonment and self-pity for his erratic disobedience. He conveys the character so accurately that in certain moments, his facial expressions say it all for him.
Randolph also carries so much of the film’s emotional weight with her character, whose grief can be felt almost every second she’s on screen. She holds her own against Giamatti by leveraging her character’s sadness into striking moments of wisdom.
Mary frequently calls out Hunham’s strictness, sometimes through humor – her son also hated Hunham – and other times through stern, tough love when he is far too cruel to Tully. Randolph gives courage and vulnerability to Mary’s pain but makes sure she isn’t totally defined by the past.
Payne immerses us in both the turmoils and catharsis of his characters with gorgeous cinematography. He uses wide images of students playing in the snow and faculty wandering to class amid the winter wonderland of Barton’s campus. The hallways of the school’s interior feel much colder from their emptiness, yet the film’s glowy lighting radiates warmth and accentuates minute gestures or facial expressions.
“The Holdovers” finds ample time for play, laughter, and tenderness within its sorrow. Payne creates an authentic world wherein characters have space to simply live and meander, with Damien Jurado’s “Silver Joy” soothing us along the way. Though Payne himself is nauseated by the term “cozy” when used to describe this film, it is undeniable that “The Holdovers” finds comfort in flawed characters who grow to recognize each other’s inherent goodness.
The film is a modern-day Christmas classic which is more in the vein of “Dead Poets Society,” another melancholic New England prep school tale, than the explicit holiday cheer of “Elf” or “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.” It will go perfectly alongside a mug of hot chocolate, a crackling fireplace and a New England snow.
