Despite what plenty of SEO-chasing articles may try to tell you, there is no single perfect post-Thanksgiving meal movie that will suit every household. From those families diving deep into a shared tryptophan haze to those less traditional celebrants whose meals and festivities don’t look a thing like a Charlie Brown TV special, the cinematic needs of holiday merrymakers will necessarily depend on the people involved. So, rather than partake in a futile pursuit of perfection, The A.V. Club decided to present a cornucopia of tasty options tailored to some common experiences when groups of assorted loved ones gather for a day of eating, arguing, and screen-staring. What movie should you watch this Thanksgiving? Well, it depends on what kind of Thanksgiving you’re having this year. Here are five options that cover some common holiday situations:
Since Warner Bros. Discovery shunted Clint Eastwood’s sensational Juror #2 to a December streaming slot, we figured we could go with another Eastwood masterwork: Unforgiven. This won’t be an easy Thanksgiving, and there is no respite in the blockbusters we’d typically roll into after dinner. Trust us: bringing Star Wars up at the dinner table can get ugly. On the contrary, Eastwood is the great equalizer. Framed as Hollywood’s lone conservative in a sea of liberals, Eastwood’s work is, nevertheless, well-liked across the political spectrum. As Alex Lei recently observed for The A.V. Club, Eastwood’s work is less about Politics and more about the contradictory systems in which flawed humans find themselves ensnared.
Few illustrate his strengths better than Unforgiven. Putting on his hat and spurs one last time (until he cried Macho), Eastwood plays a recovering gunslinger roped back into the business after an attack at a local brothel leaves a sex worker scarred and her career destroyed. As his character grapples with the violent world he helped create, Eastwood faces the cinematic West he helped settle. Despite the grim subject matter, Unforgiven hits many holiday sweet spots: It’s an epic period piece that pairs well with the reflective nature of Thanksgiving and a meaty conversation starter, a Best Picture winner filled with complex characters, and a gripping story that doesn’t invite moral superiority. Moreover, your Republican uncle’s ears will perk up when he hears Eastwood’s name. Sadly for him, Unforgiven doesn’t let any of us off the hook. [Matt Schimkowitz]
There’s a particular strain of family that prides itself on dysfunction. Parents don’t get along with kids, mom doesn’t get along with dad. They’re a happy family in the Ramones sense. But when those dysfunctions become insurmountable, Turkey Day outcasts can find common cause in The Holdovers, Alexander Payne’s tribute to family found where you’re at. Set at a Massachusetts boarding school over winter break, The Holdovers tracks the lonely kids abandoned by their monied parents who would rather not deal with their offspring over holidays. It’s a cruel position for kids who never get to see their families anyway, made even more ruthless under the watchful (wall)eye of teacher Paul Hunham (Paul Giamatti). Angus Tully (Dominic Sessa) is one such holdover, who was ditched by his mother at Christmas and forced to find Yuletide cheer with his stinkiest instructor and the school cook, Mary Lamb (Da'Vine Joy Randolph). But the more time these Holdovers spend with each other, the more they start to resemble a small tribe of their own, railing against the supposedly happy shoppers of Boston or enjoying a stale cookie and a Miller High Life, the Champagne of Beers, when things quiet down. Dysfunction never tasted so good. [Matt Schimkowitz]
What could be more perfectly British than a nice heaping helping of regretful self-loathing? Chicken Run, from Aardman Animation, offers not only a wry riff on prison bust movies like The Great Escape, but a downright terrifying take on industrializing farm practices that might make even the most committed carnivore consider going vegan (at least for the 84-minute runtime). From the opening execution sequence, done with the grisly simplicity of an ax, to the elaborate slapstick mania of the climactic pie-making machine, the plight of these chickens fills the screen, making their need to break free all the more compelling. And, if you’ve just desecrated a poultry carcass with cranberry-stained fingers, more than a little depressing. But Chicken Run also exemplifies the “family” aspect of these movie recommendations: It’s the best of the Disney approach—talking animals running through a classic plot, opposed by a disproportionately dreadful villain—with a bigger brain, a sharper wit, and the kind of filmmaking detail that necessarily accompanies all stop-motion animation. [Jacob Oller]
As is often the case, America is entering uncharted territory. On the cusp of an openly autocratic and fascist government taking office, it can be easy to lose touch with reality. How do we maintain a sense of self amid authoritarian regimes? Looking to history helps, and that’s what Wes Anderson is doing in The Grand Budapest Hotel. Sort of. One of Anderson’s finest outings (in a career full of them), the film sees his first experiments with nesting doll narratives, offering frames within frames that send us backward and forwards in time. The main action concerns M. Gustave (Ralph Fiennes), the legendary concierge of the eponymous hotel, who struggles to maintain the Grand Budapest’s luxury amid a fascist takeover of the fictional country of Zubrowka. By zooming back and forth, Anderson offers a way to explore the before and after of these regimes. But if there’s a rock in the film, it’s M. Gustave’s unwavering devotion to his hotel, guests, and lobby boys—and his refusal to give an inch to these “filthy, goddamn, pock-marked fascist assholes.” Grand Budapest Hotel is a winter wonderland for its snowy European locales and candy-colored interiors, but it’s Gustave’s strength that powers the film. His outbursts of poetic dignity punctured by profane humor offer a simple truth about the current moment: “There are still faint glimmers of civilization left in this barbaric slaughterhouse that was once known as humanity. Indeed that's what we provide in our own modest, humble, insignificant... oh, fuck it.” [Matt Schimkowitz]
They tell you never to go grocery shopping hungry. They should also tell you never to watch The Taste Of Things hungry. But if you want a feast for the eyes, look no further. A phenomenal piece of food porn from filmmaker Trần Anh Hùng (The Scent Of The Green Papaya, The Vertical Ray Of The Sun), this romance blurs the line between seduction and cooking through its patient, ornate depictions of the food-prep process and through the slow-burn heat given off by its leads, former real-life romantic partners Benoît Magimel and Juliette Binoche. The pair play Eugénie and Dodin, 1880s gourmand-chefs living together on a lush French estate. Their love story (and countless meals) unfold across the seasons, and the cuisine evolves alongside their relationship. A big-hearted movie for those with a bottomless appetite for indulgence, The Taste Of Things makes exquisite use of Hùng’s playful framing (a poached pear offers a cheekily memorable visual pun) and dense tableaux. Few movies can make their food look good enough to eat. Fewer still can make their mouthwatering food stand in for the passions of a lifetime. [Jacob Oller]
