From Holyn ThigpenDecember 20, 11:00 UTC • 6 mins

The term “instant classic” is sometimes used too loosely for films. (Someone just saw it somewhere Moana 2 and thought, “Wow, this is cinema now.”) But some films deserve such acclaim, and as the weather gets colder – and the time-honored tradition of watching lightly eggnog-infused films reaches its peak – I can imagine it a film that truly deserves its place as a holiday classic. That’s right, that’s what I’m talking about The leftovers.

Alexander Payne’s 1970s period piece about a curmudgeonly prep teacher (Paul Giamatti) and the precocious student he has to mentor during the Christmas holidays (Dominic Sessa) was immediately canonized upon its release in November 2023. Critics called it “the ideal annual holiday rerun.” and “a sad Christmas classic.”

Even a year later, the mood remains strong. Despite its short lifespan, the film already feels synonymous with holiday warmth and comfort. It’s the cinematic equivalent of a cup of steamed milk or a Burl Ives Christmas album: the perfect accessory when cookies are in the oven and ugly sweater parties are on the horizon. No wonder fans are already waiting for a new edition. (An early snowfall and the first day of December, among other events, were considered evidence of the official beginning “Remnants Season.”)

“It’s the kind of movie that felt like it had always been there,” says Reggie Uwu, a New York Times Arts reporter who spoke to Giamatti last year about his experience making the film. “The overall aesthetic makes it seem like an artifact, even though it was filmed in 2022.”

As Payne said in an interview last year: “To a certain extent I’ve tried to make ’70s films throughout my career. But on (The leftovers), I tried to take it a step further and, to some extent, create the illusion that it was actually made in the 70s.”

The result is a wonderfully meticulous recreation of the culture and motifs of the time. “It feels wistful,” says Uwu. “This more analog time – a time before the internet – is a time when people were forced to talk to each other, and it’s easy to feel nostalgia for that.”

In fact, The leftovers relies on that sense of nostalgia to secure a place in a lens-filled holiday movie landscape. This year alone, Hallmark will release over 30 Christmas films. Over and beyond The leftovers has to compete with the established classics of the genre. We’re talking about Will Ferrell in a pointed hat, Jimmy Stewart begging angels, and a leg lamp covered in fishnet stockings. But where The leftovers Of particular note is the way it captures the ever-present feeling of Christmas nostalgia without adding any shiny cheerfulness.

Interviews with the creators of “The Holdovers”

Interviews with the creators of “The Holdovers”

“The 1970s were the first time that people became cynical and questioned a lot of things that had always been sort of accepted,” says Maureen Lenker, senior writer at Weekly entertainment. “Right now we live in a time where a lot of popular things are set in the 1970s and people are drawn to that time. And I don’t know if it’s because it’s our parents’ time or parallels between our world today, but it’s probably a mix of those things.”

By combining wistful memories of the decade – wood paneling, tiny TVs, even a sexy little Chevy II Nova – with more sobering, timeless themes, The leftovers feels simultaneously familiar and quaintly distant. It’s the rare film that allows us to appreciate and even aestheticize the past without looking back at it with a rosy look.

For younger generations, it is reassuring to know that previous cohorts also had their own share of uncertainty and upheaval. In The leftoversthe specter of Vietnam looms poignantly over Mary (Da’Vine Joy Randolph), whose son died in combat – he couldn’t get a deferment like his richer (whiter) colleagues from Barton Academy. Sessa’s character Angus has a strained relationship with his father, illustrating the changing conversations about depression and mental health treatment. Meanwhile, Giamatti’s character Paul begins to grapple with his own antiquated ideas and routines and slowly immerses himself in the loosening social norms of the ’70s.

The film doesn’t ignore the decade’s shortcomings and explores themes of race and class through the insular world of its ragtag characters. “It has a greater social conscience than you normally see in films from or about this decade,” says Uwu. “A little more attention to what was Strictly speaking what happened in the 1970s.” While Payne shows his characters’ moments of triumph and determination, he also doesn’t shy away from capturing the inherent sadness of their circumstances. The joy of Christmas does not erase its brokenness.

Unlike other holiday classics The leftovers is not a family story – at least not in the traditional sense. Paul, Mary and Angus are all estranged from their “real” families in different ways and as a result form their own makeshift family. “This is a group of people kind of pushed together, in a school setting. We haven’t really seen anything like that in this genre,” says Lenker.

The film embraces the concept of found family in all its imperfections, subtly conveying the growing affection that underscores its characters’ interactions and impromptu holiday celebrations. Even Paul’s gift of Meditations from Marcus Aurelius to Angus and Mary is a surprisingly serious example of the characters’ developing bond. Paul is completely unaware of his companions’ indifference to Stoic philosophy, but that he even attempts to connect with them in this way is evidence of a change in his character; a softening of his attitude toward their shared circumstances. “For my money it’s like the Bible, the Koran and the Bhagavad Gita all rolled into one,” he tells Angus. This is Paul’s expression of affection, and even in Angus’s puzzled response (“OK…thanks”), we sense that he, too, recognizes this gesture as an olive branch.

It is also important The leftovers appeals to all ages and captures the experiences of multiple generations with equal care and complexity. “It’s really a difficult balance, and this film achieves it,” says Uwu. “It takes its characters seriously and doesn’t dumb down the emotions.” Fifteen-year-old Angus’s problems are treated with as much credibility as those of Paul or Mary. His rebellious angst and complicated family life are portrayed – through Sessa’s moving performance and Payne’s direction – with empathy and understanding.

Nate Carlson, who designed the fantastic retro studio logos shown at the beginning of the film, says it was important to him to capture the film’s universality in these designs, which immediately immerse audiences in its time-warping atmosphere and yet feel new. (Unsurprisingly, Miramax loved them.)

“As a child of the ’70s myself, the aesthetic of that era is deeply rooted in me and was captured so perfectly in the film,” says Carleson. “I wanted to stay true to that (in the designs), but also make it so that a younger audience could appreciate it. It resonated with a wide audience and I’m grateful for that.”

The The leftovers is at once so nostalgic and so universal, and a testament to Payne’s love for his medium; He understands that a film can embody a time period without indulging in it pointlessly. “What sets the film apart is that it has a bittersweet ending…it’s more melancholic,” says Lenker. “Unlike other Christmas films that tend to clarify things, it leaves some sense of sadness or loss.”

So if Remnants The season is already being proclaimed from rooftops – both by Generation Z and Baby Boomers – and that’s a testament to the beauty of a more thoughtful holiday film than we’re used to. The leftovers is a period film that does not respect its setting and, just as notably, a Christmas film that does not extol the virtues of Christmas. This is a film full of disappointments and disagreements; Curses, insults and dislocated shoulders.

“The humanity of the film — it captures the range of emotions that I think a lot of people experience around the holidays,” Uwu says. “These characters are very different. But they still come together and find a certain kinship and a certain mutual respect, and that idea is a little nostalgic. One would hope that such people can get along and support each other in times of need.”

Holyn Thigpen

Holyn Thigpen is a Brooklyn-based arts and culture writer. She has an MA in English from Trinity College Dublin and spends her free time Googling Nicolas Cage.