The best movie for the self-proclaimed dysfunctional family: The Holdovers
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]
The best movie for a self-loathing family following a nice turkey dinner: Chicken Run
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]
The best movie for a family attempting to maintain dignity under the specter of fascism: The Grand Budapest Hotel
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]
The best movie to watch when you want to eat more but physically can’t: The Taste Of Things
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]