“The Holdovers” Is like a big hug from an old, grumpy friend
I've spent a lot of time in the last year wondering about the state of cinema. Not necessarily whether it will "die," because I think there will always be a certain amount of space for authentic and meaningful cinema in the same way that there is still some space for vinyl despite having more accessible options. But I wondered what stories would be told.
What era of cinema did we enter into after the pandemic? Looking at any time period, you'll see that most movies tend to reflect something about our cultural needs, which sometimes can create a valuable dialogue, and other times it can make us believe that all men need to look like Sylvester Stallone to be considered real men, or that it's only okay to be single in the big city if we look like Meg Ryan. My point is that our films can heavily influence us for better or worse, and in the current state of the world, we really need that influence to be positive.
It's kind of ironic to discuss this topic regarding The Holdovers, a movie that, in pretty much every regard, is designed to appear as if it was made in 1970 when the film's story takes place. The digital footage has been altered and graded to appear more like a Hal Ashby film, and we're presented with cross dissolves and zooms that have very rarely been part of the mainstream cinematic language of the 21st century. So, how exactly can I claim a movie like this represents a larger cultural movement in cinema? Well, this film has a key crucial element which it shares with other recent films like "Past Lives", "All Of Us Strangers", and "After Yang". These films aren't designed for us to escape. They're designed for us to feel seen.
It's certainly not new to have films designed to be unflashy portrayals of a life we can relate to, but in these last few years, I've seen a massive surge in films that are willing to acknowledge the darkest truths of our lives, but still give us hope. Not fake "movie" hope about fighting hard and entering a motivational YouTube montage, but the genuine comfort of being allowed to slow down, take everything in, and grieve whatever we have lost.
This film felt like a warm hug from a dear friend who has zero ignorance towards your hardships, but they're not going to let that stop them from hugging you. And the realism actually helps. These characters don't change from assholes to saints over the course of two weeks. But as we walk away from these characters, we have a sense of depth that lets us look at their crumbyness with compassion, and we're shown that they're just a little wiser for the count. To me, that realistic message is far more comforting than an unattainable story about someone turning their life around overnight. The same can be said about a lot of recent films.
Since the pandemic, I'd like to believe people as a whole have become much more aware of mental health and probably more introspective as a result. Pair that with the natural anxieties we may have about the world, and I think a lot of us feel a desperate need for art which allows us to explore ourselves without sacrificing all our energy. We don't necessarily want to leave a theatre feeling devastated, or spend 90 minutes squirming in our seats. Maybe it'd do us all some good to spend that time winding down. Not avoiding our lives or our feelings, but exploring them in a welcoming environment. That's the gift which I feel modern cinema can provide us with, and the thought of that makes me very hopeful.
