The Holdovers… kind of a movie critique.

Shayne and I went to see the Holdovers last night. I’d seen the previews and it seemed a little like a cross between Dead Poet’s Society and the Breakfast Club. I am interested in films about single sex boarding schools because I went to one and the footage I saw seemed intriguing. Shayne likes action adventure movies more, but he is usually down for nachos, so unless the film is overtly a cry festival, he’ll see whatever I suggest.

The theater downtown has been “renovated.” The new owner was talking to a few people in the seats about the changes they made. He said that originally the theater held 900 people and now with the spacious seating it barely holds 250. I remember those tight seats. It gave me a moment to realize that I have been going to that theater for fifty years and have a lot of memories. Shayne was busy looking at his phone at the Lion/Bronco game during this. The score was zero/zero. I had forgotten the football game was on a Saturday night when I suggested the movie. But I was also a little afraid the lions were going to tear up the horses and maybe Shayne didn’t need to see the play by play of that. And if the Broncos were winning, the movie would be over in the final minutes of the game. That’s when the magic happens anyway. So….Shayne put his phone away, and the lights went down.

The movie was great, except there was a scene where the characters visit a mental health institution. The film takes place in 1970, so there are bars on the windows and at first, I thought maybe it was a jail, but then I realized the next character on the screen was going to have a mental health illness, probably schizophrenia. Yep. The male actor played a flat affect, and his only lines spoke to his paranoia. After the scene there was a little exposition about how the main character felt about watching his dad become ill. I glanced over at Shayne and he had tears on his cheeks. I haven’t seen him cry since my parents were killed. I asked him if he wanted to leave and he shook his head and kinda smiled at me through the tears.

I thought we’d talk about how he felt after the movie, but Shayne immediately checked the football game just as the Broncos had a penalty on the last touchdown attempt and we heard the final score. He roared in frustration, then went for a run. It was dark and cold, but running silences the voices.

I am still thinking about the movie. I really, really hate how most films interpret schizophrenia. Some of it is right, but some of it is so wrong. I hate the implied violence. I hate the fear that half information breeds. People might come away from that film thinking people with schizophrenia are violent zombies. In reality, the layers are so much more complex. There is nothing one dimensional about it.

Shayne brought breakfast up to me this morning. I asked him if he was okay. He said he was sad the Broncos lost, but if Detroit was going to the Super Bowl that they better be able to blow a team like Denver out of the water. He was wearing his Russell Wilson jersey though, representing all the way. I asked him if he was still upset over the movie. He shrugged and said, “It was pretty damn depressing. I was crying because you never stop believing in me, even when you should.” I told him that maybe we should write our own movie. He arched his eyebrows and said, “Maybe. At least it would have some punch lines.” Then he turned to leave on his run, but stopped and said, “I bet you liked the movie. The teacher becomes a writer.” Huh. I guess he does.

I am not sure if The Holdovers will become a classic holiday film, but I am glad we went to see it. It reminded me of tradition, connection, and love in unexpected places. It asks us to believe and to hope and to shine, but in a real way with all of our flaws and secrets. It was just the thing I needed to remind me of how grateful I am for all that I am blessed with.