the teacher, the student, and the cook

 One thing that I like about semester breaks is that I have a lot of time to catch up on my reading and watchlist. Recently, I watched The Holdovers, and it's been sitting with me ever since. At first, I didn't expect much. I've watched a lot of films, but I don't usually write about them afterwards. This is one of those movies that sneaks under your skin and makes you think about it for days. By the time it ended, I realized it had reminded me why I love films and cinema so much. I haven't felt this way about a movie in a long time, and it's definitely up there among my favorites now. 

Set during a snowy Christmas break in the 1970s, the film follows three characters who are left behind for different reasons when everyone else goes home: a grumpy teacher, a troubled student, and a grieving cafeteria worker.

At the center of the story is Paul Hunham, a strict, bitter history teacher who seems to enjoy being disliked. He’s overly proud of his intelligence, obsessed with rules, and completely emotionally closed off. He's hard to sympathize with at first. He talks down to everyone and there is just no warmth to him at all. But as the film progresses, it becomes clear that Paul’s cruelty is less about power and more about protection. He has spent his life being excluded, overlooked, and humiliated. Therefore, being harsh is the only way he knows how to survive. He believes that if he loosens his grip even a little, he’ll be hurt again.

Then there’s Angus, the student Paul is forced to supervise over the holidays. Angus is angry, sarcastic, and constantly acting up, but it’s very obvious that his behavior comes from deep emotional neglect. His mother has chosen a vacation over him, leaving him behind at school during Christmas without a second thought. His father is out of the picture and is mentioned to be in a psychiatric hospital. So, he can't live with him or rely on him in any real way. His mother has remarried and built a new life, which makes him feel even more pushed aside. Angus isn’t just upset about being alone; he’s hurt by the realization that he’s not a priority. Watching Angus, you realize how damaging emotional absence can be, especially when it comes from the people who are supposed to care for you most.

I loved seeing the relationship between Paul and Angus develop naturally. There’s no sudden bonding montage or dramatic breakthrough moment. Instead, their connection grows through shared silence, arguments, meals, and small conversations. Paul slowly begins to see himself in Angus. Not just his intelligence, but his loneliness. And Angus, in turn, realizes that Paul’s harshness hides a strange kind of care. Their relationship isn’t perfect or even gentle; it’s just real.

Then there's Mary. I love Mary. She completely stole my heart. She's the school cook, who is the emotional heart of the film. She has lost her son to the Vietnam War, and unlike Paul, she doesn’t hide from her grief. She carries it quietly, showing up to work, cooking meals, and offering kindness without making a show of it. She carries so much grief, yet she doesn’t let it harden her. Instead, she shows quiet, steady kindness to both Paul and Angus. She’s warm, compassionate, and the kind of person who notices pain without judging it. She offers care without making a show of it. Watching her interact with Paul and Angus felt like watching someone quietly hold a room together even when everything else is falling apart. She reminded me that strength doesn’t always come from being loud or in control. Sometimes, it comes from simply being present, being patient, and caring for someone when no one else will. Honestly, Mary is the kind of character I wish I could meet in real life. She grounds the film. She represents a different kind of strength, the kind that comes from acknowledging pain instead of burying it. Through her, the film reminds us that grief doesn’t make someone weak, and that compassion doesn’t need to be loud to be meaningful.

The most beautiful thing about The Holdovers is how it portrays “found family.” The film shows how even temporary moments of care can leave a lasting impact. Sometimes, the people who change us the most are the ones we never expected to matter so much. I think that is the kind of concept this movie is going for. At least that's how I see it.

The film's ending is quiet but moving. Paul makes a choice that costs him something real because it’s the right thing to do. It’s a moment that shows just how far he’s come. He finally chooses kindness over pride and empathy over bitterness. And while his future remains uncertain, his growth is earned.

What made this movie especially emotional for me was Angus being the youngest one in the group. He’s still a child, even though everyone treats him like he should already know how to cope. Paul has built walls around himself for decades. Mary has learned how to live with grief. Angus hasn’t had the time to develop either of those defenses. He’s still raw. He's still reacting. Still hoping, even when he pretends he doesn’t care. Watching him get left behind during Christmas felt cruel in a very specific way because he’s too young to fully understand why the people who are supposed to choose him don’t do so.

There’s something especially heartbreaking about seeing a child act up because they don’t have the language for their pain yet. Angus is labeled “difficult,” “troubled,” and “disrespectful,” but beneath all of that is a hurt kid who just wants reassurance. Someone to stay. Someone to say, "I choose you." His anger feels less like rebellion and more like grief in its earliest form. And because he’s the youngest, his loneliness feels heavier. He hasn’t had the chance to grow numb to it yet.

That’s why the moments where Paul shows up for Angus, even imperfectly, hit so hard. They make me cry. Angus doesn’t need a perfect guardian or a dramatic rescuer. He just needs one adult who doesn’t walk away when things get uncomfortable. Seeing him slowly realize that Paul isn’t leaving and that someone is finally staying is one of the most quietly powerful parts of the film. It reminded me how deeply children absorb abandonment, and how much it means when someone chooses to protect them, even briefly. I won’t lie, by the time some of the tender moments hit, I was in tears. Watching Angus struggle with being left behind, feeling invisible and unloved, while Mary quietly offered him warmth and Paul slowly softened, it all just broke something open inside me. The tears were a mix of empathy, relief, and awe at how a film could capture human emotion so perfectly. I felt every little heartbreak and act of kindness with them. 

By the end of The Holdovers, I felt a strange mix of sadness and hope. Sadness for the loneliness these characters have carried, but hope for the small connections that can change a life, even if just a little. Angus, Paul, and Mary reminded me that people are rarely perfect, but even flawed, overlooked, or broken individuals can choose kindness, show care, and leave a mark on each other.  I live for films like this that remind me why feeling deeply is okay and that it still matters. I know it will always be among my favorites.