by Matthew Crump, Staff Writer

The holiday season is perhaps the most emotionally charged time of the year. On the surface level it conjures up the familial love and warmth that we plaster across everything from billboards to the cursive scrawl inside glittery cards. Underneath all of that though, there is often a pervasive gloom for those broken bonds we don’t see represented in the slew of garish seasonal advertisements. Phrases like “Season’s greetings” or “Happy holidays” are so threadbare that they rarely even crack a smile, let alone repair family estrangement.

Thankfully, some sad schmuck had the bright idea to create a genre known as the Christmas Movie. This half-hearted remedy for the winter blues has been so wildly successful that there are now entire networks dedicated to churning out a steady stream of holiday “cheer.” So then, why isn't there a Thanksgiving movie genre?

Sure, we don’t get as much time off from work to wallow in our pity, but I’d still argue that the dreaded third Thursday is equally as depressing as any of the holidays December has to offer. If you need convincing, just think about that one casserole on the table that no one has touched... Now think about the person who brought it. Need I say more?

But never fear! There is at least one sad schmuck who has come to our rescue and his name is Peter Hedges. One decade after his introductory film What’s Eating Gilbert Grape? (1993), Hedges wrote and directed the indie drama Pieces of April (2003) for which he was paid $20. You read that right, 20 smackeroonies. That’s definitely one way to spot indie filmmaking. It’s also how I know he’s a sad schmuck.

In all honesty though, he really shouldn’t be, because this film is a marvel. It tracks the titular character on Turkey Day as she tries to prepare for her estranged, affluent family from a Pennsylvania suburb to invade her tiny one-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn. There are just two major issues: her mom has cancer and the oven is broken. 

As April (Katie Holmes) oven hops between different next-door-stranger’s kitchens, her mom (Patricia Clarkson) is looking for every roadside excuse to avoid the inevitable last encounter from her “first pancake” daughter. All the while, April’s boyfriend Bobby (Derek Luke) is out trying to find a new suit so he can make the best first impression possible.

If this movie is starting to sound like a tearjerker, you’d be right. However, much like our lead protagonist, this movie also offers so much more. You might shed a tear or two by the time the credits have rolled, but I guarantee you’ll also have had more than a few laughs. Hedges tows the line between the holiday-patented emotional charge we discussed earlier, and life’s everyday humor in the most revealing and compelling way possible.

A perfect example of this is a scene in the car crammed with April’s brother, sister, dad, grandma, and dying mother. The wild card attitude that her mom has adopted during the swan song of her life has now manifested as a lamentation of her oldest daughter, saying, “I only have one nice April memory. Only one. She was about three or four. She was sitting at the window. And she turned to me and said, ‘Oh mother, don’t you just love every day?’”  

The audience, who only knows the early 2000s grunge version of April who haphazardly stuffs turkeys in a manner that can only be described as x-rated, feels their heart swell at the image of her childhood innocence. That swell then crests as you realize how frayed this mother/daughter relationship must have been to leave only one good memory in its wake. Just as your heart threatens to break in the silence following Patricia Clarkson’s oscar-nominated performance, the chipper, uptight daughter (Alison Pill) pipes up from the backseat: “That was me.”

By the time the scene is over, the car has decided the only good memory of April is one where she was sleeping, effectively leaving the audience with laughter in their belly and their heart in the pit of their stomach. This kind of emotional pull is something Hedges intentionally creates, saying of his past films that he doesn’t want to create an escape from life but an opportunity to embrace it. The fact that he did this just as effectively on a couple hundred thousand dollars as he did on the 11 million dollar budget of What’s Eating Gilbert Grape? is worth heralding.

Despite Patricia Clarkson’s recognition from the Academy Awards, Katie Holmes' performance is the one that really carries the pathos throughout the film. Whether she’s begging a neighbor to use their oven, thanking a neighbor for using their oven, or stealing back her turkey from a neighbor who has cut off access to their oven, she exudes an air of empathy and vulnerability beneath her grungy veneer. 

The scene that encapsulates April’s depth best is when she is trying to translate the story of the first Thanksgiving to her non-English speaking neighbors. First she fumbles her words, opting for a version of the story that is too puerile and picturesque, ending up distracted by how hard the last year has been for her. She tries again with a version that acknowledges the genocide of Native Americans which, while certainly more honest, is perhaps not the most couth way to show gratitude to a family who is letting you borrow their oven. Finally, she settles on a version that not only seems to be the crux of the film, but hopefully gives the viewer the strength to make it through this holiday season.

“Once there was this one day where everybody seemed to know they needed each other. This one day when they knew for certain they couldn’t do it alone.” The film’s final moments, surrounded by the kindness of family and strangers alike, remind us that no matter how much we might dread the anticipation of cooking that dish, making that drive, or talking to that family member, our time with each other is fleeting, and should always be cherished. Happy Thanksgiving.