Those aren’t pillows! – The fantastic frustration of Thanksgiving classic Planes, Trains and Automobiles

In theaters Wednesday: Frozen, Oldboy
New on Blu-ray: Jobs, Red 2

Holidays are a funny thing the way they occupy certain plots of square footage on the cultural map and not others. Already the television dial is flush with Christmas movies. Turkey Day is this Thursday. What about all the Thanksgiving movies? (Insert cheesy record skip here) Well, not so much because, yeah there aren’t really any, even though there are plenty—and good examples—of films set at Thanksgiving. They just don’t happen to be marketed that way, so most audiences don’t remember them that way, either.

Hannah and Her Sisters, Scent of a Woman, Pieces of April—are all worthy dramas that feature the most appreciative of holidays. But my favorite Thanksgiving-set film is a comedy: John Hughes’ 1987 classic Planes, Trains and Automobiles.

It’s as if the writer/director of Sixteen Candles and The Breakfast Club set out to create a modern American Odyssey, one built on the quickly accumulated frustrations of a man simply trying to get home for the holiday feast, and the laughs are unrelenting.

Sure the action is exaggerated, but the humor comes from what is so very recognizable: the clueless and overly bubbly car rental representative, the too-close quarters of flying coach, the talkative barnacle who just won’t take a hint. Planes first nailed these jokes on which many others have built empires, from Seinfeld to Family Guy. And, just to be completely honest, if I ever hear the phrase “between two pillows” I just loose it completely. Can’t deal.

With Planes, what you’re seeing is peak Steve Martin. Steve Martin the straight man. Pre-Father of the Bride Steve Martin. This is the smug, eye-rolling All-American hangdog who has simply had enough. It might have been the last time Martin was truly cool—until he started writing plays and making bluegrass records.

Planes is also the face palming, I-can’t-believe-someone-this-obtuse-exists zenith for John Candy, who would die seven years later only ever coming close to this performance once in the years afterward with the off-beat Uncle Buck—a Macauley Culkin-introducing comedy I admit to having a soft spot for the size of a giant Cubs jersey or that of Candy’s continent-level pancakes, but I digress.

Of course, what Hughes always did best was nail his endings by tethering spoonfuls of heart to even the zaniest of antics. This year maybe you’re celebrating a “Friendsgiving” far from home, or perhaps traveling to see your parents with a stab of reluctance at the hassle you feel all that hustling around might be. Maybe, in all but spirit, you are alone. Regardless, no modern comedy will make you appreciate what you have or value what you long for more than this one, and Martin and Candy have you laughing for the entire trip.