Joyful Madness

Reflecting on "Planes, Trains, and Automobiles"

Of all the holiday traditions around this season, one of my favorites and perhaps the one I engage in most consistently is reviewing classic holiday films with friends and loved ones. Christmastime clearly dominates these seasonal genres in terms of output, but there’s one film that stands alone as basically the only memorable Thanksgiving film: John Hughes’s Planes, Trains, and Automobiles (1987).

It’s a raucous odyssey chronicling the shaky yet budding friendship of marketing executive Neal Page (Steve Martin) and shower curtain ring salesman Del Griffith (John Candy) as Page desperately tries to get from New York City to Chicago in time to spend Thanksgiving with his family. Page would initially like nothing more than to travel alone and away from the oafish blabbermouth Griffith, but by fate and bureaucratic incompetency, the two spend three days trekking across several states by every mode of transportation available for Neal to make it home for the holiday.

The film drops several hints to Del’s personal life that are not ultimately revealed until the very end. Throughout their trip, Neal wants nothing more than to see his wife and children and even daydreams about their holiday dinner he has been desperately trying to make it to on time. Del mentions his wife Marie in hushed tones and avoids any details about their relationship. Contrasted with his usual boisterous persona, the audience knows that pieces aren’t lining up as Del can talk endlessly about shower curtain rings but not the love of his life. After the two touch down in Chicago and go their separate ways at the train station, Neal can’t help but laugh at the hilarious situations the two found themselves in over the past three days, but he comes to a sobering realization: Del never talked about his wife beyond short quips, stating earlier that he hadn’t been home in ages as he kept himself on the road as a traveling salesman. Neal reverses course and gets Del to come forward with the truth: that his wife has been dead for eight years; and rather than deal with the pain of returning to the home he shared with his beloved, he remains on the road living out of his suitcase. The film ends with Neal and Del approaching Neal’s home with Del as his guest. As Neal embraces his wife, Del smiles onward with tears in his eyes as he finally has a home and a family for Thanksgiving.

I’ve outlined the plot to get at the heart of what this film and many other holiday classics do so well. It’s a concept I like to think of as “joyful madness.” Films such as this one, Christmas Vacation (1989), Home Alone (1990), A Christmas Story (1983), and others all generally revolve around or involve the typical stressors that come with planning a large family gathering for the holidays. While most of the scenarios and plot points greatly heighten or exaggerate the stressors to comedic effect, most audiences will know all too well the headaches and hassles of planning family trips, traveling, preparing the food, and dealing with family members who know every way to get on your nerves, consciously or not. However, all of the stressors — all of that madness — are not without a worthwhile purpose: sharing the holidays with your family.

There’s a joy to be found in the maddening plans, preparations, and executions of our holiday to-do lists. Dealing with canceled flights and layovers will always be worth it to see your wife and children. Baking multiple courses and entrées over a period of hours never seems so long when everyone is eating at the table and smiling. Interacting with those irritating family members and in-laws is usually bearable when you remember how you may not have many more chances to see them as the years progress. And perhaps, as is the case with Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, doing that one heartfelt gesture for a total stranger can make his holiday one he will never forget.

Unfortunately, the ugliness and decline in the world that our Substack readers and YouTube viewers can see so well have infected not only our institutions and popular culture, but also that joyful madness we tolerate yet need in order to make the holidays the festive experience they’ve always been. I speak anecdotally to this point, but I can imagine that my own experiences are not so foreign to those of our audience. In an ever-politicized world, be it from the 2016 election to the Covid outbreak and its Summer of Love, I’ve been told depressing anecdotes of families who no longer see each other or celebrate the holidays together over (what they deem to be) irreconcilable differences. There’s always been the meme of “Don’t Talk Politics at Thanksgiving” to avoid some inevitable argument. However, just as the comedy films I’ve mentioned above exaggerated that typical holiday madness, so too has our culture exaggerated the subtle political divisions that normally would not have been wide enough to divide your own kin.

There has been a dissolution of the many traditions and bonds that kept families so close for generations, but some have withered in only a few years. I’ve heard firsthand horror stories of no longer seeing relatives because one of them was a Trump supporter. I’ve seen invitations to Thanksgiving dinner revoked or denied because some family members weren’t vaccinated. If there wasn’t outright confrontation over politics, I know of many families whose political convictions have made members outright apathetic to making the effort to travel for the holidays. On top of all the divides, we’ve seen the rise of the “Friendsgiving” phenomenon, wherein young people will have a potluck dinner with friends as some hollow mimicry of tradition rather than engage in the joyful madness of visiting their families. As these young people have waited longer to start their own families — or have abandoned the concept outright — they have decided that a dinner party with friends is just as authentic.

I have not come with the intention of depressing our readers. Quite the opposite. We can recognize how empty our culture feels with its withering traditions, but only through identifying and clearing out the rot so that we may plant our own seeds of tradition. Some of us still have that joyful madness in our lives. I stress to those of you who still experience that madness not only to enjoy it but to continue to cultivate it. Visit your parents regardless of distance, help them with prepping the meal, play catch with your siblings, reconnect with extended family, and take the time to talk with your grandparents. Whether it’s a grand gesture or a simple one, throw yourself into the middle of the madness. If you’re in a position where that madness seems lost and the chances of it coming back are slim, you have the opportunity to bring it back for later generations to experience. Do everything you can to lead a family one day and share in the joyful madness of the holidays. I don’t mean to tell you that such an endeavor is easy, but to reassure you that you do have the power to make it your reality.

Finally, take a lesson from Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, and do whatever you can to be with loved ones this Thanksgiving. There’s no amount of money or travel that can diminish what you share with family. If you, by chance, meet your own Del Griffith, take the opportunity to be charitable and share your joyful madness that makes this holiday so meaningful.