Montage of Memories

One of my all-time favourite movies is Home For The Holidays, directed by my all-time favourite actor Jodie Foster and starring Holly Hunter and Robert Downey Jr.

Holly Hunter is Claudia, a single mother who has lost her job, almost shagged her icky-looking ex-boss in a fit of insanity, down with a bad cold and dreading the trip home to spend Thanksgiving with her dysfunctional family.

She gets dropped off at the airport by her teenage daughter who, just before wisely speeding away to safety, announces that she’ll be "doing it" for the first time with her boyfriend over the coming Thanksgiving holidays. Claudia then misplaces her very nice coat on departure and when the plane touches down, is greeted by her parents and a hideous pink padded overcoat that can only be described as the obese lovechild of a giant earthworm and a poodle.

Bundled up in her gigantic coat, Claudia gazes out of the car window with the glazed resignation of an appeals-exhausted convict on Death Row as her parents drive her home. In the next car, a man with a constipated look of fear stares back from the passenger side window as they pull out of the airport carpark.

Their eyes meet in knowing, desperate sympathy.

It’s a look I recognise well.

Frozen on my face like Botox gone disastrously wrong, it comes a-tra-la-la-ing with that slight cold spasm that I get in my heart at the thought of going home for festive holidays. Anticipatory dread. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that going home is such a horror-filled nightmare. Whilst I usually have no doubt that I love my family, there are times though, when I just wish I was somewhere else. Preferably a few time zones away.

Amidst the chaos and drama of the Thanksgiving reunion, Claudia muses -

"Do you ever sit back and wonder, who ARE these people?".

As we are introduced to the idiosyncrasies of Claudia’s family, bits and pieces of meaningful events in each character’s respective life come to light. Tommy, the gay brother, recounts the commitment ceremony between him and his partner with close friends on the beach, and when pressed for more by Claudia, he tells her that no photos were taken.

Eccentric Aunt Gladys (Claudia’s mum’s sister) remembers how dashing Claudia’s dad Henry looked one night as they danced, revealing a heartbreaking 4-decade long crush on her sister’s husband.

Claudia herself seeks refuge from the frantic buzz of relatives around her by hiding in a closet and recalling one of the more peaceful moments in her life - snorkelling with her daughter in the ocean amidst a school of angelfish.

What I love about this movie is the bit at the end. Claudia’s dad sits alone in his den, watching old family home movies. Claudia joins him and he reminds her about a time long past, when he brought the entire family to the airfield where he worked, to watch the planes take off. He describes the one moment he will always hold dear as one of the happiest of his life - As her elder siblings hide behind her father's legs, toddler Claudia remains fearless, breathless with excitement. Her father holds her tight as they share in his love of airplanes.

Claudia smiles, remembering.

As the home-movie on their television fades from our screen, a montage of clips begins to play. There is no audio as the clips run, only Nat King Cole's "The Very Thought Of You" in the background.

Tommy and his partner exchange vows on the sand as the sun sets.

A very young Aunt Gladys slowdances with a handsome Henry, such bittersweet happiness on her face as he gently kisses her.

Claudia and her daughter hold hands, swimming amongst darting fish and rainbow coloured coral.

A young Henry with toddler Claudia in his arms as they watch the planes zoom by.

In today’s world where digital cameras have become standard features in mobile phones and our hard-disks bulge with gigabytes of digital photos, the most meaningful events of our lives are those of which there exist no physical record.

Memory becomes all the more precious.

We reaffirm our love and appreciation of family and significant others, we give meaning to ourselves, when the montage of memories plays in the quiet theatre of our hearts.