It’s not about turkey. Not even close. Yet every November, families across America hit play on Planes, Trains and Automobiles—a 1987 road comedy with no festive feast, no caroling, no snow-dusted rooftops—and somehow, it feels more like Thanksgiving than any movie ever has. As the film approaches its fortieth anniversary in 2027, its hold on holiday tradition hasn’t just endured—it’s deepened. What started as a box office curiosity has become a cultural anchor, a movie people don’t just watch, but return to, like an old sweater that still fits just right.
Why This Movie Belongs to Thanksgiving
Most holiday films are built around rituals: the tree, the cookies, the church service. But Planes, Trains and Automobiles is built around something deeper: the desperate, aching need to get home. Directed by John Hughes, the film pairs Steve Martin’s tightly wound corporate traveler, Neal Page, with John Candy’s lovable, relentless shower curtain salesman, Del Griffith, as they battle blizzards, broken-down cars, and bad luck on a journey from New York to Chicago. No one eats stuffing. No one sings carols. But when Del says, “I’m a traveling salesman,” and Neal snaps back, “I’m a traveling *businessman*,” you don’t laugh just because it’s funny—you laugh because you recognize the frustration of being stranded, of being one missed connection away from losing your grip on sanity.
That’s why it sticks. As Kathryn Fink, an NPR contributor, told BPR.org in November 2025, “I was in elementary school when this came out, and my entire family was obsessed with it.” She’s not alone. Families have passed this movie down like heirlooms—not because it’s perfect, but because it’s painfully, beautifully human. “It’s such a crowd pleaser,” she added. “There are some dirty jokes here and there, but mostly it’s just kind of odd. And there are weird characters. There’s an epic dance scene. You’ve got some great ‘80s music.”
The Alchemy of Two Comedians Who Felt Too Much
What separates Planes, Trains and Automobiles from every other holiday comedy is the weight behind the laughs. Critics often call it a “comedy of errors,” but that undersells it. As Peter Travers wrote in The Travers Take on November 21, 2025: “Steve Martin and John Candy star in the best Thanksgiving comedy ever, even though no one gets a turkey.” He’s right. But the real magic isn’t in the plot—it’s in the performances.
Steve Martin, at his most brilliantly restrained, plays a man who’s spent his life building walls. John Candy, in one of his final great roles, plays a man who never learned how to build them at all. Their chemistry isn’t just timing—it’s tenderness. When Del shares a quiet moment about his late wife, the joke stops. The camera lingers. You feel it. As The Back Focus commentary noted, “Without the right actors at the helm… it might have become another forgettable comedy.” But Martin and Candy didn’t just act—they *listened*. And that’s what made the film feel real.
A Movie That Defies Genre—and Stays Relevant
There’s no real villain in this movie. No evil landlord, no greedy corporation. The enemy is just… life. The delays. The broken-down rental cars. The motel that charges extra for towels. The state trooper who asks if your headlights are legal—played memorably by Michael McKean—and suddenly, you’re not just watching a movie. You’re remembering your own holiday travel nightmare.
That’s why GeekTyrant called it “the only film people associate with Thanksgiving.” Christmas has It’s a Wonderful Life. Halloween has Hocus Pocus. But Thanksgiving? Only one movie captures the exhaustion, the chaos, the quiet longing that comes with trying to get home to people you love—even when you’re sick of each other.
And now, with Paramount+ streaming the film starting November 1, 2025, a new generation gets a chance to experience it. IMDb confirmed the date on November 24, 2025. Streaming didn’t kill the tradition—it revived it.
Why It Still Hits Home
MovieWeb called it “the best Thanksgiving movie ever made.” BW Podcast described it as “a crash course in compassion.” Both are right. But the most haunting line—quoted by GeekTyrant and echoed by viewers for decades—is this: “And for all its pratfalls and punchlines, both Martin and Candy… never forgot the truth behind the comedy. Everyone just wants to get home.”
That’s not just a line. It’s the entire point. The movie doesn’t ask you to believe in miracles. It asks you to believe in patience. In kindness. In the guy who won’t shut up but somehow makes you feel less alone.
There’s no grand finale. No reunion hug on the porch. Just Neal, finally in Chicago, looking at Del, and saying, “You’re a good man, Del.” And that’s enough.
What’s Next for a Classic
With its 40th anniversary looming, there’s talk of a restored 4K release and perhaps a documentary on its legacy. But the real celebration? It’s happening right now—in living rooms, on couches, with popcorn on the floor and someone yelling, “I’m a traveling salesman!” while the rest of the family groans and laughs.
It’s not about the anniversary. It’s about the ritual. And as long as people still get stuck in airports, miss flights, or ride in rental cars that smell like old socks, Planes, Trains and Automobiles will be there. Waiting. Ready to remind us that getting home isn’t just about distance—it’s about who you’re willing to suffer through it with.
Frequently Asked Questions
Why is Planes, Trains and Automobiles considered a Thanksgiving movie if there’s no turkey?
The film captures the emotional core of Thanksgiving—not the meal, but the journey home. With no holiday symbols, it focuses on the universal stress of travel, family tension, and the relief of finally arriving. Viewers connect with Neal’s desperation to get to Chicago, mirroring millions who endure chaotic trips to see loved ones. As NPR’s Kathryn Fink noted, it’s the movie her family returned to year after year because it felt true to their own holiday chaos.
Who are the key actors and why does their chemistry matter?
Steve Martin plays the uptight Neal Page, and John Candy portrays the lovable, talkative Del Griffith. Their contrast—Martin’s controlled frustration versus Candy’s open-hearted chaos—creates a dynamic rarely seen in comedy. Critics note they didn’t just perform jokes; they revealed vulnerability. Candy’s emotional monologue about his late wife, for instance, transforms the film from slapstick to soulful, making the humor land harder because the stakes feel real.
When will Planes, Trains and Automobiles be available to stream in 2025?
The film will be available for streaming on Paramount+ starting November 1, 2025, as confirmed by IMDb news on November 24, 2025. This marks the first time the film has been made widely accessible for holiday streaming in recent years, allowing new audiences to discover its blend of humor and heart just in time for Thanksgiving.
How has the film influenced holiday viewing traditions?
For many families, watching Planes, Trains and Automobiles has become as routine as carving the turkey. NPR’s Kathryn Fink said it’s the movie she’s seen more than any other since childhood. Its quotable lines, absurd mishaps, and emotional beats make it perfect for shared viewing—whether you’re laughing at the dance scene or quietly moved by Del’s story. Unlike Christmas films, it doesn’t romanticize the holidays—it reflects their messy reality.
What makes this film different from other holiday movies?
Most holiday films rely on tradition, magic, or sentimentality. Planes, Trains and Automobiles rejects all of that. There’s no Santa, no miracle, no perfect family reunion. Instead, it shows two strangers forced to rely on each other, slowly becoming friends through shared frustration. Its humor is grounded in real travel disasters, and its heart comes from quiet, unspoken understanding—making it uniquely relatable for anyone who’s ever missed a flight or argued with a stranger over a hotel room.
Is there any chance of a sequel or remake?
No official sequel or remake has been announced, and many fans believe it shouldn’t be touched. The film’s power lies in its perfect timing—1987, the chemistry of Martin and Candy, and John Hughes’ writing. Attempts to recreate it would risk losing what makes it timeless: its authenticity. As fans and critics agree, the original remains unmatchable, which is why it continues to be rewatched—not replaced.
