From left, Dominic Sessa, Da’Vine Joy Randolph, and Paul Giamatti in The Holdovers (Seacia Pavao/Focus Features)

With crackling pops on the soundtrack, the grainy opening of an early 1970s MPAA trailer ID, and the Focus Films and Miramax logos re-worked to reflect the aesthetics of that decade, Alexander Payne immediately creates a cocoon of detailed, vintage atmosphere in his latest 1970 end-of-year holidays-set movie. Additionally, the gentle “Silver Joy” accompanies the opening credits, playing over scenes of a snowy New England boarding school campus. The song, by folk rock artist Damien Jurado from 2014, would cozily fit in the era with the likes of Cat Stevens, Nick Drake, or Jim Croce.

Crabby and curmudgeonly ancient history high school teacher Paul Hunham (his last name an obvious anagram of “human”) played by Paul Giamatti in a masterclass turn; smart, but troubled student Agnus (Dominic Sessa); and kitchen manager Mary (Da’Vine Joy Randolph) end up together over winter holiday break through various circumstances, with Paul there to watch over Agnus and help hold down the fort. Pretentious, with a habit of pulling out Roman historical facts and slipping into speaking Latin, and antisocial, Paul is a bit of a fossil at the school, with his bow ties and tweedy get-up. He’s disliked by students for his insults and strictness, and an outcast among the other instructors who find him pompous. The students, mostly wealthy and privileged, are equally rude.

The movie sets up a familiar character development that harkens back to Dickens’s Ebenezer Scrooge: We will learn more about this cantankerous middle-age man and what made him the way he is, and soon he will soften by the end. Yet, David Hemingson’s script pivots and diverges in numerous ways throughout. The joy in this film, as with the best of Payne’s work, are the rambling, winding paths getting to its ultimate, emotionally rewarding, yet slightly ambivalent destination. In a Q&A, Payne mentioned the virtue of movies that aren’t plot driven but where “character drives the plot.”

What helps guide that journey so smoothly are the performances and the enveloping details (music, costumes, and the New England setting—filmed at different boarding schools across Massachusetts, primarily Deerfield Academy). The actors give these oft-prickly, agitated characters particularity and grace. Sessa, gangly and shaggy-haired, gives an impressive debut performance. Agnus is frustrated with his newly remarried mother (Gillian Vigman), who sets out on a trip with her new husband, leaving Angus behind at Christmas. His parents don’t seem to care much about him, sending him a card with cash and no message.

Agnus confronts Paul’s strictness as a teacher and also as the reluctant caregiver, and the two spar throughout, letting newbie Sessa go toe-to-toe with vet Giamatti. The latter is excellent with his comic timing, and Payne, having worked with the actor on Sideways, seems to know his gifts well, alongside editor Kevin Trent (who has edited all of Payne’s films). Often a shot will linger longer than expected upon Giamatti’s expressions after he receives or gives an insult, instead of the usual quick cut to another shot.

Mary, who is grieving over her son’s recent death in the Vietnam War, lives on campus and spends her nights alone watching TV shows like The Newlywed Game. This character could have been strained and oversimplified, but Randolph, a scene stealer in Dolemite Is My Name and here as well, portrays Mary with a sense of vulnerability, steely resolve, and slyness. When she breaks down drunkenly at a Christmas Party, the furious anguish is palpable. In addition to Sessa, Payne’s gift with casting authentic, slightly askew, ordinary-looking people is present throughout the ensemble, including Ian Dolley and Jim Kaplan as two of the younger kids at the school, and Carrie Preston as one of the school’s fellow employees and a potential love interest for Paul.

One could quibble at the sudden jarring sight of modern cars caught at the edges of the frame in shots of the main trio driving off campus, especially because the 1970 world is otherwise so carefully crafted. However, either by happenstance or planning, Payne’s movies always have an idiosyncratic quality, a frayed meticulousness akin to the slow unraveling of Election’s Tracy Flick. When Vigman as Agnus’s mother appears, the climatic situation at hand is more layered and complicated than expected. She’s also not the typical posh prep school parent stereotype—her lipstick is not perfectly applied within the lines.