HOW JOHN HUGHES DEFINED THANKSGIVING
Movies are staples of every holiday season. Halloween? Maybe you’re all about A Nightmare Before Christmas or Hocus Pocus. Christmas? Home Alone is a go-to, or Die Hard if you’re feeling controversial. But Thanksgiving… only one movie comes to mind. Planes, Trains & Automobiles. A timeless classic, John Hughes perfectly captures holiday time anxiety with his characteristic infusion of comedy and drama.
What’s his secret? Sure, your annoying uncle might claim it's all down to the chemistry between Steve Martin and John Candy, but there’s more at play here. Hughes knew the screenplay is the backbone of any great movie - there’s a reason he didn’t direct anything written by anyone else! Let’s break down how Hughes shapes a movie.
OPENING IMAGE
The May ’86 screenplay kicks off in New York City, the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, capturing the chaos of the bustling metropolis. There’s no protagonist in sight - just a sea of movement. Consequently, we’re dropped right into the mayhem, feeling the overwhelm of the crowd.
In the final product, this is reduced to the single shot above. It’s efficient.
SET UP
We then learn a little backstory about protagonist Neal Page through his conversation with colleague John; he’s hurrying to catch a flight home to Chicago for Thanksgiving. Neal’s fed up with his advertising job, and his workaholic tendencies have strained his marriage to Susan. Failure to catch his flight home would only deepen the fractures in their relationship.
Fearing he’ll miss his flight, Neal scrambles to catch a cab. An off-duty driver rejects him, crushing his briefcase in the process. Spotting another vacant cab, embarking in a foot race with a wily attorney. Getting there second, Neal barters, handing over $100 to the smug lawyer. As they haggle, a third guy snags the cab and takes off.. Giving chase, Neal cusses out the culprit who stole his ride. We’ll soon learn this is Del Griffith.
Neal, resigned to taking the bus, reaches LaGuardia with just ten minutes to spare. Del holds up the check in line and we get our first insight into his behavior; Del could bring home gold for the USA if talking was an Olympic sport. He cannot make up his mind if he wants a smoking or non-smoking seat, showering the agent with anecdotes and flattery.
Shortly thereafter, Del delays security, thanks to a forgotten metal shoehorn in his heel. Oblivious to the ire he causes, Del remains unfazed, offering smiles, stories, and gratitude to everyone he meets. Neal, conversely, is already at his wit’s end.
After a tense exchange over the cab debacle, Neal and Del discover their flight is delayed. As they wait, Del’s lack of decorum grates on Neal - his habits are vulgar, intrusive, and he won’t stop trying to chat. Del claims to be a travel pro, doling out unsolicited tips on airline operations.
By now, we understand Neal intuitively. None of his bad luck is his own fault. While he could be more gracious, everyone he meets shares the same goal of getting home to their families for the holidays. Del, though, is a different story. Neal can only grit his teeth and endure.
Neal’s day gets worse when he is bumped from first class to coach - beside who else but Del.
INCITING INCIDENT
One could make a compelling argument that the inciting incident hits when the flight is rerouted or later, when Neal agrees to team up with Del. But for me, it’s this moment - Neal stuck next to Del on the plane for a three-hour ride (or so we think). Trapped, Neal has no escape from Del’s chatter, giving Del just enough time to latch on, whether Neal likes it or not. Spoiler: he doesn’t. He fights the urge to tell Del to take a long stroll off a long pier - he’s just ‘not that kind of man.’
Neal pretends to work to escape Del’s endless tales about the beguiling shower curtain ring trade. So focused on avoiding the conversation, he doesn’t even realize the plane hasn’t taken off yet. That Chicago weather must be real bad…
DEBATE
Neal calls home from Wichita after the plane is diverted by a blizzard hitting O’Hare. Notably, and unlike the film, the conversation is entirely one-sided - we don’t see or hear Neal’s wife Susan until the final pages. At the airport, Del warns that their flight to Chicago will be canceled rather than resumed, leaving them stranded with no hotel. Sure enough, the flight is called off, and Neal can’t secure a room. Del offers a deal: if Neal covers the cab fare, he’ll get them a room at the Interstate Inn. We learn that Del’s trunk is extremely heavy.
After an extortionate taxi fare taking the scenic route in the middle of the night, they finally reach the Inn. Gus, the owner and a friend of Del, apologizes - he has no room for Neal. Faced with forking out another $150 for a return trip, Neal begrudgingly agrees to share Del’s double. Del even generously lets Neal pick up the tab so he won’t feel like a freeloader.
As Neal showers, Del unpacks his many belongings and comforts, including a framed photo of wife Marie. He orders a pizza, paying the pizza boy from Neal’s wallet and skimping on a tip. He leaves a six-pack of beer on the vibrating bed. When Neal opens it, the beer fizzes, spraying the covers. Neal struggles to sleep in the cramped, damp bed while Del smokes in the dark. At his breaking point, Neal finally snaps, criticizing Del for his nasty habits, poor manners, and tight purse strings. Del just grins and takes it.
BREAK INTO TWO
After bidding a bitter goodnight, Del professes he’s ‘got to fart something fierce.’ That does it - Neal decides to sleep in the lobby. Del, unbothered, calls Neal intolerant and hostile, a label that fits more with each passing moment. The criticism stings Del, but he responds unapologetically. ‘I like me. My wife likes me. My customers like me. Because I’m the real article. I’m a human being. Flaws, fat and farts.’
As we approach the second act, Neal is at a crossroads. He could walk away, having lost nothing for a couple of hundred bucks and a night’s sleep. But he doesn’t, he feels crummy for blasting Del, so he makes the decision to apologize and head back to bed, committing to continue their shared journey.
FUN AND GAMES
In the night, the disgruntled pizza boy returns, swiping cash from both men’s wallets. When the pair awake, they find themselves entwined, pretzelled together in a big spoon little spoon configuration which repulses them both.
At breakfast, Del suggests they take the Amtrak, predicting the weather won’t improve and recalling being stuck for days during past storms. Neal reluctantly agrees, dreading the idea of spending Thanksgiving in Wichita. Then they discover they’ve been robbed - Neal immediately accuses Del of theft. Without means to pay, Del takes their itemized check and complains about each item until their pocket change can cover the total. Here Hughes places Del and Neal as allies for the first time, having to cooperate to avoid punishment.
Gus’ son drives them to the station, where the men part ways, each getting tickets for different carriages. Neal refuses to give Del his address for reimbursement, eager to end the ordeal and put distance between them. Fate has other plans - the train breaks down, reuniting the pair and stranding them in Jefferson City.
At a bus terminal, Del tells Neal he needs to relax and ‘go with the flow,’ further antagonising Neal. They share a Greyhound filled with unsavoury sorts and Neal’s disgust is compounded upon learning the bus will only take them as far as St. Louis.
Further delayed, Neal calls Susan to break the bad news, outlining his plan to rent a car and drive the eight hours home. Meanwhile, Del starts pawning off Neal’s credit cards to pay for a meal. Neal explains that he thinks they should split up, crushing Del in the process. Del sinks into self-pity, saying his goodbyes again, feeling like their journey has abruptly ended.
For the first time, Neal smiles - he’s free of Del at last. But his relief is short-lived when he hears about a fellow passenger’s nightmare journey. This moment, absent from the film, recontextualizes Neal’s struggles as trivial and marks a key moment of growth. From here on out, his rage becomes more primal - he’s no longer reasonable or rational, just raw frustration. Things could be worse, and he’ll kick and scream to stop that happening.
When Neal finally boards the courtesy bus to pick up his rental, he discovers it’s not there. Stuck with no choice, he faces a freezing walk back to the terminal, pushing his patience to the brink.
He blows up at the Agent, demanding a car. He’s refused as his rental agreement blew away in the bad weather. As the Agent politely explains; ‘You’re fucked.’
MIDPOINT
Neal reaches his lowest point here, ridding him of the empathy that previously defined him. He verbally abuses the Agent and a cab Dispatcher. He’s not yet at the point of insanity where his misfortune becomes a sick joke, instead he’s violently lashing out at the world around him. The consequences are swift: the Dispatcher knocks him out cold, and Neal is almost smushed by Del’s rental Lincoln.
And just like that, Del is a devil turned guardian angel. He picks Neal up, puts him in the car, and once again - Neal’s fate is intrinsically linked with this insufferable buffoon.
BAD TO WORSE
At a gas station, Del further exploits Neal’s credit card to fill up the Lincoln. Neal insists on driving through the night to get home by early morning. His irritation with Del grows - not so much because of Del’s annoying habits, but because Del seems to genuinely have his best interests at heart.
Del finds some backbone here, retorting that Neal has his own annoying habits and taking the high ground by suggesting he doesn’t voice every frustration. They stop for coffee, lamenting that it’s Thanksgiving Eve and they’re still far from home. Neal asks about Del’s family, and Del mentions his wife and three kids. A trucker warns that the weather’s getting worse, making Chicago inaccessible.
Del drives toward Chicago anyway, ignoring the warnings. Neal complains as Del’s fiddling with the recliner breaks the mechanism. They bicker over the radio station, Del’s smoking, and even how far to crack the window. Eventually, Neal argues himself to sleep.
Del tosses his cigarette butt out the window, but it gets sucked back in, landing in Neal’s discarded coat. Dancing along to the country station, Del gets overheated and tries to take off his jacket, only to effectively handcuff himself - unable to steer the Lincoln. He spins out, skids down a ramp, regains control, and narrowly avoids totaling the car. Neal wakes up, and Del blames a deer for the chaos.
They drive back up the off-ramp, now heading the wrong way on the highway. Neal doesn’t notice, but he does catch the burning smell as the cigarette scorches a hole in his coat. A driver heading the right way spots them and desperately tries to signal they’re going the wrong direction. Unable to hear him, they misinterpret his gestures as a challenge to race. Once they finally make out his message - ‘YOU’RE GOING THE WRONG WAY!’ - they assume he must be drunk. How else would he know where they’re headed?
Too late, they spot two ten-wheelers barreling toward them. Swerving to avoid a fatal collision, they lose the car’s trunk lid and their luggage. As they scramble to grab their bags, the Lincoln catches fire - the cigarette butt finally ignites the whole vehicle. All of Neal’s belongings and access to money go up in flames.
Unlike in the film where they laugh at the absurdity, in the screenplay, they share a rare quiet, sombre moment before Neal queries how Del could have rented the car without a credit card - then realizes Del borrowed his. In a flash of anger, he slugs Del in the stomach.
They lug the charred remains of the car to a motel, where Neal has to hand over his watch as payment for a room. Left standing outside in the snow, Del reflects on his mistakes, while Neal wrestles with his own compassion.
BREAK INTO THREE
Inviting Del into his room, Neal achieves significant character growth. Repeatedly, his empathy wins out over his bitterness, and it seems like he embraces that here. He and Del bond, sharing their fears over the futility of their professions and celebrating having women they love to grow old with. Neal even concedes that one day he’ll laugh about this odyssey.
FINALE
As they leave the motel, they struggle to free the frozen, incinerated Lincoln from a snowdrift, punching a hole in the side of the motel as they go. Likely now wanted men, they speed off. Feeling guilty, Del offers Neal his Casio watch as a replacement for the one Neal had to sacrifice.
A state trooper clocks their speeding and pulls over the wrecked Lincoln. When asked how fast they were going, they sheepishly admit they can’t tell as the speedometer melted. The car is impounded, and they discover they’ve overshot Chicago, landing in Wisconsin. After their release, Del drops another bombshell: he waived the rental insurance, meaning the damage will all be charged to Neal.
Thanksgiving morning. Del nurses a fresh black eye. Neal, meanwhile, is in hot water as his wife hangs up on him, convinced his excuses are just lies. Determined to get Neal home for dinner, Del vows to make it happen.
Riding a refrigerated cheese truck into Chicago, Neal is further delayed as Del promised to unload the cargo as payment. Despite everything, Neal feels a pang of gratitude, realizing he might still be stuck in Wichita without Del’s help. From the train station, he bids Del farewell for the umpteenth time in a couple of days.
Neal is stunned to see him yet again, his temper on the verge of boiling over. Then Del drops the truth: he has no home to go to. His wife, Marie, passed away 15 years ago. He lives out of his trunk, no family or children, though they’d planned on it before Marie fell ill. Del admits the holidays are the hardest and that sometimes he grows attached to strangers, desperate for a sense of connection.
Neal is devastated by Del’s confession. Del, overwhelmed with guilt, apologizes repeatedly, calling Neal the nicest guy he’s ever met. He tells Neal he’s the luckiest man alive to have a family waiting for him and promises to pay back every cent he owes.
At home, Neal’s family is ready for dinner, though Susan is upset, convinced Neal has been lying about his whereabouts. Moments later, Neal and Del appear at the front door, trunk in tow. Neal and Susan embrace, the distance and struggles of the journey making their reunion all the more meaningful.
CLOSING IMAGE
The family (plus Del) share Thanksgiving dinner, offering their thanks for one another.
In stark contrast to the cold anonymity of the opening scene, the film closes on a heartwarming image of family, united in the warmth of home.
WHY IS IT SO GREAT?
Now that we've broken down the plot, let's explore why Planes, Trains & Automobiles resonated so deeply in 1987 and continues to hit home 37 years later. Stripped to its bare bones, the plot may sound unexceptional. What truly makes it special, what makes it pop, is rooted in Hughes’ characters.
Where better to start than with Neal, the protagonist? He’s incredibly relatable—an everyman facing frustrations and setbacks that could happen to anyone. Neal’s struggle to maintain control of his life is rooted in how he sees himself; like many of us, he wants to believe he’s a moral man - not a saint - but a good person. We’ve all had plans fall apart for reasons beyond our control, and the screenplay digs into how Neal loses sight of his identity under pressure. Neal is introduced as a man ‘deeply in control of his life’ - placing him precariously in a position to have this control wrestled away from him.
Meanwhile - Del represents the fundamental human desire for connection. Initially, we see him through Neal’s eyes, his surface-level flaws amplified, but as the story unfolds, we discover the vulnerabilities beneath. His imperfections, often played for comedic effect, become relatable as he shifts between being apologetic and unapologetic about his quirks. Ever been deep in a conversation, only to notice your friend checking their phone, yawning, or giving someone else an exasperated look? Putting ourselves in Del’s shoes makes it easy to empathize with him.
Making these two rely on each other allows for a powerful conclusion to their journey, physically and emotionally. Neal learns to ‘go with the flow’ and invites Del into his home, while Del’s ability to confront his loneliness brings him clarity and a sense of validation. Hughes masterfully weaves these two arcs together in such a satisfying way. Is it expected? Maybe. Does it feel cathartic? Absolutely. Am I crying while explaining this to my uncle at Thanksgiving dinner? You bet.
DIFFERENCES IN THE SCREENPLAY VS THE MOVIE
A story undergoes a metamorphosis when it leaps from page to screen. While Hughes writes AND directs, he’s not afraid to cut scenes or let them evolve on set. Let’s explore some of the differences:
Am I crazy, or is there a slight implication that Neal cheats on his wife in the screenplay? Early in the screenplay, colleague John mentions ‘screwing around.’ Unlike the movie, we don’t see Susan’s POV until the final pages. She’s demoted to the ‘Wet Blanket Wife’ trope, a voice on the other end of the telephone for Neal to roll his eyes at. While there’s no evidence that Neal has any interest in playing adulterer (unless you’re counting some nude magazines in his suitcase), the mention of mistresses early on feels like an unresolved thread. If you’ve seen the film, you may have thought Susan’s tears at the point of their reunion was a little melodramatic - could it be that she suspected his stories about Del were just an excuse for cheating?
By removing this from the film, we get a more wholesome, family appeal.
There are some key scenes in the screenplay that further Neal’s character by forcing him into association with Del by proxy. Take a look at the scene below.
After losing their money, Del tries to reduce their bill through deception. While this behavior would normally shame someone like Neal, he’s now relying on it, opening the door for him to appreciate Del’s qualities.
Ticking clock. The film relies on Neal getting home ‘for Thanksgiving’ but in the screenplay, it's already Thanksgiving morning and they're stuck in Wisconsin. Hughes amplifies the urgency by using the football game as a device; we know Neal is in trouble with his wife, but it’s going to be a whole lot worse if he misses Thanksgiving dinner.
The film focuses on subtlety rather than direct exposition. The screenplay, however, offers more clues about Marie's death, hinting at the twist earlier. Hughes’ restraint in the film heightens the impact of the reveal, making it a more emotional gut punch.
Unsurprisingly, in a film with such a strong cast, some of the best lines were improvised or developed after the writing process. One of the funniest lines absent from the original script comes from Owen: ‘She’s short and strong. Her first baby… come out sideways. She didn’t scream or nothing.’
Perhaps in an effort to make Neal more validated in his verbal abuse of the car rental agent, she’s more aggravating in the film than the screenplay. This justifies his outburst a little better, but maybe serves as less of a cause for shame thereafter.
