The movies families return to every Thanksgiving, year after year

There's a particular kind of comfort in watching the same film on the same holiday, in the same room, with the same people. For many families, Thanksgiving isn't complete without it.

Redditors shared the movies that have become their non-negotiable traditions—the ones they circle back to annually, sometimes for decades. Some are obvious choices. Others are unexpected rediscoveries that somehow became essential to how their families mark the day.

Planes, Trains and Automobiles appears more than once in the list, which makes sense. It's set during Thanksgiving travel, which means the film's chaos mirrors the actual day for many people. There's something grounding about watching Steve Martin and John Candy navigate their way home while you're already there, warm and fed.

Then there are the films that anchor specific family rituals. One person's household watches Home Alone on Thanksgiving night as the official start of Christmas season—lights dimmed, cleanup done, the whole transition. Another family decorates their house the Saturday after Thanksgiving while Gremlins plays in the background. A third waits all year for the black-and-white version of Miracle on 34th Street, which opens on Thanksgiving Day itself, making it feel like the film was made for this exact purpose.

Some choices carry generational weight. One commenter's father (born in the 1950s) grew up with Laurel and Hardy's Babes in Toyland. Their mother (born in the 1960s) had A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving. These weren't chosen for quality—they were chosen because they were on TV, and then they stuck. They became the texture of childhood.

The list includes everything from Best in Show (which pairs perfectly with the dog show that airs on Thanksgiving) to The Family Stone to Silver Linings Playbook. Some are comedies, some are dramas. Some have nothing to do with Thanksgiving at all, but they've become Thanksgiving movies anyway through repetition and association.

What matters isn't whether the film is "good" in any critical sense. What matters is that it's yours. It's the movie that signals the meal is over, the dishes are done, and you can finally sit down. It's the one that plays while cousins drift in and out of the living room. It's the one your kids will probably watch on Thanksgiving when they're adults, in their own homes, wondering why they keep reaching for it.

That's the real tradition—not the film itself, but the permission it gives you to pause.