Noah Baumbach is gearing up to make waves in the Oscar realm once more with his latest feature, Jay Kelly, a charming comedy-drama starring George Clooney, set for a December release on Netflix. Meanwhile, his partner in both life and creativity, Greta Gerwig, not only takes on a supporting role in the film but is also deep in the creative process of adapting Chronicles of Narnia for Netflix. Before venturing into these high-profile projects, Baumbach and Gerwig collaborated on more modest, indie films like Frances Ha and Mistress America, both starring Gerwig with Baumbach at the helm, and the duo co-writing. Frances Ha has earned its place among Baumbach’s acclaimed works such as Kicking and Screaming, The Squid and the Whale, and Marriage Story, all part of the Criterion Collection. Yet, Mistress America, which just marked its tenth anniversary, deserves equal recognition for its brilliance, standing as tall as any other project the pair has undertaken. And now is the ideal season to revisit this gem.

Why should Mistress America be on your watchlist tonight?

Once you’ve exhausted your yearly viewings of Planes, Trains and Automobiles, you might find the selection of classic Thanksgiving films rather sparse, especially if you sidestep those filled with exaggerated tales of dysfunctional family gatherings. Enter Mistress America, a delightful offering from Baumbach and Gerwig that serves as a refreshing alternative for your Thanksgiving movie night.

Though the film’s main narrative doesn’t unfold during Thanksgiving itself, it captures the essence of the season, set during the fall semester leading up to the holiday. The story begins with Tracy (played by Lola Kirke) settling into her freshman year at Barnard College in Manhattan, navigating the subtle, often unspoken challenges of finding her footing in a new environment. Her mother, recently divorced, plans to remarry over the Thanksgiving weekend and encourages Tracy to reach out to Brooke (Greta Gerwig), her soon-to-be stepsister. Brooke, in her late twenties and seemingly apprehensive about turning forty, juggles her vibrant New York City lifestyle. She is part autodidact, part dilettante, and Tracy is both drawn to and skeptical of Brooke’s ambitious restaurant plans. Tracy channels her observations into a short story, hoping it will secure her a spot in Barnard’s elite literary society.

While Thanksgiving itself is only briefly featured towards the film’s end—with a glimpse of Kirke at the iconic Macy’s parade—the film beautifully encapsulates the transitional period of starting college and the anticipation of returning home for the first holiday break. Tracy’s occasional angst isn’t rooted in a lost connection with high school friends—it’s implied she had few—but rather in her eagerness to transform into the person she envisioned becoming in college. This mirrors Brooke’s own journey, as she energetically pursues stability and fulfillment in her future.

It’s actually Brooke who reconnects with an old friend; the back half of the movie has Tracy, Brooke, and two of Tracy’s college friends storming the suburban Connecticut home of Brooke’s ex-friend and “nemesis” Mamie-Claire (Heather Lind) in search of further restaurant funding. The fractious-farce energy of this extended sequence does have a touch of that familial dysfunction, even with the actual family members off-camera. It’s also the one stretch of the movie where time doesn’t jump forward consistently. Baumbach and Gerwig keep a relentless pace in both the writing and the editing, which enhances both the comedy (as in Frances Ha, the edits sometimes serve as punchlines) and the dramatic abruptness that occasionally throws Tracy off when she’s with her beguiling prospective step-sib.

Kirke, younger sister of Jemima Kirke from Girls, is an unusual presence with a great ear for Baumbach/Gerwig dialogue. But it’s Gerwig herself who delivers a tour de force. She was an in-demand actress before ascending to the upper tier of studio directors with Little Women and Barbie, and this may actually be her best role. Brooke is both more confident than Frances, and more secretly insecure about her endless freelance hustle; she didn’t go to college, something she defensively brings up  repeatedly (and also something she doesn’t have in common with many other Baumbach characters). There’s a timelessness to her characterization, such that even the aspects of the movie that should be heavily dated to a decade ago, like Brooke’s chatter about social media, still ring funny and true even if they’re clearly not happening in 2025. Besides, it was already meant to be weird back in 2015: “Just a quick tweet on Twitter,” Brooke offhands. Later: “Nate dropped a gram on Instagram. That means picture.” Eventually Tracy admonishes her: “Stop talking about Twitter, it’s so awkward!”

Honestly, I could keep on dropping lines from Mistress America all day. Fully half of the movie’s dialogue is hilarious, and some of it has become weirdly applicable to generational stuff that’s happened in the past decade (“Where is this old-person morality coming from?”). It’s better to just fire up this 85-minute wonder for yourself anytime between September and Thanksgiving weekend and enjoy the most weirdly autumnal screwball farce ever made.

Jesse Hassenger (@rockmarooned) is a writer living in Brooklyn. He’s a regular contributor to The A.V. Club, Polygon, and The Week, among others. He podcasts at www.sportsalcohol.com, too.