Nothing says “holiday spirit” like a movie about implacable grief, so on the day after Thanksgiving, I went to see The Messenger, an indie drama about a young soldier who has to inform families that their loved ones have died in Iraq or Afghanistan.

What  made this sad movie so weirdly comforting? Read on!

If you’ve seen a character-driven drama, then you can figure this one out: Staff Sergeant Will Montgomery (Ben Foster) is on messenger duty because he got wounded overseas. When the movie starts, he’s taciturn because, you know, he’s got feelings buried deep inside. His polite-but-guarded demeanor contrasts the screw-loose intensity of his new partner, Captain Tony Shore (Woody Harrelson.) Shore’s been on this detail for a long time, and constantly delivering terrible news has made him both lonely and desperate for companionship.

Will this mismatched pair ever get along? Will they help each other come to terms with personal demons? I think you know.

You also  know what’s going to happen when Will tells Olivia (Samantha Morton) that her husband has died, leaving her a widow with a small son to raise. Olivia doesn’t take the news like the others. There’s something about her. Something passionate. Can she light a match in Will’s heart that can melt through the double trauma of surviving battle and facing a girlfriend (Jena Malone) who didn’t wait for him while he was at war? Can she?

To be fair, the movie, which is written by Alessandro Camon & Oren Moverman and directed by Moverman, does take a few turns off the Tough Love Highway. For one thing, Olivia and Will never sleep together, and in the absence of nookie, they have lengthy conversations that reveal both the details of their characters and the big themes of the film. (Sure, there was going to be a sex scene, but let’s assume Moverman realized that the Army’s squeamishness actually helped his story.)

I was interested, too, that as they pull each other out of some dark, dark wells, Will and Shore push each other into a couple more. They may be buddies, but they’re not entirely good for each other.

But again: This movie is mostly designed from the Serious Drama blueprint.

For me, however, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Familiar structures can be comforting if they’re built with skill, and plenty of The Messenger‘s predictable scenes—especially the moments where grieving families are informed of their loss—are solid. They’re upsetting, but they’re also weirdly soothing. People cry right where they’re supposed to. The one father has a “complicated” reaction at just the right moment. I go through the familiar motions of catharsis and I enjoy a helping of Serious Drama the way I enjoy mashed potatoes. Surprising? No. Satisfying? Damn right.

More than by-the-numbers action or romantic comedy, I love predictable drama. I love confessional monologues and tense revelations and little bits of hope tossed in for flavoring. I especially love conclusions that let quirky and/or dark characters step into some kind of light. To me, that’s an affiriming reiteration of my deeply-held belief that diving headlong in emotion is the surest way to understand it. When a sad character faces that sadness and overcomes it, I get told what I want to hear.

My comfort food tastes have limits, of course. I don’t want Treacly Moral Lessons, I don’t want total bleakness, and I prefer intimacy to epic scope.

And hey, if a drama actually surprises or challenges me, the way Precious and Inglourious Basterds did this year, then that’s great. That’s the drama I’ll keep thinking about for weeks. But I don’t need a life-changer to be happy. Sometimes, I just need “solidly made” and “reasonably absorbing.” Sometimes I just need The Messenger.