The True Meaning of Home in “Planes, Trains and Automobiles” (1987)

Mikhail L. Skoptsov
4 min readDec 6, 2020

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What does Del Griffith really mean when he claims he doesn’t have one?

Photo by Jimmy Conover on Unsplash

Something that puzzled me as I re-watched the comedy classic Planes, Trains and Automobiles (1987, dir. John Hughes) this past Thanksgiving was the final reveal that shower curtain ring salesman Del Griffith (John Candy) didn’t have a home, a detail that didn’t seem entirely consistent with what the picture had established about Del previously. So, I want to talk about the film’s ending and what I think it really means.

The dominant reading appears to be that Del is literally a homeless man and has been one since the death of his wife Marie 8 years prior. In other words, he moves around all the time because he doesn’t actually have a place to live. Presumably, had he possessed such a place, he would’ve gone there before Neal Page (Steve Martin) returned to the train station. He could be classified then as a drifter or vagabond. However, the film is somewhat ambiguous when it comes to the actual details of Del’s living situation.

After all, Del has what appears to be a steady job as a salesman, initially carries around 263 dollars in his wallet (not a small sum in 1987), has relatively little trouble covering most travel expenses and possesses a network of clients around the US. Notably, he also says early on that he hasn’t been home in years, as though he has a home but is in some form of exile. And even if one takes his third act claim at face value, the question remains as to how and why exactly he lost his home following the death of his wife. That is, the film leaves the causal link between these two events unspecified.

I raised these points with my girlfriend, and she was also somewhat confused by the revelation. And after we discussed them further in some detail, I’ve come to believe that Del didn’t mean that he was literally a homeless man. Rather, he meant that he had no home in a metaphorical sense. That is, he indeed actually has a physical home, likely a house he bought when he first got married, but he chooses to perpetually travel and work rather than live there, because of the pain it causes him following his wife’s death. Being homeless, from this perspective, is equivalent to living alone.

Screencap: Del finds a “home” in the film’s ending.

Giving a bit more credence to this reading is the fact the picture’s final shooting script features an entire scene (numbered as 180B) following Neal’s return to the train station that actually explains Del’s past in detail and finally allows one a full look inside his mysterious trunk had been cut from the theatrical release. (For more information on what was lost, I recommend viewing this video.) In this deleted scene, Del explicitly states that he sold his house after his wife died of an illness (possibly bone cancer, though it’s not exactly specified) as he “couldn’t handle the thought of rambling around the place” without her there before gathering some of his belongings and heading out on the road.*

*Since the initial publication of this article, a link to the shooting script I had included had been taken down. I have, however, located an earlier revision of the script and included a snippet of this scene here.

Evidently then, the intention of the filmmakers prior to shooting and post-production was that Del indeed didn’t have a physical place to live but only because he actively chooses not to have one. Excising this scene left the meaning of Del’s words and thus his status open to multiple interpretations.

From where I stand, in the final film, while Del technically has a place of residence, he does not view it as a “home” without his wife, without someone that truly cares about him. Taking this interpretation further, one can argue that Del has found a “home” by film’s end in the sense that he has finally come upon a person — Neal — that cares. A “home” then, the film proposes, refers not so much to a place, where you live, but rather to the presence of people that you care about and that care about you in turn.

If you like this article, please consider reading my thoughts on the now-released deleted scenes from the longer early cut of the film here:

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Mikhail L. Skoptsov

I write quality film and TV criticism. Become a member to read all my — and everyone else’s — posts (af-te link): https://mikhail-skoptsov.medium.com/membership