Just hours before leaving for my big Thanksgiving dinner, I curled up on the couch with our cats Thursday morning and watched a movie that I suddenly realized was strangely and completely appropriate for the holiday season.

As 79-year-old former socialite Edith Bouvier Beale and her 57-year-old live-in daughter Edie sat on their respective beds in their pajamas eating ice cream out of individual tubs in the classic 1976 documentary “Grey Gardens,” it struck me as a beautiful family moment. Here are these two women living in a dilapidated 28-room mansion, bound together by equal measures of guilt and need for companionship, “performing” for Albert and David Maysles, the award-winning documentarians who would soon turn them into cult icons.

Of course, they were just arguing amongst themselves and telling stories, but the hilarious, self-aware banter of the Beales has since become a rallying cry for eccentrics everywhere. Little Edie’s unique fashion sense (she’s never seen without a scarf around her head in the entire film) and self-described “staunch” personality inspired a piece in Vogue magazine, countless photo shoots around the world, and earned her diva status in gay culture.

“Grey Gardens” became the first documentary to ever be adapted into a musical, and inspired two more plays and an Emmy-winning HBO film starring Jessica Lange and Drew Barrymore.

A new 2K digital restoration of the film is brand new on Blu-ray from The Criterion Collection, packaged with its 2006 follow-up feature “The Beales of Grey Gardens,” which was put together from additional footage shot at the time of its predecessor.

Some people see “Grey Gardens,” which showcases the isolated, interdependent relationship of Big Edie and Little Edie — the aunt and first cousin of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis — as exploitation, but I disagree.

The movie goes beyond fly-on-the-wall cinema verite because the Maysles gained the trust of their subjects in order to get deeply personal footage — and the Beales genuinely loved the attention, even competing with each other for it. Unlike many documentaries, “Grey Gardens” is clear about the fact that a two-man team is present at all times. Sometimes you hear the men conversing with the Beales, and Albert even frames himself into one memorable shot, looking through a mirror.

At one point, each woman was well-known among the upper-crust social circles of the Hamptons. Big Edie was a talented singer (in the film, the elder Beale sings along to a record of her singing when she was young), and her daughter once pursued a career as a dancer in New York City.

By 1952, however, that was all over and Little Edie — who was 35, the same age as Big Edie when she and her husband were separated — returned home to live with her mother permanently. The house fell into disrepair, and by 1971 it was raided by the health department, who found the women without running water, living in squalor.

Maybe “Grey Gardens” has already become a regular film for holiday viewing in some circles. It certainly is as deep and honest a portrayal of a unique family relationship as has ever been put to film.

On one hand, it’s a celebration of unconventional lifestyles. The Beales lived independently, and rarely left the house. Everything they needed was delivered, and although they lived in poverty, they had each other. The dialogue is so funny and revealing, it’s a wonder it wasn’t scripted. Because of their natural wit and eccentricity, the movie is entertaining as hell — and it can be used as a litmus test for one’s acceptance of people who live in the margins of society.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uhVNR4B1zzo

On the other hand, the movie can be seen as tragedy. Echoes of regret and unfulfilled dreams ring out through the entire film. Little Edie says numerous times that she still sees herself as a little girl, and her youthful exuberance illustrates it, especially as she puts together an impromptu dance for the camera.

The Beales were delighted with “Grey Gardens” because they were totally comfortable in their skin. As Albert Maysles said, they trusted the “vulnerability of being themselves.” There was no difference between what was filmed and what wasn’t.

On the commentary track, the filmmaker mentions that when he and his brother stopped filming and began packing their gear up outside, the dialogue between the two women never changed. The Beales were still performing — for each other.