Hallmark Doesn’t Need You. But You Might Need Hallmark

This Holiday season, the internet seems to be turning out ‘In Defence of the Hallmark Christmas Movie’. Qualified by some as “comfort food for your soul”. Self-professed film snobs admitting that nothing “and I mean nothing,” makes them feel the way a Hallmark Christmas movie can make them feel. A feminist perspective, arguing “we don’t need to shame the heroines who choose to give up their old life for a new one. In Wintergreen. With endless cookies, carols, festive decor, and presumably, quality intimate time with Hudson, the handsome lumberjack rancher.” (preach).

Even the most cultured of us @ the New York Times (!) have gotten on board in 2024, with critic Amanda Hess declaring that she has officially ‘aged into’ the bad (*which I want to deem categorically subjective here) Christmas movie “… [its] beats so consistent, its twists so predictable, its actors and props so loyally reused, it’s easy to relax drowsily into its rhythms.’

But if these films are merely a drowsy rhythm for a joyful escape … if they are so ‘bad’ … how do you explain the 80+ million viewers they hooked last year? (forced into watching against their will? afflicted with poor taste?). Or what about the impressive list of artists who’ve found a creative home within the channel’s milieu? And why, then, did I find myself just now signing off a convo in real life with:

“don’t let too much time pass between you and the people who are important to you” — a quote sourced directly from the movie that served as my own gateway into this ‘formulaic’ film world …

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Fade in: Train station.
The camera follows a woman.
Hesitant, she boards the train. Not yet knowing this trip would take her through the rugged terrain of her own heart.

There I stood.

In a torrential downpour outside New York City’s Penn Station.

I was about to board The Christmas Train.

Or, rather, I had just watched The Christmas Train (2017) — a Hallmark movie that follows a writer taking a train over the holidays in search of inspiration. And I was about to board ‘a train’ ~ around ~ Christmas … I suppose in search of the same.

Like the critics above, I’d found comfort in the film’s rhythm. However, my interest — judging by a v rash decision to spend my 30th bday, alone, aboard an Amtrak from New York to LA (by way of Kansas City thru Flagstaff (?)) — had evolved ever-so-slightly beyond theirs, veering towards what some might deem obsession (at best) and a crisis worthy of professional intervention (at worst).

In my opinion, I was just deeply moved by the story and genuinely resonated with its lead. Like Dermot Mulroney’s Tom Langdon, I found myself (and this movie) lost between worlds — disconnected from my purpose, from the people who shared it. I was trying (and seemingly failing) to navigate a major life transition and had historically felt most @ peace in transit — specifically on a train. Perhaps inherited, like Tom, whose ‘dad had a thing for trains’, from my own, who spent the nights of my childhood working them. Or from my mom’s father, who rode illegally to get from A to B. My privilege certainly felt as I booked a berth for myself on this one.

The first 24 hours were rough, not gonna lie. Unexpected confrontations with self. With past. A lot of time spent existentially observing my reflection in the train window. Scrolling through old photos, texting friends, manically seeking communion.

I started doubting the formula, joining the chorus of critics deeming it idealistic. Began questioning the likelihood that my internal strife was going to be resolved through this inspired journey upon which a collection of quirky strangers would bestow transformative guidance. A ‘story’ to catalyse some sort of return to self, to guide me ~ back on track ~.

My notes app, almost completely ignored save for:

But not long after making this incredibly profound entry, I suppose I finally recalled the words of Danny Glover’s prolific Max Powers — “the inspiration is out there, not in [your room]” — and, at some fateful point between Topeka and Santa Fe, was jolted into the moment via convo with the engineer.

He’d originally set his sights on making movies. Even went so far as to enrol in film school along the way — though, ultimately, was unable to deny ‘the train’ as his true calling. “Movies were someone else’s dream”.

And so, the narrative began to take shape, enveloping me in that familiar rhythm. The rest of the cast, and their Hallmarkian wisdom, promptly followed.

• A woman, closest in casting to Joan Cusack’s character — busy writing a memoir “in the process, which is a messy place to be”.

• A man who loved to take the train “because in 10 years, trains could be a thing of the past. And what will we do then? Tell people how wonderful they were to ride”.

• A young couple from the UK — finding their way back together through shared contrast with their environment, who kept insisting that I was “so brave to go it alone”.

• And a kindred spirit of a similar age and vibe … “just heading home”.

By nightfall, these characters (+ more, uncredited) all came together in celebration of my crossing of some threshold. Gathered in the dining car, someone serenaded the crew with a handmade string instrument. An Amish family inquired politely ‘if they could partake’. And my kindred spirit bought out the entire stock of sparkling wine from the Amtrak shop (a minor but v welcome departure from the Hallmark storyline).

My blank notes app, now populated by thoughts like this:

And a concluding sentiment shared by one of these strangers that it was I who brought us all together — a scene which, like the emotional peak of any Hallmark, reduced me almost immediately, and completely, to tears. It was somehow through my intervention that ‘The Christmas Train’ had come into being (!)(?) Upon reflection…the material was all present — as I suppose it always is. It just requires a surrender to the present — to the circumstances we find ourselves in and the lessons that emerge, if and when we let them. Like every Hallmark writer, it was my job to mine the mundane for some ecstatic truth and illuminate the universal arc of a personal journey.

While I did not meet the love of my life on (this) train, like Tom, I certainly found my way home. V literally, the train carried me back to family for the holidays, where I was grateful to engage in traditions so lovingly gloried by this industry. And even more-so metaphorically, once I was able to get over the feeling of having just experienced something straight out of The Truman Show, this trip brought me back to parts of myself that I’d lost somewhere along the way. “Maybe you just got off track”.

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As Hallmark icon, Autumn Reeser, eloquently put it in an interview with Between Screens — “this theme of coming home…overlays perfectly with the journey of the human psyche, with individuation, as Jung put it. [It’s] the desire to come home, to come back home to the heart…looking for the Hieros Gamos, for the inner union within us. That’s actually the higher layer on top of these movies, even though they seem simple and formulaic, there’s that universal archetype that’s underneath them.”

A Hallmark Christmas Movie is not reducible to its ‘formula’. Or perhaps, in some sense, it is — putting it in great company of almost every story ever told. With all myth and fable. This formula is not contrived — it is how we make sense of things. It is how we heal. It is faith in lieu of (or in conversation with) religion. Timeless tales converted for the colloquial, with and through, familiar voices and tones. It is ritual. Like any tradition we return to, particularly over the holidays, it exists as a kind of hearth. Or a talisman to move us across thresholds, offering prompts for reflection, for reunion, for reorientation … re:re:re::::: (the cyclical nature of a human existence).

Sure, Hallmark has made a colossal brand out of honouring these things — the formula, the ritual, the age-old traditional practice of storytelling. It is a brand that goes back decades and formats. Well before the 41 new Christmas movies it so kindly supplied us with this year, it was more prominently adapting works of Shakespeare for its ‘Hall of Fame’ programming (still the longest running primetime series in the history of TV). Before this, It was supporting the production of radio-plays, fostering the careers of some of the greatest writers and performers of our time. And prior, even, to making its undeniable mark on the greeting card market, its founding family quite literally INVENTED wrapping paper.

So to be quite honest, Hallmark has the holidays pretty firmly locked and doesn’t necessarily need you to get on board. It doesn’t require acknowledgement from critics or the defence of cultural gatekeepers (though I’m sure its owners don’t mind the free marketing). However, if you are anything like me, particularly me circa December 2022, seeking meaning, connection, (and, quite clearly, therapy) — you might just find something that you require, embedded extremely accessibly within their expansive holiday catalogue.

Or, in the much wiser words of my friend Tom Langdon (by way of The Christmas Train’s writers Neal H. Dobrofsky, Tippi Dobrofsky and David Baldacci):

“I’m not saying that riding a train [*watching a Hallmark] will change your life But it certainly changed mine.”

My current Christmas canon (*extremely subject to seasonal change):

#10 * Write Before Christmas (2019)

Reasons to love: Chad Michael Murray, iconic Hallmark Christmas Card brand crossover, Chad Michael Murray.
[[“You spend so much time taking pictures of other people's lives. How about you start living your own”]]

#9 * Tis the Season to be Irish (2024)

Reasons to love: centres the revitalisation of a dilapidated cottage in Ireland and the classic Hallmark argument for preservation over modernisation.
 [[“The inevitable never happens and the unexpected constantly occurs.”]]

#8 * Our Italian Christmas Memories (2022)

Reasons to love: a delicate approach to coping w dementia, food-forward, on the subject of recipe as legacy.
[[“It’s like the pyramids — he’s living in the past and present at the same time.”]]

#7 * A Little Christmas Charm (2020)

Reasons to love: vintage stores, charm bracelets, a shared mission, and the fearless pursuit of creative dreams.
[[“You’re never going to get anywhere making the safest choice possible.”]]

#6 * Sugarplummed (2024)

Reasons to love: a family- & female-friend centred story, meta-Hallmark.
[[“it's the imperfections of the holidays that amount to an entirely different perfection.”]]

#5 * Christmas at The Golden Dragon (2023)

Reasons to love: one of those multi-layered multi-character plot lines, for navigating loss and change.
[[”Christmas looks different for everyone. Maybe it's embracing the change to create new traditions, or allowing those we love to become a part of achieving our dreams. It could be letting go of expectations around what you think the holidays should be. pushing forward with resilience in hope to create a new normal, and understanding that our challenges don’t define us. Christmas makes us realise we may actually find everything we want if we adjust our perspective. And it doesn’t matter if we throw festive parties or watch football or even roll dumplings. Christmas always feels the same if you spend it with family. Because the greatest gifts can’t be travelled to, owned, earned, worn, or consumed. The greatest gift we can give ourselves and others is living in the present and being grateful for the lessons we’ve learned throughout the year.”]]

#4 * A Biltmore Christmas (2023) Reasons to love: a classic time travelling film about old Hollywood.
[[“It’s my absolute favourite movie, and being here feels like I’m in it.”]]

#3 * Sister Swap: A Hometown Holiday / Christmas in the City (2021) Reasons to love: 2 movies with same footage (v experimental filmmaking), centres the revitalisation of a dilapidated small-town cinema.
[[“People leave pieces of themselves behind. Not just in places, but in the people they love.”]]

#2 * Take me Back for Christmas (2023) Reasons to love: mother-daughter storyline, a delicate approach to coping with grief that will 100% make you cry. [[“Nothing in life is guaranteed. All we can do is appreciate the time we have with one another, and then the rest is out of our control.”]]

#1 * The Christmas Train (2017) Reasons to love: romance on a train, Joan Cusack / Danny Glover / Dermot Mulroney, pure movie magic.
[[“This is not the story I wanted to write. Sometimes those are the ones that end the best.”]]

Special mentions:

Christmas in Notting Hill (2023) Reasons to love: references to Notting Hill (1999), London @ Christmas.

Finding Mr. Christmas (2024) Reasons to love: hallmark’s version of the bachelor, the channel’s first (v successful) foray into reality TV.

++ follow @‌screen____screen for periodic reccos beyond the holiday catalogue.