The Hallmark effect

What predictable holiday stories remind us about ourselves.

At the final Evensong before the holiday season, Headmaster Stephen Beatty spoke about light, hope, and the enduring appeal of holiday movies.

By Stephen Beatty ‘86, Headmaster

[voiceover]

She was the only child of the widowed postmaster in a rural Pennsylvania town. As comfortable behind the wheel of a tractor as she was in the library where she studied hard and showed an aptitude for finance that eventually attracted the attention of some of the most prestigious banks in the country.

She’d left her rural town for the big city where her career blossomed. She found an apartment just off Central Park and enjoyed the finest art galleries, sporting events, and elegant restaurants Manhattan had to offer.

He was raised in wealth and opulence as the heir apparent to the throne of a tiny, eastern European principality. Well educated at the finest boarding schools of Europe, he was a man of the arts, athletics and culture. He’d participated in the Olympic games as a fencer and lectured at the Sorbonne on the topic of ancient Persian weaving.

Their paths were never destined to cross until fate stepped in. His jealous half-brother deposed him to claim the throne for himself. Destitute and eager for a fresh start, he settled in a Pennsylvanian farming community where his knowledge of the forest and sharp blades brought him to work in a sawmill on the edge of a wintery forest.

As the Christmas season approached her father fell ill. Reluctantly he reached out to his only child and wondered, perhaps, if she’d leave New York City, come back home, back to the small town post office and take over turn her talents to tending to the family business so he could see to the delivery of his final cards and carefully wrapped parcels.

This Holiday season two star crossed strangers find each other in Hallmark’s production of Just in Time for Christmas. Laugh, cry and feel the magic of the Holiday Season this year.

This movie trailer, of course, is not a real thing. This isn’t an actual movie. I made it all up. And yet, my shallow dip into the narratives and tropes of the Holiday offerings on the Hallmark network (My God. There’s a Hallmark network!) lead me to believe I’m not far off.

If you’ve seen any of these you likely can predict what’s next. The charming small town is dusted with snow as the accidental meeting between the two improbably attractive protagonists takes place. There may be beginner skating lessons, assuredly a last minute misunderstanding and inevitable reconciliation under twinkling lights.

Ultimately the audience is left knowing that yes, it all works out. His throne is restored and her acumen for finance saves the principality from bankruptcy. And yes, the principality’s secret service, once again loyal to him, even helps make sure the mail is delivered on time ahead of the blizzard that settles on the log cabin he’s just finished building with his rugged yet well manicured hands, isolating the new couple from the world.

The popularity of these formulaic movies is an undeniable phenomenon. And I don’t think it’s complicated to understand why. In a world marked by challenge, polarity, uncertainty and hard things, we want, especially at Christmas, comfort and magic. A soft place of peace and love.

My movie plot is fiction. It’s satire. But there is something undeniable in the lessons learned not from the story told in the unlikely plot, but in the simple hopes that we just really want to come true and the comfort they provide for us.

We want to believe that misunderstandings are temporary and resolution is quick.

We want to believe that human relations bend toward reconciliation rather than rupture.

We want to believe that fate, the universe, luck or something beyond our control is watching out for us and also wants a fairytale ending.

The settings of small towns and snow covered main streets, cozy family homes and friendly neighbours, are intangible places of belonging. To use my favourite metaphor about our school, these are villages where people still look out for one another and where quiet gestures of kindness and care are just assumed rather than exceptional.

And, in another regular trope from me in this pulpit, these movies remind us that small acts of love matter. I know even the most optimistic of us can be made to feel powerless. The problems are too big, the divisions too entrenched. But Hallmark stories insist that ordinary goodness—baking cookies for a neighbour, repairing a relationship, organizing a community event—still have meaning. That peace on earth begins, always, with peace between people. It is light multiplied by light.

So the appeal of Hallmark Christmas movies is not merely that they are charming, festive diversions. It is that they offer a counter-narrative to cynicism which seems to carry the day the other 11 months of the year. They model a gentler world and whisper to us that such a world is still possible. In seasons of darkness, they let us practice seeing the light.

I’ve spoken before about dark and light at this time of the year. About our yearning for light. We live in the northern hemisphere and we are approaching the winter solstice, the shortest period of daylight of the year. In its simplest form, this longing for light is why so many celebrations this time of year are centered around lights.

In homes where families are celebrating Diwali, Hanukkah, and Christmas, candles, strings of lights and oil lamps are lit. Light beats back darkness.

There is light in the traditions we also long for, and return to at this time of the year. Going home; another overcooked trope of the Hallmark film. For many of us, we are eagerly awaiting our families returning to our homes. We see old friends and relatives that we only see during the holidays. We give and receive gifts. We use words like Joy, Peace, Happy, and Merry in cards and salutations. There is light and comfort in these things. They can be the cozy, soft, gentle predictable places of the Hallmark movie. We go on holiday at mid day next Wednesday. No school for 18 days. That in and of itself is something that is joyful and certainly light.

At its best the Christmas season can be a reminder of the best of us. A reminder of what we want to remember as the best of us.

This can also be a difficult time for people. I know some of our homes will be missing someone at the family gathering this year; some for the first time. Sometimes this season can be too poignant a reminder of things or people lost. Set against the light of the season, this darkness can be particularly difficult.

Indeed I don’t want to head into the break without acknowledging the important and loved people in our community who haven’t been with us in our village: Joseph, Ashleigh, and Vilma. We are not whole without them and we are standing by ready to welcome them back.

The truth is, of course, the Hallmark movies aren’t real. And yet we’re drawn to their light. The truth is, of course, the best intentions of the Holiday season and our Christmas traditions will come with disappointments, family arguments and challenges. And yet, like the rerun of the favorite movies, we get into the cupboard under the stairs, untangle the string of lights, bake and decorate the cookies and seek for the light in the dark. Maybe that optimism that there’s still some magic in Christmas is actually what we need most.

And, of course, the light is about more than the plot of the movie or the glow of the fire or the lights on the tree.

Last week in this space we were reminded about the traditions of Hanukkah that many of our families celebrate. The flickering flame of the menorah trying to reach up is a reminder that we can reach higher and be better. It’s a symbol of the spirituality that is part of all of us. We can be that light in the darkness.

In this season of giving, let your gift be light in darkness. Let your light be kindness. The light of being the first to apologize and to forgive. The light of a small act of kindness. The light of grace and goodwill.

A warm drink, or a meal or a place out of the cold for someone who needs it.

A kind word. Reaching to someone you feel might be sad or lonely.

Do something good. Shovel a walk or help carry bags. Check in on someone who might need a friend. If you’d like an easy way to be that light, grade 9 student Jackson has invited us to write a card to seniors who might be alone this Holiday. Address it “To someone special” and sign it with your name and include the school name if you like. Leave them with Ms Baby or Ms. Ryan next week and Jackson will make sure they are delivered to seniors who may otherwise not receive anything.

Beat back the darkness of the winter season by the light that is in you.

We are drawn from darkness to light. And we can be that light for each other.

“Walk in the light of your fire and in the sparks you have kindled.”

And, to cite a better seasonal film, “That’s what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.”

Whatever you celebrate, enjoy your family, your time, be Merry and find Peace.