First things first: Yes, I’m qualified to review a Hallmark movie. I started watching them in bulk during the first pandemic Christmas, as a kind of soft protest against the onslaught of premium content aimed at telling us what we already know: Life can be pretty bleak sometimes, the rich and powerful always win, yadda yadda. By the time my wife and I finished Ozark, I was searching for something that was both mind-numbingly predictable and relentlessly—almost painfully—positive. (I initially took refuge in Everybody Loves Raymond, but got so fed up with Robert’s lack of a personal life that I decided that, too, was unenjoyable.) No hidden surprises. No character who decides to spiral into some kind of self-destructive behavior. No set of bones being uncovered beneath the floorboards. Just a lot of happy people walking around underneath a blanket of fake snow in some made-up small town where the biggest problem is figuring out how to write a smash holiday song that will save the family jam making business (an actual plot point).
I started breaking down Hallmark favorites on a podcast with friends—some of you may have listened to Around the NFL and now Heed the Call—as a vehicle to talk about my strange hobby, as well as a vehicle to promote the holiday-based charity that I am a board member of called the Greater Newark Holiday Fund (you can learn more about this amazing charity here).
