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When I first discovered the existence of made-for-television Christmas movies, maybe 15 years ago, they struck me as sentimental and anti-feminist. Also, they seemed to be made for older people. The leads were always floundering in midlife until their romantic and professional lives were reformed through the magic of Christmas. Then, one December morning, I awoke to find that I had transformed into the target demographic. I am older now, and the movies are made just for me.
The crop of Christmas movies released this year — broadcast most prominently on the Hallmark Channel, though increasingly rivaled by Netflix’s holiday machine — are sprinkled with millennial bait. They feature weathered stars from nostalgic childhood properties and crib plots and vibes from touchstone films. They have anticipated my critiques, modulating the melodrama with self-conscious winks and dialing up the sexual innuendo.
Romantic comedies are about one party lowering her defenses and another raising his game until they finally meet on level ground. That’s what’s happened here: The bad Christmas movies grew more cynical, and I grew softer. As I neared the end of “Our Little Secret,” a Netflix Christmas movie starring Lindsay Lohan, I actually cried.
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What’s happening to me? In recent years, my feelings about work, romantic love, big city living, small town charm and secular holiday cheer have not appreciably changed. It’s my relationship to rote sentimentality that has shifted. Recently I have felt so pummeled by stress and responsibility that I have found it difficult to turn on a compelling new television show at the end of the day. I have no extra energy to expend familiarizing myself with unknown characters, deciphering twists or even absorbing scenes of visual interest.
What I’ve been looking for, instead, is a totally uncompelling new television show — one that expects nothing from me, and that gives me little in return. The bad Christmas movie’s beats are so consistent, its twists so predictable, its actors and props so loyally reused, it’s easy to relax drowsily into its rhythms. The genre is formulaic, which makes for a kind of tradition. Now it plays through the winter like a crackling fireplace in my living room.
