Basking in the Hallmark Halo

Consuming simple culture in dark times

Nov 19, 2024

good vibes only text — Photo by MARK ADRIANE on Unsplash

I was going to write all about my Herculean (or Sisyphean) efforts to combat the November malaise that has settled upon me like a wet, gray blanket on a cold day.

Part-way through that exercise, I bored myself silly and didn’t like the whiny misanthrope I was fast becoming. Even the remedies I concocted to combat my sour mood rang false.

So I quit writing about that.

Instead, I’m reflecting on why Hallmark holiday romance movies work and how they reflect current research on happiness.

Now, I’m not a Hallmark kind of gal. I prefer my fiction and films to run dark and complex. It tells you a lot that one of my favorite discoveries is a lengthy, slow, and relentlessly dour German science fiction drama on Netflix called, appropriately, Dark. There is not a light-hearted scene in the whole darn thing, and boy, was that ever satisfying.

But…and this is a big but…

There are times when it pays to deliberately escape our own natures, for a while. As I am one of those people whose natural temperament trends toward a state that you would not call “happy,” I’ve learned to recognize when it’s good for my mental health to take a little break from myself.

And this is one of those times.

So I’ve broken with my normal protocol and watched two holiday Hallmark movies, a few days apart. Naturally, as a writer, I was interested in analyzing what made them tick and why they’re so darned popular.

I kind of long to write one, too—to dwell in a fictional Hallmark world for a stretch. But that’s a subject for another time.

First, a stipulation:

Generally speaking, Hallmark film scripts are riddled with clichés, stock characters, and very thin B-plots, if there’s any at all. Racial and class dynamics are often concerning, as in the white heroine’s best friend (sidekick) who is (a) either a light-skinned, mixed-race person with no back story or conflict of her own or (b) another white person with a clearly inferior intellect or social position relative to the heroine. (I haven’t watched Hallmark movies featuring Black protagonists, so I can’t comment on those.)

Now setting all that aside, let’s look at three components that suggest where the power resides in these films.

Streamlined World-Building

Novelists are taught to develop complex worlds to captivate readers—to wow them with highly believable, richly layered scenes and settings. A Hallmark film is like a palate cleanser, a dish of light sorbet after a rich and heavy meal. The world in most Hallmark romances is clean—literally, the streets are clean and every scene is either brightly lit, or dimly lit strictly for romantic purposes. These worlds are also devoid of broader conflicts, such as war, poverty, injustice, and so forth.

Simplicity can be a source of pleasure. As author Mark Manson1 (The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck) notes, “Pleasure is the most superficial form of life satisfaction and, therefore, the easiest.” Manson isn’t thrilled about this. His bigger point is that we often mistake the pursuit of pleasure for the pursuit of happiness. And I suppose he’s right. But we needn’t always be absolutists. Pursuing superficial, momentary pleasures—such as one derives from the simplified reality of a Hallmark movie—is nothing to be ashamed of. If this were all that one watched, well, that would be a different story.

I submit that consuming entertainment that is simple by design is a healthy and productive way to deal with a reality that is not remotely simply. It’s a relief, and I cannot see the harm in that. All things in moderation.

Satisfying Predictability

In fiction, if you learn the murder’s or the victim’s identity on page one, then the rest of the book sets about complicating the circumstances and motives surrounding the big event. Despite knowing the ultimate outcome, you will encounter many surprises and reversals along the way.

Hallmark films operate on a somewhat streamlined version of this premise. You know within the first fifteen minutes, if not sooner, which characters are destined to fall in love. Even in a film with a bait-and-switch (Not this guy! That other guy!), it’s easy to see through the intended misdirection.

This is by design, of course. The pleasure (there it is again) lies in going along for the ride to see how the lovers end up together, not if they will. This is enjoyable for the same reason we watch favorite films, or read favorite books, over and over. We already know how the story ends, but we enjoy the ride. (I suppose taking a literal ride, on a roller coaster, is similar: You know where and how you end up, but the ride itself offers a short-term thrill.)

Predictable content offers a respite from our highly unpredictable real world. It can even be restful, and that’s its value.

Delicious Degree of Control

Once you’re given yourself up to a world that is simple and predictable by design, you reap the rewards of feeling totally in control. And in Manson’s view, control is the locus of happiness.

“People who feel they have little to no control over where they’re going experience low baseline levels of happiness regardless of the destinations and experiences they have along the way.”

He adds, “…the trick is to learn how to take more control over our lives, to feel like we have more control on where we end up and how we get there.” (Italics his.)

Watching a Hallmark film gives us the illusion of control by presenting a world where the main characters invariably steer their own destinies and end up exactly where they want and need to be. An obstacle or two crops up along the way, but those obstacles are quite easily dispatched. It’s the difference between stumbling over a soft toy on the floor and tripping over a rake that rises to slam you in the face. The former leaves no real mark, whereas the latter can do significant damage.

One other aspect of control is reflected in the characters themselves. In a nutshell, they know themselves—or discover their true purpose in very short order. They are at peace with their natures—or learn to be, again in short order. Inner turmoil is short-lived among these folks. They are at one with their destinies; their needs and desires are aligned with their fates.

There is no tripping over a rake in a Hallmark movie. We take enormous pleasure (!) in watching the characters solve their problems—where the stakes are modest, at best—in record time. We wish the world worked that way for us, but of course, it does not. And so we consume culture that offers us the illusion of how life could be, if only the real world weren’t so difficult.

The Hallmark movies I’ve chosen to watch so far had to feature themes or backdrops that interested me. I love watching old black-and-white movies and classic musicals. So it’s not surprising that the first Hallmark movie I watched featured a time-travel trope, where the present-day heroine falls in love with a 1940s film star on the set of his black-and-white holiday movie. The period costumes were especially enjoyable.

Believe it or not, that film was more believable than the other one I watched, involving an accountant who quits her job, meets a handsome dancer, and flies to Paris to compete with him in a dance contest. But there was some dancing, so that helped.

I will, of course, continue to consume a lot of dark, depressing programming. But I’ve enjoyed my extra break from reality, and have every intention of pursuing simple cultural pleasures wherever I find them. Especially now.

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WRANGLING THE DOUBT MONSTER: FIGHTING FEARS, FINDING INSPIRATION

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