Hallmark’s Believe in Christmas takes a bold meta approach, mocking the cliches that have long characterized its genre. The story is layered with self-awareness and a tongue-in-cheek sensibility, making it a Christmas movie that knows it’s a Christmas movie.
This narrative choice distinguishes it from its holiday counterparts while also risking alienating those who want to embrace the season’s unrestrained sentimentality. At its center, the film follows Beatrice, a reserved New York journalist with a tangled love story, and her best friend Emilia as they travel to Christmasland, a town dedicated to delivering the perfect holiday fantasy.
What starts as a fun escape quickly becomes a strange investigation of what’s real and what’s deception, with a twist that feels like The Truman Show but steeped in tinsel and eggnog.
The most intriguing twist is the town itself—Christmasland—an extravagant holiday theme park with painstakingly orchestrated events and choreographed romance. The film matches the audience’s expectations, introducing Ethan, a charming but suspiciously ideal love interest, and Porter, Emilia’s too-good-to-be-true suitor. These characters cross the line between true connection and artificial holiday cheer, a topic that feels new but occasionally overdone.
In many ways, Believe in Christmas resembles 2019’s A Christmas Movie Christmas or Netflix’s Holidate, which deconstructed the Christmas rom-com format. Whereas those films embraced the insanity of their theme with unbridled humor, Believe in Christmas adopts a more muted, almost meditative approach. It’s a decision that might resonate with viewers looking for something unusual. Still, it can also disappoint others who just want a dose of holiday magic.
Character Studies
Beatrice, played by Meghan Ory, is the emotional focus of Believe in Christmas, but she’s not your standard Hallmark protagonist. Her back story—growing up in foster care and developing a hardened façade toward the holidays—adds an unexpected dimension of complexity to the narrative.
It’s a welcome change from the generic “workaholic in need of holiday cheer” cliche. Beatrice’s hesitancy to embrace the festive mood feels genuine, not contrived, and her motivations, notably her journalistic curiosity, give her agency in a genre that frequently casts its ladies in passive positions.
Her development throughout the film, as she struggles with the ambiguity between Christmasland’s manufactured magic and actual connection, is subtle but powerful. It reminded me of how characters in New Wave masterpieces like Jules et Jim are transformed by their surroundings—not through big epiphanies but through little, cumulative moments of revelation.
Emilia, portrayed with effervescent charm by Lindura, is the perfect Christmas fan. Her exuberant enthusiasm for holiday customs and unwavering faith in the power of joy create an ideal counterpoint to Beatrice’s pessimism. Emilia’s role as the heart of their friendship adds emotional warmth to the story. Still, she is more than just comedic relief or a cheerleader.
Her subplot—navigating her blossoming romance with Porter—reveals a vulnerability similar to Beatrice’s, resulting in a genuine resonance between the two women. Their relationship is perhaps the film’s most interesting dynamic, surpassing the more traditional romance storylines.
In terms of romance, Ethan (John Reardon) and Porter (Kevin Hanchard) are the film’s most obvious references to Christmas movie cliches. With his small-town charm and rustic candor, Ethan feels almost too picture-perfect—which, of course, is the idea. On the other hand, Porter is a smooth-talking billionaire with an angelic voice but questionable intents.
Both guys are purposefully designed to play into the idea of staged holiday romance, leaving the audience—and Beatrice and Emilia—wondering if their feelings are real or merely part of Christmasland’s big illusion. It’s a creative twist, but the film doesn’t always completely realize its potential for delving deeper into these subjects.
The Christmasland Conundrum
At the heart of Believe in Christmas is an unexpected existential question: what happens to authenticity when joy and connection are manufactured? Christmasland, with its snow-dusted streets and meticulously managed rituals, is more than just a festive backdrop; it represents the film’s investigation of faith, connection, and the conflict between true feeling and deception.
The town’s artificial nature, in which individuals and even relationships appear suspiciously scripted, forces the characters and the audience to confront an uncomfortable truth: can something be significant if it is not real?
Christmasland challenges Beatrice, a journalist bound by cynicism and a desire for control, to let go of her guard. Her quest becomes a nuanced meditation on faith—not simply in a religious sense, though the film’s Christian connotations are obvious—but in the unseen forces that influence human connection, similar to the “unseen hand” she’s encouraged to believe in.
Meanwhile, Emilia jumps deeply into the town’s celebrations, only to wonder if her developing romance with Porter is genuine. Their opposing reactions underscore a fundamental theme: our need to ground ourselves in something authentic, especially during a season rife with glorified imagery.
For watchers, Christmasland’s artifice is both seductive and unsettling. On the one hand, it serves as a reminder of the joy traditions may bring, even if they are contrived. On the other hand, it discreetly criticizes how commercialized the holidays have become, encouraging us to look past the glossy exterior.
Finally, the film’s message hits where so many Christmas movies do: the actual meaning of Christmas lies not in nicely wrapped moments but in the messy, unscripted connections we make with others. It’s a familiar sentiment but presented in a reflective and often frightening package.
Tone and Atmosphere
Believe in Christmas achieves a tonal balance that sometimes feels fragmented and whimsical. The film relies largely on humor. Emilia’s witty, self-aware satire on Hallmark cliches delivers some of the most enjoyable moments. Lines like her witty forecast of a “ruggedly handsome blue-collar knight in shining armor” both parody and celebrate the genre’s clichés, setting a joyful, almost humorous tone.
At the same time, the film includes wonderful moments—Beatrice’s progressive thaw as she opens herself to the magic of Christmasland, for example—that try to tug on the heartstrings in the traditional holiday movie style. However, this balancing task is not always flawless. Frustration sets in, especially when the story’s meta components threaten to dominate its emotional core, yanking viewers out of critical moments just as they are about to resonate.
The self-referential tone, while smart, creates an odd disconnect between the audience and the story. The film undermines the emotional engagement it seeks to establish by repeatedly winking at its gimmick. It’s a daring choice, evocative of the experimental playfulness found in a Jean-Luc Godard film—though considerably less radical—but it occasionally feels at odds with the comfortable memories audiences expect from a Christmas movie.
Still, there are moments of great emotional resonance, particularly in Beatrice and Emilia’s friendship. Their bond feels genuine, anchoring the film in relatable human connection even as Christmasland’s artificial perfection threatens to overpower the narrative. This dynamic saves the story from veering too far into parody, allowing viewers to connect with its heart if not necessarily its mind.
Performances and Chemistry
The performances in Believe in Christmas are varied, with the principal actresses delivering the most memorable moments. Meghan Ory’s portrayal of Beatrice is subtle and complex, with her character’s guarded cynicism balanced by genuine moments of vulnerability.
Her picture of someone gradually rediscovering the joy of connection is sophisticated and grounded, avoiding the overblown sentimentality that frequently defines the genre. Lindura’s performance as Emilia steals every moment.
Her infectious energy and wonderful comedic timing provide life to every scene she appears in, making her character’s excitement for Christmasland lovable and credible. Ory and Lindura have tremendous on-screen chemistry, which serves as the film’s emotional backbone. Their dynamic as lifelong friends is genuine, elevating the story in ways that love subplots sometimes fail to do.
However, the male leads are less compelling. On paper, John Reardon’s Ethan is charming enough—a small-town engineer with a golden heart—but his portrayal lacks the spark required to make Beatrice’s romance truly engaging. His chemistry with Ory feels more courteous than passionate, which lowers the relationship’s emotional stakes.
Porter, played by Kevin Hanchard, performs significantly better, conveying a smooth elegance that makes Emilia’s initial attraction to him genuine. However, his character’s too-perfect-to-be-true demeanor feels more like a plot device than a fully realized person.
Notable supporting performances, such as Cathy Jones’ portrayal of Ethan’s kind and wise mother, give the film depth and substance. But it’s Lindura’s Emilia who truly shines, delivering a performance so bright that it almost feels like the film would have been stronger if it focused solely on her story.
Setting the Scene
Christmasland is more than just a setting in Believe in Christmas; it’s a character in its own right, with an almost surreal personality that influences the film’s tone and narrative. The town’s picture-perfect appeal, from its snow-covered streets to its shimmering lights, feels like it sprang straight out of a holiday postcard.
But beyond the celebratory exterior, there is a purposeful artificiality. Every detail—carolers harmonizing on cue, snowball battles erupting like clockwork—feels overly intentional, which is exactly the purpose. Christmasland is more than just a site; it’s an experience, a meticulously designed reminder of what the holidays are “supposed” to look like, which creates both magic and unease.
The town is visually stunning and full of sensual delights. The warm glow of string lights, the brilliant reds and greens of shopfronts, and the persistent veil of “movie snow” all contribute to a pleasant, nostalgic atmosphere. However, the cinematography leans into this ideal perfection with a subtle wink, presenting the town with nearly hyperreal precision. It’s as if the audience is supposed to imagine themselves going through a meticulously prepared set.
This artificial charm determines the story’s intensity. Christmasland serves as a mirror for Beatrice and Emilia, reflecting their ambitions and vulnerabilities. Its festive façade draws them in but also forces them to question what is real, making the town both a narrative catalyst and a decorative background.
Conclusion: Believing in the Movie’s Charm
Believe in Christmas breaks out from the crowded Hallmark holiday lineup by attempting something unexpectedly self-aware. Its meta approach, in which characters freely acknowledge and play with old Christmas movie cliches, instills a sense of humor and modernism geared to a younger, more media-savvy audience.
The film’s best asset, however, is its female leads. Meghan Ory’s quiet portrayal of Beatrice, a lady struggling with the weight of her past and her unwillingness to embrace Christmas, is an emotional anchor that feels genuine. Meanwhile, Lindura’s Emilia provides the ideal counterweight, exuding exuberant excitement and warmth that brightens any environment. Together, their chemistry creates the film’s emotional heartbeat, elevating it above its more predictable moments.
However, believing in Christmas is not without drawbacks. The male leads, while competent, lack the charm required to make their romances memorable or emotionally resonant. John Reardon’s Ethan, in particular, struggles to provide dimension to a character frequently eclipsed by the film’s more vivid personalities. Furthermore, while the meta humor begins strong, it can feel overplayed by the third act, drawing viewers out of the emotional moments when the story needs them to connect.
Nonetheless, the film has unmistakable appeal. With its fun humor, Christmas visuals, and a few genuinely heartfelt moments, it has enough to please both genre fans and those looking for a lighter holiday movie. Believe in Christmas is a movie you could watch with friends for a comfortable evening, laughing at its winks to the audience while appreciating its honest study of holiday magic and friendship.
The Review
Believe in Christmas
Believe in Christmas is a refreshing, self-aware take on the conventional holiday rom-com, led by outstanding performances from Meghan Ory and Lindura. Its ironic humor and examination of authenticity add intriguing complexity. Yet, uneven male protagonists and an overplayed sarcastic edge can undermine its emotional resonance. While it does not innovate the holiday genre, its charm, humor, and heartfelt friendship make it an excellent watch for fans of holiday films searching for a slight twist on tradition.
PROS
- Strong performances from Meghan Ory and Lindura, with great chemistry between the two.
- A fresh and self-aware meta approach that playfully critiques holiday movie tropes.
- Heartwarming exploration of friendship and personal growth.
- Visually appealing with festive, postcard-perfect production design.
- Thoughtful themes of authenticity and the meaning of Christmas.
CONS
- Male leads lack charisma, making the romantic subplots feel underwhelming.
- Overplayed meta humor occasionally disrupts emotional moments.
- Predictable story beats despite its attempts at innovation.
