Hallmark Flu
I woke up this morning with red eyes swollen shut and a sore throat. It happens every year about this time. Hallmark Flu.
Morbid curiosity drove me to view Christmas Shoes. The song that inspired the movie, with its cliches and forced sentimentality, is a perfect backdrop for Hallmark and Rob Lowe. And NPH practically owes his comeback to starring as a doctor (surprisingly not Doogie Howser) who finds his Christmas Spirit (and his mother's shoes) in part two, titled Christmas Blessing. Interesting coincidences: both Lowe and NPH spoofed themselves in goofy coming of age movies (Lowe in Wayne's World, and NPH in Harold & Kumar) and as a result breathed air back into their sagging careers; Angus T. Jones plays the ailing child in Christmas Blessing and now both he and NPH star in hit TV shows Monday nights on CBS.
The Hallmark Formula is basic and brilliant. First, a family moves to a new town. Second, there is either a sickly child or dying parent. Third, a child (sometimes the sick one) is so filled with Christmas Spirit that they infect the entire town with their faith. Fourth, there will be a prayer, a miracle, possibly a death, and lots of caroling by the town do-gooders. Finally, the person who lacks faith will find it, and the town's people who have always had that faith will exchange priggish looks before, during, and after the transformation.
When we married, T should have received an instruction manual. One of the instructions would have read, "For care during the holidays, do not leave this person alone with a television, remote, and Hallmark movies." During this long Thanksgiving weekend I watched not one, not two, not three, not even four, but FIVE HALLMARK MOVIES. I started with Christmas Shoes and its sequel (I still can't quite wrap my head around NPH as the boy who bought his mother fancy-cheap red "dancing" shoes, which of course brings to mind the expression "Only hookers and children wear red shoes," but that's a subject for another blog), and ended with November Christmas. And let us not forget the plethora of Hallmark commercials that neatly sutured my emotions from movie to merchandise. I've had my fill of tissues and tears. The cure for this flu? No more Hallmark movies. At least, not five in one weekend.
Morbid curiosity drove me to view Christmas Shoes. The song that inspired the movie, with its cliches and forced sentimentality, is a perfect backdrop for Hallmark and Rob Lowe. And NPH practically owes his comeback to starring as a doctor (surprisingly not Doogie Howser) who finds his Christmas Spirit (and his mother's shoes) in part two, titled Christmas Blessing. Interesting coincidences: both Lowe and NPH spoofed themselves in goofy coming of age movies (Lowe in Wayne's World, and NPH in Harold & Kumar) and as a result breathed air back into their sagging careers; Angus T. Jones plays the ailing child in Christmas Blessing and now both he and NPH star in hit TV shows Monday nights on CBS.
The Hallmark Formula is basic and brilliant. First, a family moves to a new town. Second, there is either a sickly child or dying parent. Third, a child (sometimes the sick one) is so filled with Christmas Spirit that they infect the entire town with their faith. Fourth, there will be a prayer, a miracle, possibly a death, and lots of caroling by the town do-gooders. Finally, the person who lacks faith will find it, and the town's people who have always had that faith will exchange priggish looks before, during, and after the transformation.
When we married, T should have received an instruction manual. One of the instructions would have read, "For care during the holidays, do not leave this person alone with a television, remote, and Hallmark movies." During this long Thanksgiving weekend I watched not one, not two, not three, not even four, but FIVE HALLMARK MOVIES. I started with Christmas Shoes and its sequel (I still can't quite wrap my head around NPH as the boy who bought his mother fancy-cheap red "dancing" shoes, which of course brings to mind the expression "Only hookers and children wear red shoes," but that's a subject for another blog), and ended with November Christmas. And let us not forget the plethora of Hallmark commercials that neatly sutured my emotions from movie to merchandise. I've had my fill of tissues and tears. The cure for this flu? No more Hallmark movies. At least, not five in one weekend.
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