If you’re anything like me and you spend a truly concerning percentage of your winter break glued to your cellular device – more specifically, to TikTok – I’m sure you’re no stranger to the annual, and infamous, production of Hallmark Christmas movies. Each December, clips from these projects circulate online as we collectively clutch our pearls at the fate of a once-relevant teen star’s career (I’m looking at you, Chad Michael Murray), having clearly sold their pride to the Hallmark devil (the Grinch, if you will) in desperate need of a quick, easy cheque – because isn’t that just the spirit of Christmas? While they aren’t exactly known for their imaginative dialogue or Oscar-worthy performances, these films manage to draw in a steady audience year after year for one simple reason: reliability.

“these Tiktoks call attention to the hidden politics in seemingly-harmless Christmas movies”

You know what you’re getting yourself into when you click onto your chosen festive flick, adorned with a too-perfect cover and some cringe-inducing pun, à la Write before Christmas (essentially, a Christmas-ified To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before). In other words: expectations aren’t high, and investment is minimal. What these films lack in potential for artistic fulfilment, though, they (arguably) make up for in comfort and predictability. No, you’re not going to be reflecting on its haunting cliffhanger for weeks on end, begging the screenwriters for a sequel. Yes, you’ll have some mildly-entertaining, easily-digestible background noise as you chow down on Heroes and inhale ungodly amounts of hot chocolate.

But it’s the formulaic manufacturing in these films that has attracted the most recent wave of online fascination, with creators flocking to mock the tired trope of Big City Girl who reluctantly returns to her home town (subtly named something along the lines of, oh I don’t know, Christmas Town), where she falls head over heels for the suspiciously handsome Christmas Tree farm owner as he teaches her the true meaning of the holiday. It’s heart-warming stuff.

Beyond simply poking fun at the predictability of this, though, the believability of this Happily Ever After is being called into question. Some recent skits have hypothesised that, once December 25th has come and gone, the magic of the protagonists’ love would disappear with the snow. Essentially, that January, and the years to come, would bring a different story entirely – one of unfulfillment and incompatibility, that is. Apparently, one thing Santa did not bring this year was optimism.

“These films, however unserious, don’t exist in a vacuum”

In the context of rising concerns over second-screen viewing – with Netflix, in particular, accused of dumbing down their media to make it followable even to those distracted by their phones – I wonder: could social media, the very beast ripping our attention away from the television, play a part in combatting a near-inevitable decline in media literacy as a result of this film-making tactic?

Now, I haven’t been so far brainrotted that I’ve lost sight of the fact that these Tiktokers are, ultimately, joking around, but I think there’s valid criticism in there as to what an audience can be told to believe – and the kind of messages that production companies should be selling to us.

These films, however unserious, don’t exist in a vacuum. As products of their time, they partake in cultural discussion – and when you read between the lines, a political bias is clear to see. The recurring theme of a woman tossing aside corporate success for the (far more worthy and fulfilling) ‘traditional’ life, for example, propagates the conservative view that the woman’s role is in the home – one increasingly platformed today by far-right figures like Erika Kirk.

“Recognise that it is that deep, after all”

As they (sarcastically) problematise this cliché, these Tiktoks call attention to the hidden politics in seemingly-harmless Christmas movies – one creator, posing as the typical Hallmark female protagonist, even ironically remarked “it’s always been my real dream to give up on my dreams for you”. Though she delivers the line through a laugh as her husband giggles behind the camera, there’s a genuine point being made about the gendered subtext in these films. And this is exactly why these skits are useful. The way I see it, these videos encapsulate the attitude we should hold towards these movies. Never are viewers instructed to stop having fun; the holiday season calls for cosy, easy entertainment, and that’s exactly what Hallmark provides. What we are implicitly encouraged to do is recognise that there’s more going on beneath the wintry wordplay than initially meets the eye. Recognise that it is that deep, after all.

In this era of political extremism, as cult followings become commonplace, it’s more crucial than ever to be able to think for yourself. And if what we take from our seasonal scrolling is the essentiality of questioning what we’re told, of looking beyond the surface at what’s really being said, it’ll have been our most productive stint on the app yet.

So, this January, as you slowly leave your festive bubble and return to the real world, think back to the mindless media you half-consumed in the weeks before. Don’t write these films off as surface-level in their simplicity – there’s always something bigger at play, if you’re willing to look for it. You never know what could be happening when you’re not paying attention.