We wish you a merry Christmas! A lovely sentiment… except that it’s May. A month when "snow" clogs the storm drains and a middle-aged elf leans on my childhood bakery; ashing on the welcome mat.
In the midst of scenic backdrops of warm gradient autumn hillsides, and vast blue freshwaters, lies the gateway to the north and my hometown: North Bay, Ontario. The birth of the townships is thanks to the Canadian Shield’s rough terrain, creating an optimal place for settlers to colonize. After occupying Nbisiing Anishinaabeg’s territory on the northern bay of Lake Nipissing, the Canadian Pacific Railway, the Canadian National Railways, and the Ontario Northland Railway were established. As a transportation hub, the community's economy boomed, now able to dip into lumber and mining industries. In 1925 North Bay officially became a city and by 1968 it, and the surrounding townships, became the largest municipality, area-wise, in Canada.
In the mid-2000s, my childhood years pass in a blur of dripping vanilla cones, blankets of soft grass, and blazing sun on long walks to the downtown bakery, toonies gripped with might, toes blistering in flip flops. Fast forward to the 2010s, I’m in high school, and on the weekend, I grip my toonies again before slipping them into the change box of the bus. I end up downtown again, or what’s left of it in my quaint, nostalgic escapes. Snow covers the main street, elves in little green onesies prance across the lane, lights of green and red flicker over storefront pavilions. I should be cold, but the sun beats down like it usually does in May. White trailers line the street, pumping exhaust in the air, as the crew rush about in invisible black. The Hallmark people are in town again.
The Hallmark movie is in a league of its own. Often following a basic romance plot involving a princess or cafe owner or city fashion designer returned to her lowly hometown. They always end the same way, the painfully straight couple end up together, the town is saved, blah blah blah. They are known for comically bad acting, a watching experience so easy you’ll end up in a meditative state, and for your inner-tween to see what that random Disney actor is up to. But still, in all its faults, Hallmark Christmas movies are wildly popular; the channel has aired more than 300 Christmas movies since 2009. Although the popularity of these facile flicks is not Hallmark's only secret to success. Productions usually set Hallmark back less than 2 million dollars after Canadian tax breaks, thanks to their cookie-cutter nature. Out of the impressively large number of productions, 15 have used North Bay’s colonial downtown as a backdrop.
In each film, a fresh coat of paint covers our cute cafes, and perfectly curated decor drapes Main Street, while just off-screen newly vacant lots make up the rest of downtown. Burnt-out signs above windows lined with newspapers list dead dreams of failed ventures; diners where retirees met over bad coffee, thrift stores that smelled of mothballs. Actors from surrounding areas are hired to pace around in the background making Main Street seem bustling with the youthful glow of a thriving economy. But when the cheap production ends, the streets are empty again, and the crew leaves behind a glamourous far-off reminder of what downtown once was. In reality, as I grew up, my town disappeared around me. Despite a recent increase, North Bay’s population sank from 52,662 in 2016 to an estimated 48,366 in 2024. With the closure of the Ontario Northland Railway in 2012, it was evident that the future of Northern Ontario was in question.
"Burnt-out signs above windows lined with newspapers list dead dreams of failed ventures; diners where retirees met over bad coffee, thrift stores that smelled of mothballs."
In the 2017 Netflix original Christmas Inheritance, which is one of several movies to bring the Hallmark style to bigger platforms, North Bay’s Main Street is spruced up in phoney holiday decor. The film follows gift shop empire heiress Ellen Langford's (Eliza Taylor) attempts to prove she is a capable little rich girl. She is tasked to deliver a letter to the co-founder of her father’s company, in their cosy hometown of Snow Falls. In the inciting moments between the Barbie and Ken of this movie, Ellen’s suitcase is hit by smooth-talking taxi man Jake Collins (Jake Lacy). North Bay’s heritage museum plays the bus terminal of the fictional town. Moments after stepping off the bus, Ellen is suffocated with roughly a dozen Christmas trees, several holiday markets, and chipper carollers, as a bombardment of decorative stars, candy canes and signage cover the background; all at the bus terminal… for some reason. As the film goes on, snobby Ellen—through the power of community and hard work (cleaning one room badly)—sees Snow Falls in a new light, and Jake in a more handsome one. In the final act, which takes place in the Pro-Cathedral of the Assumption, the church I spent many of my own Christmases in, we see just how many props Netflix can get their hands on. In my youth, the church was outfitted with one tree and a detailed Nativity scene starring a modestly wrapped Baby Jesus. But at the location for Snow Fall's hotly anticipated silent auction, the church is transformed into a chaotic fever dream of reds, greens, sparkles, and streamers, all taped up on the bricks of North Bay’s beloved cathedral. She ends the night outed as the daughter of Snow Falls’ celeb Jim Langford, inheriting an entire company, and dancing the night away with hunky Jake Lacy. All the glitz and glamour did not give me that warm and cosy Christmas feeling. As Ellen grew to love the town she was from, I saw the image of mine twisted into a glamourized version of itself.
While the couple kiss and the credits roll I can’t stop thinking about how the image on screen is not quite right. I know what they are missing, and as sappy as it is, it’s the real people and the real scenery that make that strip special. Our unique shops, like Degan's, a 133-year-old shoe/antiquities store, run by a handful of card-playing antiques themselves. Or Allison The Bookman, the beloved book store that is one-and-a-half miles of carefully curated literature. Or the Opera Cafe, with cases of delectable treats that had my toonies burning a hole in my sweating child palms. These charms cannot be mimicked with plastic garlands and blonde actresses with a lack of screen presence. In fact, these charms can never be mimicked at all because Hallmark is looking for a magic that lives in my memory; it will always be mine and never theirs because as long as my hometown is in peril, it will always be in the past. The Hallmark Christmas movie lovers can watch the films decked out in all the pretty frills and trees wrapped in shimmering lights, but I'll know what really makes that town shine.
We wish you a merry Christmas! A lovely sentiment… except that it’s May. A month when "snow" clogs the storm drains and a middle-aged elf leans on my childhood bakery; ashing on the welcome mat.
In the midst of scenic backdrops of warm gradient autumn hillsides, and vast blue freshwaters, lies the gateway to the north and my hometown: North Bay, Ontario. The birth of the townships is thanks to the Canadian Shield’s rough terrain, creating an optimal place for settlers to colonize. After occupying Nbisiing Anishinaabeg’s territory on the northern bay of Lake Nipissing, the Canadian Pacific Railway, the Canadian National Railways, and the Ontario Northland Railway were established. As a transportation hub, the community's economy boomed, now able to dip into lumber and mining industries. In 1925 North Bay officially became a city and by 1968 it, and the surrounding townships, became the largest municipality, area-wise, in Canada.
In the mid-2000s, my childhood years pass in a blur of dripping vanilla cones, blankets of soft grass, and blazing sun on long walks to the downtown bakery, toonies gripped with might, toes blistering in flip flops. Fast forward to the 2010s, I’m in high school, and on the weekend, I grip my toonies again before slipping them into the change box of the bus. I end up downtown again, or what’s left of it in my quaint, nostalgic escapes. Snow covers the main street, elves in little green onesies prance across the lane, lights of green and red flicker over storefront pavilions. I should be cold, but the sun beats down like it usually does in May. White trailers line the street, pumping exhaust in the air, as the crew rush about in invisible black. The Hallmark people are in town again.
The Hallmark movie is in a league of its own. Often following a basic romance plot involving a princess or cafe owner or city fashion designer returned to her lowly hometown. They always end the same way, the painfully straight couple end up together, the town is saved, blah blah blah. They are known for comically bad acting, a watching experience so easy you’ll end up in a meditative state, and for your inner-tween to see what that random Disney actor is up to. But still, in all its faults, Hallmark Christmas movies are wildly popular; the channel has aired more than 300 Christmas movies since 2009. Although the popularity of these facile flicks is not Hallmark's only secret to success. Productions usually set Hallmark back less than 2 million dollars after Canadian tax breaks, thanks to their cookie-cutter nature. Out of the impressively large number of productions, 15 have used North Bay’s colonial downtown as a backdrop.
In each film, a fresh coat of paint covers our cute cafes, and perfectly curated decor drapes Main Street, while just off-screen newly vacant lots make up the rest of downtown. Burnt-out signs above windows lined with newspapers list dead dreams of failed ventures; diners where retirees met over bad coffee, thrift stores that smelled of mothballs. Actors from surrounding areas are hired to pace around in the background making Main Street seem bustling with the youthful glow of a thriving economy. But when the cheap production ends, the streets are empty again, and the crew leaves behind a glamourous far-off reminder of what downtown once was. In reality, as I grew up, my town disappeared around me. Despite a recent increase, North Bay’s population sank from 52,662 in 2016 to an estimated 48,366 in 2024. With the closure of the Ontario Northland Railway in 2012, it was evident that the future of Northern Ontario was in question.
"Burnt-out signs above windows lined with newspapers list dead dreams of failed ventures; diners where retirees met over bad coffee, thrift stores that smelled of mothballs."
In the 2017 Netflix original Christmas Inheritance, which is one of several movies to bring the Hallmark style to bigger platforms, North Bay’s Main Street is spruced up in phoney holiday decor. The film follows gift shop empire heiress Ellen Langford's (Eliza Taylor) attempts to prove she is a capable little rich girl. She is tasked to deliver a letter to the co-founder of her father’s company, in their cosy hometown of Snow Falls. In the inciting moments between the Barbie and Ken of this movie, Ellen’s suitcase is hit by smooth-talking taxi man Jake Collins (Jake Lacy). North Bay’s heritage museum plays the bus terminal of the fictional town. Moments after stepping off the bus, Ellen is suffocated with roughly a dozen Christmas trees, several holiday markets, and chipper carollers, as a bombardment of decorative stars, candy canes and signage cover the background; all at the bus terminal… for some reason. As the film goes on, snobby Ellen—through the power of community and hard work (cleaning one room badly)—sees Snow Falls in a new light, and Jake in a more handsome one. In the final act, which takes place in the Pro-Cathedral of the Assumption, the church I spent many of my own Christmases in, we see just how many props Netflix can get their hands on. In my youth, the church was outfitted with one tree and a detailed Nativity scene starring a modestly wrapped Baby Jesus. But at the location for Snow Fall's hotly anticipated silent auction, the church is transformed into a chaotic fever dream of reds, greens, sparkles, and streamers, all taped up on the bricks of North Bay’s beloved cathedral. She ends the night outed as the daughter of Snow Falls’ celeb Jim Langford, inheriting an entire company, and dancing the night away with hunky Jake Lacy. All the glitz and glamour did not give me that warm and cosy Christmas feeling. As Ellen grew to love the town she was from, I saw the image of mine twisted into a glamourized version of itself.
While the couple kiss and the credits roll I can’t stop thinking about how the image on screen is not quite right. I know what they are missing, and as sappy as it is, it’s the real people and the real scenery that make that strip special. Our unique shops, like Degan's, a 133-year-old shoe/antiquities store, run by a handful of card-playing antiques themselves. Or Allison The Bookman, the beloved book store that is one-and-a-half miles of carefully curated literature. Or the Opera Cafe, with cases of delectable treats that had my toonies burning a hole in my sweating child palms. These charms cannot be mimicked with plastic garlands and blonde actresses with a lack of screen presence. In fact, these charms can never be mimicked at all because Hallmark is looking for a magic that lives in my memory; it will always be mine and never theirs because as long as my hometown is in peril, it will always be in the past. The Hallmark Christmas movie lovers can watch the films decked out in all the pretty frills and trees wrapped in shimmering lights, but I'll know what really makes that town shine.