THE CHRISTMAS HEART
A boy. A close knit community. A missing heart. And… an annual “Luminary Event.”
Ever heard of a Luminary Event before? Neither had I, but this tearjerker Hallmark classic will have you believing it’s a Christmas tradition of old.
Each year the chipper community of a small Cleveland suburb come together at Christmas to create the never-quite-explained celebration. But this year, tragedy threatens their tradition. Local teen, basketball star, and newspaper delivery boy Matt Norman suddenly falls ill and needs a heart transplant. With Matt in a coma, his parents Mike and Ann (Meet the Parents’ Terri Polo), and little brother Tommy struggle to maintain their Christmas spirit.
They lack Faith, which becomes the major subject of Gary Yates’ The Christmas Heart. When the characters aren’t talking about the ominously vague Luminary Event (which cannot help but suggest Don DeLillo’s “Airborne Toxic Event”, itself a paranoid mass psychosis) they are talking about faith: whether they have it, how to get it, how it is all they need to face the tragic unfolding events.
Mike is a hardworking snowplough driver whose business is suffering from recession. In an early scene, Mike sifts through post, moaning: “Bill. Bill. Bill. Christmas card. Bill”, a not so subtle indication that his Christmas faith has been shaken by hard times. Ann responds to this worry, and every escalating one, with her favourite refrain: “We just have to have faith!” This seems to be a necessary commodity. Even before Matt’s illness, the Luminary Event has been threatened by local scrooge Bob, who lost his faith in Christmas after the death of his wife. He turns the joyous Luminary Committee meeting into a dull health and safety talk (and thus provides the only thing close to an explanation of what a luminary is – a candle mounted on sand in a glass jar with a festive weather-proof lampshade over the top) and is the first to suggest cancelling the event once tragedy hits.
Faith here is not necessarily religious. Trying to encourage Christmas spirit in Tommy, Matt tells him he knows Santa’s bringing him some “sweet Kobe kicks.” “You’re pretty sure of yourself,” says his dad. “I’m pretty sure of Santa,” Matt corrects him. In the almost-winking look, any viewer can tell that Tommy knows these gifts come from his parents, and so his faith extends from Santa to them. When Mike finally finds enough faith to believe in Matt’s recovery, he tells his wife he prayed: “I don’t know to who, or what. I didn’t plan to or choose to, but it came from somewhere deep inside, and right after, we found a heart.” The point is not who Matt prayed to – God, Santa, even Ann – it’s that he has faith in a big powerful something else that can intervene in their dire situation.
Faith will save them from recession. Faith will make Santa Claus real. Faith will even bring Matt a heart. That word “faith” is invoked so often, and in such differing and vague circumstances, that it loses all meaning. But these meaningless phrases – “luminary”, “faith” – are repeated so often that their alienness begins to reduce, becoming the film’s very own heart. The audience begins to depend on them, too. Drilled into us that the meaning of such words doesn’t matter, the viewer will also stop asking questions about the Luminary Event, we have faith in it despite having no definition.
Finally, an answer to the call. In Detroit, a man named Jimmy is gunned down by a gang to whom he owes money. His mother is left childless and his pregnant girlfriend Nicky is left to fend for herself. With Jimmy on life support, his tortured mother finally makes the decision to pull the plug and donate his organs. She has, unknowingly, provided the titular Christmas Heart. Back at Matt’s bedside, Ann and Mike receive the good news. “I just realised tomorrow’s Christmas,” points out the helpful doctor, “I’d say this is a pretty fine gift.”
But if Yates is to rinse all the tears he can from us, things just can’t be that simple. In comes a snowstorm downing all the air ambulances in the area. Disaster! Unless… a jingle of bells, a cheerful “Ho ho ho”, the sound of hooves on the rooftop: Santa appears! Not with a sleigh or a sack full of presents, but a pilot’s licence, his own plane, and unfaltering Christmas cheer. The Christmas transplant team, led by a pilot dressed as Santa who works at this time every year – “It’s kinda my payback. I had a lot of luck in my life!” – commandeer a tiny plane and brave the storm.
And so here comes Santa Clause, circling in the sky but finding no way to land and deliver to Matt his Christmas Heart amidst the oncoming snowstorm. Only a very special event can save the situation, and all thanks to the faith of two previously faithless people: when old Bob the scrooge suggests cancelling the Luminary Event, the camera spans the crowd to show – inexplicably – little Tommy, listening patiently while the neighbourhood discusses his beloved brother’s death. Tommy defies Bob and stands up for the Luminary Event, exclaiming that Matt loves the lights and would be sad if they didn’t light them. Inspired by Tommy’s determined spirit, Bob overcomes his scrooge ways and the two run from candle to candle, lighting what was once an ordinary street but is now a beautiful bright landing strip for Santa’s plane.
If you weren’t crying yet, Tommy’s gobsmacked little face spotting “Santa” climbing from the plane will surely put you over the edge. “Anybody order a heart?” Yells Santa as he storms in on Matt’s traumatised parents.
Then we are back in Detroit where Jimmy’s mother and Nicky are united. The audience can forgive Jimmy’s mother for not thinking to tell Nicky her boyfriend was dead because our hearts are full at the sight of these two women’s united faith as they dote over the new baby, Grace.
In an exultant scene where everyone, neighbours, surgeons, pilots, parents, Luminary Committee, take turns giving each other credit for the success of the operation, Bob is overcome by his restoration of faith. Tommy asks him to say what’s in his heart, and so he lifts Tommy in the air and cries out “JOY TO THE WORLD!” Without committing to any overall concept of what faith could be, this film presents faith as an unknowable, vague, but crucial force: the only thing these characters ultimately believe in is faith itself.
No longer are we alienated by that abstract yet oddly specific term “luminary” (not candle, not light) because we understand that the only way for Matt to get his heart is if we all have an abstract faith in the abstract Luminary Event. If the townspeople and the audience start asking questions, everything could fall apart. But luckily, thanks to the christmassy cringey stupor of Hallmark, definitions and meanings and bizarre plotlines no longer matter. Even the coldest of hearts cannot help but be warmed over.
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