The Condition of Being Single at the Holidays... (Home for Christmas/Hjem til Jul REVIEW)

If there’s one thing every unattached person, everywhere, dreads around the holidays, it’s being grilled by one’s family (friends, coworkers, nosy gas-meter readers, etc.) about Why Aren’t You in a Relationship… and schooled in What You Need to Do to Get in One (because everyone who's in a relationship thinks they're experts on that, of course). 

[Oh, and if you, dear reader, are one of those happily—or even not-so-happily—married, partnered, or otherwise-coupled folks, engaged in the relentless hounding of all the singletons you know, listen up: No matter if still-single, newly-single, or single-by-choice, we're well aware of the fact that we’re alone; many of us would really like to find The One; and all the pressure you’re putting on us? Not. Helping.]

At least now, though, all those single-(and-not-lovin’-it) people have two brilliant seasons of Home for Christmas (or Hjem Til Jul, in its native Norwegian), now streaming on Netflix, to take away some of the sting… and to make anyone who’s been there, at some point (erm, feeling awkwardly-single around the holidays, not Norway, although that's def on my bucket list), feel good. 

The premise of Season One is easily-relatable: Johanne, a young(ish, at 30) woman has a lot going for her… a steady job, parents and siblings she gets along (well enough) with, a small network of good friends, and a nice flat to live in. The only thing that’s missing—especially around the holidays, and most-especially, at the big family Jul dinner? A boyfriend.

So, encouraged by her delightfully-eccentric (and genuinely good-hearted) roomie, Jørgunn, Johanne sets out to find herself that missing piece (a man) by Christmas (in 24 days). 

Does she succeed? C’mon, you know I’m not about to tell. But, I will say that the end of the first season ends on a lovely cliffhanger… which then leads directly into the beginning of the equally-enchanting Season Two, when Johanne has a whole new set of problems to deal with (and no, they’re probably not exactly what you might be thinking, so stop feeling like you’ve figured it all out, already).

As you would both expect and sorta hope (Home for Christmas is a show, after all), much awkwardness, some disappointments, and a good deal of hilarity run through all twelve episodes (each season is six eps in length), without ever—hallelujah!—crossing over into the dreaded realms of disbelief, silliness, or triteness. Johanne’s situation (predicament?) always rings completely true; I can either identify with whatever’s happening, or I’ve been in a nearly-identical spot. 

It’s also cool, to me, that this oh-so-relatable series comes from somewhere distinctly not the U.S. (since—let’s be honest—something like ninety-nine percent of holiday rom-coms are set here, which is all sorts of been there, done that). The scenery is gorgeous (I mean, Norway knows snow!), the casting is spot-on, and the feel of everything is just a bit more… real. 

Home for Christmas isn’t the—and apologies, here, to anyone who lurves the genre above all else—treacly-sweet variety of rom-com fare that permeates the various networks and platforms around the holidays. Rather, it’s a smart, clever, honest, and funny look at life, and how messy it can be… especially when it comes to what the heart needs, and what the heart wants (whether or not it can ever get it). 

This easily-bingeable series is far and away my pick for holiday rom-com viewing. It is, to me… perfect, and this recommendation is my holiday gift to you. 

~GlamKitty

[Musical Note: I’m the sort of viewer who immediately goes and searches out soundtrack deets if I hear a snippet of something that grabs me, and in the second season, the song that stole my breath (and made me go scour the ‘net to find it), is Norwegian singer Dagny Norvoll Sandvik’s effervescent track, “Somebody”. (I could probably write a whole piece on just that song, srsly.) Give it a listen! :)]