Mrs Miracle Takes Manhattan!
Sometimes, Christmas magic needs a little help, and that’s where Mrs Miracle comes in. Based on the Debbie Macomber novel, Call Me Mrs Miracle finds Doris Roberts returning as the titular Mrs Miracle—a mysteriously omniscient and delightfully meddlesome member of the same cinematic pantheon that gave us Poppins and McPhee. This time, her task is to save Christmas for not one, but two families while simultaneously reversing the fortunes of the struggling Finley’s Department Store in Manhattan. No wonder that this time, Mrs Miracle has little patience for the more subtle machinations of 2009’s Mrs Miracle.
The plot is pure holiday confection: young Jake Finley (Eric Johnson) is struggling to meet his boss’ seasonal expectations – a boss who also happens to be his father, a man who turned his back of Christmas after the death of his wife and now spends each festive season enjoying a tropical getaway. Enter Mrs Miracle, disguised as a seasonal temp, who takes charge of Jake’s chaotic Finley’s Toy Department and sprinkles a little much-needed festive cheer. Meanwhile, Holly (Jewel Staite), a young woman navigating life as her nephew’s guardian, finds herself unexpectedly entwined in Jake’s orbit, while dealing with a demanding and diva-esque boss of her own, fashion maven Lindy Lowe (Lauren Holly).
This Hallmark holiday offering doesn’t break the mould but instead leans right into it, wrapping you in a blanket of warm, familiar tropes: the overworked single parent, the estranged father and son, an impishly wise interfering old busybody all served up with a dash of romance, a little commercialism and even a “thank you for your service” for the sainted troops. Roberts is the real star here, embodying Mrs Miracle with a mischievous twinkle that elevates the material from serviceable to special. Her playful charm is irresistible, even when the plot feels as though it’s checking off a Christmas movie bingo card and her zero-festive-f***s given attitude to shepherding her charges to give them their mandated happy endings adds a zestiness to proceedings that could have otherwise turned out sickly sweet.
What sets Call Me Mrs Miracle apart is its unabashed hypocrisy in both critiquing and embracing the commercialisation of the holidays. There’s an undeniable quaintness to its flat-out refusal to even acknowledge the inexorable rise of the ghost of Christmas yet to come: online shopping. Now the film feels like a time capsule when holiday shopping was anchored by classic department stores filled with products and fast fashion was the purview of telesales channels. From start to finish, there’s nothing subtle about Call Me Mrs Miracle, but that’s precisely the point—this is a Christmas film designed to feel like a warm mug of cocoa on a cold December evening.
Ultimately, Call Me Mrs Miracle, which would sadly turn out to be Doris Roberts’ last time in the role (an absence Hallmark has flailed around trying to mitigate for across three subsequent movies without real success) delivers exactly what you’d expect from a Christmas sequel: a gentle, unchallenging, and overwhelmingly festive story. It’s not about redefining the genre—it’s about indulging in it wholeheartedly, and although it feels like it has too many parallel plotlines running for its own good, somehow it all works out in the end. And when Mrs Miracle beams her knowing smile and fades away as the credits roll, you might just find yourself believing in Miracles, at least the ones of the Mrs variety, all over again.
