Hallmark’s The Finnish Line is a thoroughly unexpected and surprisingly hilarious gem, with familiar heartfelt beats that make the story glisten. Add Kim Matula to the list of actresses who could always manage to make me cry because this much is true in her role as Anya.
As a film that dives into family legacies and grief while it digs into second chances, we get some lovely opportunities to watch characters heal. It then becomes a story about examining this idea that losses don’t have to mean the end of everything, and despite how people look at said losses, there’s something bigger within the pain that comes from the fear of the unknown.
Loss is hard to talk about. It’s hard to write about. Grief isn’t just a plot device to throw into a story to make it more profound, but it’s about exploring the pain that connects us. With this notion, it’s apparent that the narrative is fully aware of how important this race is for Anya’s character growth and healing. Things don’t change right after the race, but the film gives her a safe space to explore her emotions and sit with the losses that have shaped her. The race isn’t about winning or about her father’s legacy; it’s about a woman honoring her parents and finding a way to feel close to them again.
As Hallmark’s The Finnish Line comes to its third act, the emotions are heightened to the point that it analyzes what it means to feel the profound weight of grief and loneliness at the same time. Sometimes, even when people have a team rooting for them, the agony of not honoring someone has a way of being so achingly loud that it’s impossible to look beyond it. Matula shows this to the viewers with a poignant downfall that continues to humanize and make Anya deeply relatable. These outcries are so natural, even while we’re wrong.
Now, as far as the romance between Anya and the reporter, Cole pans out—we’ve got another winner on our hands. The chemistry between Matula and Beau Mirchoff is excellent, and the slow but vulnerable development between the couple works to make them easy to root for. Forced proximity has a way of doing this, but what also works is the conversations they have that start because of the race and turn into something bigger.
These honest conversations lead to the character development necessary to allow for breakthroughs that feel believable. And in a relatively cliche reminder that leads to a prominent feature, Anya is reminded that theirs is a fairytale about embracing the unknown with an opposites-attract relationship—a heated, tender display that’s also unquestionably worthwhile. Let’s go dog metaphors; if this were an open-door romance novel, the readers would adore every minute of it.
Hallmark’s The Finnish Line really pushes everything over the edge in the last act, making the race exciting and nail-biting. Why was I anxiously watching this as if it were an Olympic sport? Beats me, but the end result is worth every bit of the anxiety, making the movie feel so magical despite the faux CGI northern lights display we get. A bigger budget could’ve given us something grand, but I’ll take this anyway. It’s a winner in my book. Also, one hundred points for the wolves—beauties, real or not, I love them all.
Watch The Finnish Line on the Hallmark Channel this Christmas.
First Featured Image Credit: ©Hallmark | ©2024 Hallmark Media/Photographer: Jaakko Posti