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I’ll tell you what wasn’t on my Christmas list to Santa this year – unironically enjoying (nay, loving) a Netflix festive film. I’ve watched a lot of bad ones in this job, but My Secret Santa is undoubtedly the best of the sappy genre.
In a nutshell, it’s Mrs. Doubtfire if Robin Williams decided to be a Santa drag king instead of a sassy Scottish pensioner. Instead of a man desperately trying to win his estranged wife back, single mom Taylor (Alexandra Breckenridge) needs fast cash to send her daughter to an elite snowboarding resort.
Of course, romance is in the air too. Matthew (Ryan Eggold) recognizes former singer Taylor in a record store, and just so happens to be the new general manager at the resort – you can already guess how it’s going to end just by reading this synopsis.
My Secret Santa cements Alexandra Breckenridge as the Queen of Netflix
If you suggest I’m solely writing this review as an excuse to write a love letter to Breckenridge’s work and further my cause to try and interview her in 2026, I don’t know what you’re talking about.
She carries My Secret Santa squarely on her shoulders, and she completely pulls off what is, rationally speaking, a completely implausible story. This is the kind of tale she was born to tell, and the movie’s happy-go-lucky vibes underpinned by more authentic real-world problems suits her warm and engaging personality incredibly well.
In essence, I don’t actually care about Taylor’s character arc or her capers while wearing the baggy pants of Father Christmas – I’m just always buying what Breckenridge is selling. It’s impossible to not be entranced by her screentime, exuding natural charm in everything she does. You want to be her, you want to be best friends with her… even when she’s pretending to be an old man.
As far as Christmas movies go, this one is pretty original
The biggest compliment I can give My Secret Santa is that it feels current without trying too hard. There are no shudder-worthy TikTok jokes, no trends being jumped on, and nobody trying too hard to fit into a mould that isn’t inherently them. Yes, the ending is undoubtedly cringe, but it’s in keeping with the spirit of Christmas movies.
Tia Mowry isn’t a natural fit as a villain, and there’s no huge stakes aside from Taylor’s daughter not being able to snowboard. However, we’re here to get invested into a romantic connection, not be plunged into terror. Obviously, it’s all a bit naff (lacking in taste and style, for my non-Brits), but that comes with the territory.
I can’t believe I’m writing this, but I’m already contemplating watching My Secret Santa again (which is essentially the equivalent of pigs flying). I got so much joy, warmth and feel-good vibes from Netflix’s latest festive offering, and that’s how you know it’s a job done well.
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