Let's be a Lifetime Movie!

I'm the unthreateningly unattractive best friend, providing exposition and being the first to cast a shadow of a doubt.

"Gosh, Laurie, I don't know.... there's just something about him I don't trust!"

I may be dead within 90 minutes.

Im Leann Rimes dressing room on the Northern Lights set. Ive seen Eddie Cibrian's nude body. Jealous bitches?

I'm the rain outside the window as the protagonist's mother drinks a cup of tea in a big chunky cardigan and expresses concern about her daughter's jealous new boyfriend to the next-door neighbor.

I'm the gratuitous shirtless scene of the "Canadian-hot" male love interest, who has a total of 11 lines.

I am the very definition of an Average White Guy.

I'm the generic and new-ish cul de sac, sans old trees or proper landscaping, in a California or other West Coast locale. The houses are all "puffy", and striving to be upper-middle class. I have many very expensive new soulless automobiles lining my street, and parked in every drive. (though many who live within my confines lack the visible support to afford them).

An aerial view of me begins many a Lifetime production. To the viewers, I appear quite glamourous and perfect. I am the idyllic stereotype of the fictitious "American Dream". In truth, I'm actually a Canadian outpost, successfully masquerading as an American enclave. The viewers never seem to tire of me, though some more astute viewers find my presentation somewhat formulaic.

I'm a grown ass man named Tilky who stars in a shit ton of this crap.

I'm Danger.

Ask your mom if we can sleep together.

I'm the plaintive piano music.

Im the bizarro world where Tori Spelling can get recruited as a top.dollar call girl.

Muriel's Divorce.

I'm the glass closeted, handsome actor who is constantly cast in these things as the romantic lead who the lead female character finally deigns to fall in love with after some act proving my decency and heroism. The fat fraus who watch this crap inexplicably think they have a chance to marry me in real life. I prefer being with my dogs and cash my check.

I'm male, I'm straight, I'm hot. I'm a good guy. I've got an interesting, money-making job.

And yet, in my small town, I'm conveniently available for the female lead character because the local, would-be fraus, desperate to marry, have all turned their nose up at me.

I'm the dog walker she met online.

In a Lifetime movie, the hot good guy is more likely a secret serial killer with a string of dead wives.

I'm the coffee shop on the corner.

I'm the climactic "flashback" scene, shot poorly by a second unit on another location. I will likely feature at least one really crappy wig and terrible "suspense" music.

We're Vancouver, and we're grateful for your business!

I 'm Viveca Fox, current star of a slew of these, whose looks have definitely gone downhill since I played a stripper in "Independence Day"

I'm the protagonist's hometown. She's returned to me 15 years after leaving and building a successful career. Maybe there's an available working-class (and HOT) guy who can convince her to stay here for good.

I'm a cute kid. I belong to either the protagonist or her love interest. I'm manipulating events to bring them together so that I can have a nuclear family. My other parent is dead.

I'm the visit to the fraternity party gone wrong

This thread is way more Hallmark than Lifetime.

I’m fibromyalgia, ready to strike down Markie Post, Meredith Baxter, or Lindsay Wagner.

I’m the “ding” of the bell on the door of the local coffee/sweet shop. The proprietress immediately recognizes the heroine as the hometown sweetheart, coming back for her favorite cherry soda and maybe a second chance at love.

I'm Canada. No matter where the movie takes place, it will be filmed in me.

I'm Lindsay Hartley. I used to be a soap star. Now, I'm pretty much the queen of these movies.

I'm Andrew Walker. I play the villain. This is Lifetime. Men are bad.

I'm the thick turtle neck sweater that the hunk wears when he meets the chick that moved from the city into her grandpa's house.

I'm the slew of network movies-of-the-week that later became Lifetime staples:

The Burning Bed

For the Love of Nancy

A Killer Among Friends

A Friend to Die For

I am the beatific look at dead grandma's picture on the wall, you know, the one who left me with the bakery/craft store/card shop that is about to be taken over by a conglomerate headed by a handsome (gay) actor that I absolutely hate until the last thirty minutes.

r22, you're right

My post at r12 is more Hallmark or Lifetime Christmas movie.

I am the inserted hurdle that the woman has to overcome to move forward and eventually marry the hot piece. While everyone watching the movie can clearly see the path to wet panties, the actress, Karen, has her head up her ass. Meh, without this trope, it would be a boring ass movie.

R22 You're right. Lifetime is more murder and Hallmark is more romance.

I'm the age 17. I'm in the title of many Lifetime movies: Stalked at Seventeen, Dead at Seventeen, Terrified at Seventeen, Missing at Seventeen, Accused at Seventeen, etc. I am the most dangerous age for a girl in a Lifetime movie.

Im the bad wig worn by the C-list actress who is the star of the movie. Im supposed to make her look different and suggest to viewers that the actress is very brave for making herself look ugly for the role.

I'm Christine Conradt. I've written over 60 Lifetime movies. I have a lot more money than you queens!

Jealous, bitches!

I'm danger.

Lifetime folks, not Hallmark. You MUST include a threat of death 💀 obvious to all but our heroine.

I'm the eating disorder.

I’m the perky new assistant hired to assist in our heroine’s fledgling design business. I quickly become indispensable. But soon my boss’s goldfish is dead and her husband is taking my late night phone calls. When I brazenly break into their house in the middle of the night to sabotage her step machine, I find myself dead, victim of the business end of an electric carving knife.

Cut to your heroine, who dumps the husband and leaves the idyllic hometown to the notes of a triumphant woman anthem. Note the new goldfish, in her bowl, happily settled in the passenger seat.

Credits roll.

I am a Hallmark movie.

I follow a very different trajectory than a Lifetime movie.

I'm the concerned single mom who worries about her teenage daughter's new boyfriend, and my concern is starting to distract me from my job as the high-powered CEO of a nebulous tech-related company.

My sassy black female assistant has just come into my glass-walled office as my minions scurry around busily behind me to let me know I'm late for that very important meeting which will determine the continued success or failure of my company.

I pull it together long enough to get through the meeting, but my brow remains furrowed as I just can't seem to shake the feeling that this guy is up to no good.

Later, I'll call my black cop girlfriend and ask her to run a check on him.

I'm the Duchess of Sussex, formerly Meghan Markle. I thought marriage to a prince would catapult me to the A list, but no dice. The producers saw my reel, which includes my breathtaking performance in "The War at Home" with Michael Rapaport (check it out on youtube) and this is the only offer for a production deal I got. I'll produce, of course, and maybe write. I can't decide whether I want to be a beautiful career woman who suddenly has a foster child after her best friend dies in a car accident or a beautiful big city detective on the trail of a mass murderer who suddenly realizes the killer has a cat-and-mouse game planned for her.

You'll watch these on a Saturday afternoon when you're hung over and are feasting on a Papa John's pizza and a six-pack of Diet Coke, and afterwards you'll hate your life.

r42 understands the archetype

I'm the best friend across the street. Either I'm going to kill my neighbor so I can have her life and husband, or I'm easy cannon fodder for the neighbor's new bf with the sketchy past.

I'm the affair.

I'm the sunlight or moonlight reflected through the window shutter slats and onto the robin's egg blue walls that consistently serve as a background in 80% of the interior scenes.

I'm the 1990s.

I'm the person that is enjoying this thread, but has never watched a Lifetime or Hallmark movie. Can someone explain the difference to me?

r49

Every Lifetime movie: a woman is in danger (usually this danger is a man, sometimes a woman) and has to overcome that danger. Usually overcomes it with help of a female friend. Relatively happy ending as she begins to rebuild her life.

Every Hallmark movie: independent, big city professional woman returns to her quaint small town. Meets widower with child. They fight, they fall in love, she gives up her career, and they make plans to marry. Happy ending is absolute.

^^^ sometimes the heroine is the widow with child

Lifetime="Women in Jeopardy"

Hallmark=Adapted from a novel with Fabio on the cover

Having Fabio on the cover would imply it’s steamy, and Hallmark movies never are. They’re always frauey, Christmassy, flyovery, and there is a message of forgiveness and second chances. It’s pure love, the kind Jesus would approve of.

I'm the woman hiding among the foliage POV shot; I have a strained face, bad makeup and worse haircut.

I'm either the jealous childhood friend who tries to kill our heroine or her new love's dead wife's sister who wants to warn her. I don't leave the foliage until the last 15 minutes, although I am referenced many times, with more backstory than the rest of the characters.

Thanks r50!

You're very welcome r55

[quote] In a Lifetime movie, the hot good guy is more likely a secret serial killer with a string of dead wives.

You stay away from Annie Potts, Treat Williams!!

I'm the McMansion the owner can't afford working part time at the coffee shop and moonlighting as a true crime/romance writer

I'm the frantic 911 call.

I;m the beginning of the next Lifetime movie that rolls in just as you are digesting the ending of the last one.