You know the story. Small-town girl achieves high-powered career success in the big city but can’t find true happiness until she comes back home. No one likes her suit-wearing, city-slicker boyfriend (he wore dress shoes to walk in the woods and is scared of worms!), everyone likes the mysterious (and totally dreamy) dude in the flannel shirt just waiting for her to realize he’s the one, and the town itself is so darn cute, it’s a major character.
Canadian import Sullivan’s Crossing (three seasons are now on Netflix, and season four is in the works) follows this comfortable, familiar formula and is even a bit addictive—will Lola ever find a boyfriend? Will Edna stop harping on Frank? Can Rob rebuild his diner?
It’s filmed in stunningly beautiful Halifax, Nova Scotia, where sun sparkles on the blue water of the harbor, pretty little houses line leafy streets, and rocky shores frame lighthouses and fishing boats.
Cranky Sully Sullivan (Scott Patterson of Gilmore Girls) runs a homey campground, Sullivan’s Crossing, that’s been in his family for years. He’s in a bad mood because two decades ago, his ex-wife took his daughter, Maggie (Morgan Kohan), off to Boston and neither of them figured out how telephones work, so they haven’t talked since.
Maggie became a neurosurgeon, about which we must suspend disbelief. Neurosurgeons go to college for four years, spend another four in medical school, and take a seven-year residency—and that’s before they even enter practice. Kohan is a youthful looking 31, so the math doesn’t quite add up.
She also has the bedside manner of someone who has never watched a hospital drama. The writers don’t seem to have, either: Why is a neurosurgeon down in the ER triaging patients for broken bones?
Maggie attracts the attention of Cal, the very handsome Chad Michael Murray of One Tree Hill, Gilmore Girls, and Dawson’s Creek, who provides Millennial nostalgia and some of the finest acting moments in the series. The other moments belong to Patterson, who delivers a nuanced and heartfelt depiction of an alcoholic struggling to make amends and a father rebuilding a fractious relationship with his daughter.
Among the best bits—and most moving scenes—are when Edna and Frank Cranebear (Andrea Menard, who is Métis, and Thomas Dale Jackson, of the Cree One Arrow First Nation) share Indigenous practices and traditions with each other and the locals. Jackson is a powerful, wise presence in any scene, and Menard is the warm-hearted town auntie to everyone. Theirs is an affectionate relationship—a love affair between elders who still kiss in the kitchen.
The series consciously honors the land on which the fictional small town of Timberlake is built, with storylines about Frank, Edna, and their family. In a speech to the community, Sully acknowledges that his campground sits on the land of the Mi’kmaq.
Since most of the action is on a campground, you might expect more fishing (only twice in three seasons) and some realistic outdoorsy action. This might help us understand the pull of the place to the locals and to Maggie. Yet there’s not much of that, though the local volunteer search-and-rescue brigade does drill on the beach and rescue hapless bikers and climbers.
An exceptionally high percentage of scenes end when someone with a big problem stomps off to go for a walk, a run, or out to get air. This is probably meant to create drama and tension, but after a while, it seems like the town is filled with passive-aggressive conflict-avoidants, which is less than charming. Use your words, people.
Like many similar series, Sullivan’s Crossing draws sharp demarcations between friendly, caring, small-town folk and clueless urban visitors who lack humanity, don’t know how to fish, and like to drink and shoot in the woods (as if that isn’t a popular activity among local teens in rural communities). The enduring appeal of this “us versus them” trope is troubling. The narrative that small towns are completely good and big cities are utterly bad is tired and simplistic and feels out of sync with the show’s other levels of inclusiveness.
Maggie and Cal underline this message. She’s a neurosurgeon who gives up her career to help campers rent canoes and sign out cabins. Cal was a lawyer but gave up his practice to hang out at the campground and volunteer. It’s a message familiar to Hallmark romance viewers—educating yourself and having a career, especially for a woman, is bad.
Yet what is good is the community of characters drawn together by the beauty of Sullivan’s Crossing and the surrounding towns. When Roy develops cognitive issues, the whole town takes shifts making sure he’s OK. When Sully finds himself in dire financial straits, people pitch in.
We like it when people help one another, and community is something for which we all long. Sometimes, the closest we can come to living in a place where neighbors check in on one another, personal histories are common knowledge, and struggles are shouldered together is to watch one on television.
This article also appears in the December 2025 issue of U.S. Catholic (Vol. 90, No. 12, pages 36-37). Click here to subscribe to the magazine.
Image: Jessie Redmond/Fremantle
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