NEW YORK — What does it take to be a leading man in a Hallmark Christmas movie?

A few traits come in handy: A thick head of hair. A chiseled jawline. An ability to look devastatingly handsome in flannel. A level of charisma so undeniable it can turn a fictional small-town pie-making contest into a tinderbox of sexual tension.

But more than anything, an aspiring Hallmark hunk must be willing to share their emotions and occasionally shed a tear. Or so I was told recently, as I sat down with the would-be heartthrobs of "Finding Mr. Christmas," a reality series in which 10 men compete for a leading role in one of Hallmark's wholesome holiday movies (roughly four dozen of which will air on the cable network through December).

"Not only do you have to be a great actor and look amazing on camera, but everything that you do off-camera also really matters. You need to lead with kindness and heart and generosity," says Ben Roy, who created the series with his friend, Hallmark star Jonathan Bennett.

Like a tinsel-draped cross between "The Bachelor" and "RuPaul's Drag Race," the series, which premiered last week on Hallmark+, follows the aspiring hunks as they face off in challenges designed to test both their star power and holiday cheer. They gift wrap oddly shaped presents. They chop down Christmas trees. They pose for shirtless photos with adorable puppies. They act out romantic meet-cutes and, yes, even attempt to cry on cue. Along the way, they get feedback from a variety of Hallmark stars, including Bennett, who also serves as host, and judge Melissa Peterman. For all its wholesome entertainment value, "Finding Mr. Christmas" is asking a question that looms large in 2024: What does it mean to be a man?

"This was a social experiment for us," says Bennett, who has (so far) appeared in 10 Hallmark movies, including "The Holiday Sitter," the first holiday romance at the network to focus on a gay couple. (He has jokingly referred to himself as "the gay king of Christmas.") "The show isn't just about the competition. It's about what happens between the competitions — that brotherhood, where you're seeing grown, beautiful-looking men being vulnerable with each other, and saying to the audience, 'Hey, I'm a dude who's awesome, and I have the courage to be vulnerable and share things that I'm scared about with other men."

Bennett, Roy and five of the Mr. Christmas hopefuls gathered at Rolf's German Restaurant in Manhattan, a kitschy, Christmas-themed establishment that feels like a cave decorated by Mrs. Claus, with a whirl of twinkle lights, gleaming metallic ornaments and faux-evergreen branches dripping from the ceiling.

The earnestness is almost as overwhelming as the ambiance. During our 90-minute chat about "Finding Mr. Christmas," the words "vulnerable" and "vulnerability" are uttered 29 times. At least three of the would-be heartthrobs tear up while discussing the show's impact on their lives. At times, it felt like I was an interloper at a men's support group. But they are so authentically likable, so genuinely charming, that my cynical heart melts faster than the polar ice caps in a year of record temperatures. By the end of our conversation — during which I may be the only person to touch the potato pancakes being passed around the table — I'm ready to make like a Hallmark heroine, leave the big city behind and take over a struggling Christmas tree farm somewhere in Vermont.

The idea for "Finding Mr. Christmas" originated with Roy, a producer who also happens to be a self-described Christmas nerd, Hallmark fan and reality-TV obsessive. He brought the premise to Bennett, who was on board almost instantaneously. "He goes, 'Stop. I know exactly what this is. I'm obsessed. Here's 1,000 ideas,'" Roy recalls.

The show cleverly takes all the stock elements of a Hallmark holiday movie and translates them into challenges that test the contestants' leading-man appeal. In the premiere, they are asked to customize an ugly Christmas sweater in a way that "tells of the story of you," (One competitor decorates his sweater with a felt dog to represent the beloved pet he recently lost — not to death, but divorce.) Another challenge functions as a screen test in which the contestants play men competing for the attention of a cute instructor at a wreath-making class. (The instructor is played by Hallmark regular Erin Cahill.)

The goal was identifying the moments that viewers expect from Hallmark's pleasingly formulaic programming — the apology, the kiss under the mistletoe — and finding a way to "gamify" them, Bennett says. It was not hard to identify the key tropes. "When you've been in 10 [Hallmark movies,] you're like, 'On page 13, I'm gonna ask her this. Let me skip to page 65. I bet you it's an apology. Oh, look — it's an apology!" he continues, flipping through an imaginary script. "They all follow the formula, because we found that our audience actually wants the tropes. It's comfortable viewing for them."

The cast is drawn from all walks of life: there are experienced actors, models-turned-actors, a fireman and an aerospace engineer. Their reasons for signing up also vary.

For Daxton Bloomquist, 36, "Finding Mr. Christmas" represented an exciting opportunity to redefine what it means to be a romantic leading man. He is gay, but he has tried not to limit himself to LGBTQ+ roles. "I can make a girl fall in love with me and make a boy fall in love with me. I mean, nine boys fell in love with me on this show," he says, prompting laughter from the co-stars around the table. "As corny as it sounds, this is what that show did for me, was give me confidence to be myself."

"It was a scary thing for me to put my gay self out there. I tried so hard as an actor to not [do that. I grew up in Kansas," and had to be able to pass as straight, says Bloomquist, who starred in "The Book of Mormon" on Broadway. But with "Finding Mr. Christmas," "I was like, 'I'm done hiding who I am,'" he says, his voice breaking with emotion. Parker Gregory, a dark-haired former model to his left, puts a sympathetic hand on Bloomquist's back.

"I think one of the best things that this show is going to teach people, especially the men who are not used to watching Hallmark, is you can be rough and tough, but you need to learn when to lean on your brothers," says Gregory who, at 39, is the elder statesman of the group.

Initial casting notices for the show said nothing about Hallmark, instead calling for people who loved Christmas movies and might want to star in one. The contestants eventually learned the show was being made by Hallmark, which was a selling point for many.

Jonathan Wells, a 27-year-old former All-American track and field athlete with mesmerizing dimples, says he has been approached about starring in other reality shows, which he declines to name, but they never aligned with his personal values: "Care, heart, bringing meaning into people's lives," he says.

The Hallmark imprint also provided reassurance that the manipulations typical on most reality TV would be minimal. ''Hallmark wasn't going to do a dirty and edit you a certain way," Bloomquist says.

For Elijah Malcomb, 31, the initial appeal was practical: The actor had just come off the touring production of "Hamilton" after five years when the dual strikes shut down the industry last summer. Getting a foot in the door at Hallmark, with its steady stream of programming, can be life-changing for a working actor. Malcomb was excited to get back to film and TV, and to hone his craft with the Hallmark stars who show up in each episode. "When else do you get an opportunity to basically have a boot camp for acting on an actual TV set?" he says.

Wells found that a crucial part of the competition was figuring out the story you tell about who you are. "Everyone knew that it was a time to be open, to connect with the audience and give a part of yourself," he says. For Wells, that meant talking about being a caregiver for his father, who died of brain cancer. "The hardest part of the show was continuously reminding myself, 'Hey, you gotta talk about the painful experiences.'"

Malcomb nods his head in agreement. "The conversation is starting to shift, where more and more men are talking about their emotions and leaning into the uncomfortable conversations that historically have been frowned upon and looked at as weak," he says. "There's a realization that it's not a weakness, it's a superpower, and emotional intelligence is sexy."

It was essential that the hunks-in-training let their personalities shine, says Bennett: "Hallmark viewers tune in not for the characters that they're playing, but for the stars that they are. Tyler Hynes does his thing. Paul Campbell does his thing. They each have a thing that makes them them."

For Blake Kelley, a 36-year-old stone salesman, "Finding Mr. Christmas" conveyed a message that contradicted what he was taught growing up in Texas, where "football was life," he says. "Ever since I was 4 or 5 years old and my dad threw me in a pair of [football] shoulder pads, one thing they always preached is, in a locker room full of 100 guys, 'Don't show weakness.' That's one thing I really learned how to do [on the show]. Some of the things that I talk about with these guys I wouldn't talk about with anybody."

"My definition of what masculinity can be is what these guys did," Bennett says. "They went into a house to complete strangers they've never met before, and shared their lives on national television. Tell me that's not the most manly thing you can do, because 99% of the people watching at home wouldn't have the courage to do it, but they did."

The show was filmed over a few weeks in April, at a festively decorated home in Utah. Whoever is ultimately crowned Mr. Christmas has, by now, already wrapped production on their Hallmark movie, which is scheduled to air a few days after the series finale.

The idea, Bennett says, is to generate a "Kelly Clarkson effect" over the course of the season. "You watch them grow and come out stronger and hopefully fall in love with them along the journey. Then the audience gets the instant gratification of watching his movie."

Bennett hopes there will be future seasons of "Finding Mr. Christmas," and envisions himself as Hallmark's answer to RuPaul, helping to nurture a new, diverse generation of talent through the show. The hardest part of the series was the moment, in each episode, where a contestant was eliminated and he had to deliver the [brilliant] sendoff: "It's time to take your stocking down. You're going home for the holidays."

"I would look them in the eye, and this would happen every time," Bennett says, pointing to the tears pooling in his eyes. "Because I know them. I've been there. I know how badly you want it, and how much it means to get to live your dream and be in the movies, because I'm doing it right now."

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