Particularly within the online stan community, the phrase “comfort _______” has taken off with fervor. Often referring to a “comfort movie,” “comfort book,” or even “comfort person,” this designated title allots special meaning to a person or piece of media that goes beyond simply liking it. When listening to your “comfort album” or watching your “comfort TV show,” one is filled with a degree of bliss difficult to find elsewhere. The viewer’s heart swells with joy. It feels as though they can finally take a deep exhale as they sink into the world they’re consuming, far away from the stressors of their present life.
Part of what has made media increasingly comforting and personal for its viewers is the level of availability and interactiveness the internet affords. Before the internet, I’m sure fans would watch their favorite movies repeatedly and listen to their favorite songs again and again. However, with the advent of streaming technology, there is an added level of access; viewers can consume literally anywhere and anytime with a smart device and an internet connection.
Further, when one is a fan of a piece of media nowadays, they don’t just get to consume the media itself, but also the world fellow fans help construct online. American writer Alvin Toffler is widely cited as the first individual to coin the term “prosumer” in The Third Wave (1980). A compound word made up of “producer” and “consumer,” he refers to prosumers as people who actively produce the services and goods they buy and consume. Due to the tools and interconnectedness of the Internet, fandom members have the capacity to participate in a world they idolize in ways they couldn’t before. Whether it’s disseminating plot theories, writing a fan fiction novel, creating handmade drawings of fictional characters, or video edits, fans can help design the architecture of pop culture. Stamp a personalized emblem on the media they enjoy.
“Prosuming” allows media to break the fourth wall, bringing it into the personal homes and heads of common people worldwide. In this way, “comfort media” somehow feels more impactful. Cozier and more active. Less of something one ingests and more of something one enacts.
In my opinion, there is no better time to engage with comfort media than during the holidays in the latter half of the calendar year. When the air starts to chill, the sun begins to set earlier, and there are fewer activities to engage with outdoors, one of the most enjoyable things one can do is watch their favorite movie or dance around to their favorite music in the glow and comfort of their abode.
And in light of the holiday months, there is so much media I personally engage with to make the upcoming holiday feel all the cozier. For example, around Halloween time, I feel drawn to watch the Twilight saga, as its mood and characters fit the spooky tone of the season. When Thanksgiving approaches, I often feel drawn to throw on one of the iconic Thanksgiving episodes of Gossip Girl (2007) to watch the families of the upper east side quarrel around a well-decorated table.
But around Christmas time, the seasonal media to absorb multiplies tremendously. One can put on holiday classics like Elf (2003) or The Santa Clause (1994-2006) series or throw on some Mariah Carey or Michael Buble to feel festive. But sometimes seasonal comfort media isn’t always what’s explicitly branded as “Christmas-themed.” For instance, an unlikely film I’ve come to associate with the holidays - and a film that has come to be one of my favorites of all time - is Little Women (2019).
Sure, the movie features several scenes during winter and Christmas time; however, the story itself doesn’t solely rely on the holiday season for its plot. Rather it’s the overall theme of the story, costumes, and characterizations that make me feel like I’ve come in from the frigid cold air into a tinsel-clad, wood-fire-warmed home.
The original story of Little Women was written by Louisa May Alcott in 1868. The story, semi-inspired by Alcott’s life details the passage of four sisters - Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy - from childhood to adulthood. All of the sisters deal with their own life challenges, largely involving untangling the complications of nineteenth-century womanhood with autonomy, financial independence, and romance. For example, Meg faces familial scrutiny for choosing to marry a poor man and selfless Beth faces the complications of illness and the burdensome feeling of being someone her family must care for into her young adulthood. Jo, most famously, continually weighs her desire to be an independent writer with her romantic yearnings, struggling with the perception that she must trade one for the other as a woman. And Amy faces the weighty pressure as the youngest daughter to marry rich to aid her impoverished family.
In addition to its warm tones and sweeping autumnal shots of the American countryside, I think coziness from this film emerges, in part, from the validation it provides viewers. While this story was written over 150 years ago, its exploration of the relational tension of autonomy and romantic connection still resonates with women viewers today. Implicit and explicit expectations of paid and unpaid care, “breadwinning” and caretaking, while ever-shifting, remain gendered. Seeing one’s own experiences mirrored in the experiences of fictional characters can bring about a comfort that mirrors a sigh of relief.
But above all, the relationships between the characters are what make this movie feel extra comforting, specifically those among the sisters. The four of them are constantly teasing one another - laughing, screaming, chasing, hugging, and crying, sometimes all in the same scene seemingly. The tight-knit nature of the sisters’ bonds is something that resonates with me personally. No matter the conflict, the four always seem to end up giggling, playing games, and snacking around a fireplace. Always able to embrace life’s highest peaks and lowest pitfalls with one another unconditionally.
There’s one scene in particular that always reminds me of my relationships with my little sisters. It isn’t even a specific scene, but rather a hazy montage of the siblings as young girls putting on a show in their living room for their family and neighbors. The sisters all have handmade costumes - Amy has pink pieces of fabric on her cheek to emulate blush, and Meg has a fake mustache - and the ceiling is adorned with paper stars. The montage occurs as a flashback during Jo’s journey home from New York to care for her dying sister Beth. The movie, thus far, has documented the sisters’ respective struggles with money, career, and relationships, but this flashback offers a moment of juvenile delight. A moment when the four sisters were fully present, unaware, and thus unafraid of what the future had in store for them. I don’t think I’ve ever watched it without crying at least a little bit.
Watching this movie fills me with undeniable joy and nostalgia and to me: that’s what Christmas is all about!
I know everyone has different perspective’s on the holiday season and the year’s end. Regardless of what you’re personal feelings are, my wish is for everyone to take this end of the year to engage with what brings them comfort - whether that’s hugging their favorite people, eating a comforting meal, or watching their comfort movie. We all deserve to close the year with unabashed coziness.
On another note, thank you all for taking the time to subscribe to and read Cafe Hysteria this year! I started this newsletter this year, nervous to share my words, thoughts, and stories online. But the encouraging response I’ve received from loved ones and strangers alike has been the most motivating: thank you, thank you, thank you! I’m dedicating the rest of 2022 to spending time with family, reading, watching, eating, and planning for this blog for the new year. I hope to see you all in 2023!
Looking forward to the season of comfort !