“I can’t watch a show about a drug cartel anymore,” admits Marcus, a 34-year-old software engineer. “My real life has inflation and layoffs. I don’t need to see a fictional character get betrayed. I need to see a Scottish baker cry because his Baked Alaska melted. That is a problem I can understand. And it gets solved in 22 minutes.”
Sometime between the third global lockdown and the endless scroll of the “For You” page, the cultural pendulum snapped back with a vengeance. The hottest genre of 2024 isn’t a thriller or a noir. It is the . ExxxtraSmall.22.07.21.Haley.Spades.All.The.Rave...
This is why “retro” media is having a renaissance. Gen Z has discovered the analog warmth of Gilmore Girls and Frasier . Physical media is back: vinyl sales have outpaced CDs for two years running, and vintage CRT televisions are being sold on eBay to play Super Mario 64 on original hardware. The grain, the scanlines, the lack of 4K clarity—it feels honest . “I can’t watch a show about a drug
For nearly two decades, the golden age of television was defined by a specific kind of anxiety. We worshipped the moral rot of Walter White, the nihilistic chess games of Succession , and the soul-crushing dread of Chernobyl . The mantra was simple: darker, smarter, harder. If it didn’t make you feel like you needed a shower afterward, was it even art? I need to see a Scottish baker cry
Legendary Entertainment recently greenlit a slate of “gentle fantasy” projects, explicitly citing the success of Hilda and Bee and PuppyCat . These are stories where the protagonist’s main goal is to return a lost library book or bake a perfect loaf of sourdough. The villain, if there is one, is usually just a misunderstanding.
But coziness isn’t just about aesthetics. It’s about narrative stakes. For a generation raised on the cliffhanger (thanks, Lost ) and the shocking character death (thanks, Game of Thrones ), there is radical rebellion in a show where the worst thing that can happen is a soggy bottom.
This doesn’t mean the end of edgy content. The Last of Us and The Bear (which, despite its stress, is technically a comedy) prove that high-tension art still has a place. But the center of gravity has shifted.