Sometimes self-care is a matter of settling into your couch and putting on an old favorite.
The Muppets Take Manhattan
"Together again. Gee, it’s good to be together again."
Those are the first words said — or rather, sung — in The Muppets Take Manhattan, and they capture the heartwarming spirit of inclusion that permeates the best Muppet film ever made. As Kermit, Miss Piggy, and their deeply diverse cavalcade of friends attempt to put on a Broadway musical, the film examines the hardships endured by those down on their luck, the power of positive thinking, and the ties that bind us together.
By the time the movie reaches its emotional conclusion and Kermit declares their Broadway musical needs "more frogs and dogs and bears and chickens," you'll have spent 90 minutes watching a joyous celebration of love, unity, and the fact that we're always stronger together. —Jarett Wieselman
TriStar Pictures
Keeping Up With the Kardashians
I've been rewatching all of Keeping Up With the Kardashians for the past few months, in order from the beginning. That means the spinoffs too, all of which are on Hulu except for the two seasons of Khloe & Lamar, which I had to buy on Amazon. (Maybe Hulu was like, No, this one is too depressing in retrospect, we will spare you all.)
It's not a walk in a sunny park, these shows with this family, especially watching all at once now. There are divorces and deaths and substance abuse spirals and mental unravelings: What happens to Rob Kardashian is slow and confusing, and still not over in 2016; Lamar Odom's downfall, handled tastefully throughout, is terribly sad and also obscured by dimmed privacy concerns. Only Scott Disick, Kourtney Kardashian's erstwhile partner and the father of her children, is transparent in his messiness. And there is the strange experience of watching Caitlyn Jenner evolve into whom she was always meant to be, with a journey that included anti-gay panic when Kris hired a gay man in Season 2 to give Caitlyn a clothes makeover, as well as all of the struggles over growing her hair out, which she has since said was a painful symbol of her hidden desires.
But there is a compelling reason to watch this show, especially at the dawn of the age of Trump. I would never compare Donald Trump to the Kardashians — because I like them. Yet there is a lesson to learn about reality television fame and its currency in our culture now that we have a president who has never held office or served the public good, and is known only through the machinations of the publicity cycle. The way CNN showed Trump's unfiltered, un-fact-checked speeches before they finally realized he wasn't a joke is a luxury the Kardashians are never afforded. Being a womanly brand led by a matriarch, they have been questioned and bullied at every turn; even after Kim Kardashian was robbed at gunpoint, which has yet to play out on the show, the media's primary stance was to mock her and doubt the story. (Morning Joe on MSNBC, which gave Trump free publicity for months, was openly laughing/sneering after the robbery — ugliness that characterizes the reaction to the Kardashians.)
We develop affiliations with reality stars. The first episode of Keeping Up With the Kardashians was in fall 2007, when George W. Bush was still president. It's shocking that today that seems like an innocent, more gentle time. But I'm glad to have spent these many hours with a supportive family that chooses to take on politics as a central part of its identity. Raising awareness about the Armenian genocide, racism and Black Lives Matter, and the rise of trans civil rights has played out on the show and in the sisters' ancillary outlets on social media. If the lesson learned from this election is that celebrity is toxic and that more people hate women and people of color than we ever could have imagined, the Kardashians offer an antidote to the notion that reality television is pestilential. It can also be instructional, and a fascinating view of these changing, troubling times. —Kate Aurthur
E! Entertainment Television
Spirited Away
I love everything about Spirited Away. I love the spongy, incomparable dream logic of the story, which begins with 10-year-old Chihiro’s parents transforming into pigs after eating too much nonhuman food, then introduces us to an otherworld of magical bathhouses and giant babies and vacationing river spirits scheduling a spa day to rinse away pollution. I love the beauty of it, the bright colors and haunting character designs that swirl cuteness with eeriness. I love the totally weird and yet irresistibly romantic connection between Chihiro and the helpful dragon Haku.
Most of all, though, I love that Chihiro, whose name gets taken away from her and replaced with "Sen" when she settles into a new life as a spirit realm employee, isn't some chosen one and doesn't become the instant center of the mythical world into which she's stumbled. The spirit world in Spirited Away wasn't created or waiting for her. She's a visitor there, one who is, at first, bewildered and alarmed by the strangeness of everything she's seeing, but remains open to learning about it. She doesn't have special powers, just tenacity and bravery, and it is with those qualities that she saves her mom, her dad, and the day.
Rather than fight the monsters she encounters, Sen bargains with, chastises, befriends, or changes them. Even the worker-gobbling being named No-Face, at first the film's most frightening creation, ends up turning into a lovable, apologetic companion. After months of political rhetoric stoking fears of otherness, it's beyond soothing to settle into a movie that's all about the value of trying to understand people — or spirits — who may not be exactly like you. —Alison Willmore
Gkids
MasterChef Junior
First, there is nothing more comforting to me than food during times of distress. And second, there is nothing more inspiring than watching children as young as 8 display the kind of genuine good sportsmanship and sincere kindness I wish more adults would exhibit. They help each other when a competitor's dough fails to rise as the clock winds down, they cheer for each other in team relay challenges, and they comfort each other when they're eliminated and forced to hang up their aprons. Someday, kids like the ones on MasterChef Junior, from a wide range of states and backgrounds, will feed and rule the world…and that gives me hope. —Jaimie Etkin
Greg Gayne / Fox