What constitutes a comfort watch may vary from person to person, though many share a few key factors. They’re typically older by the very nature of them being familiar, they tend to be removed from the specifics of our current situation (and are often funny), and they usually represent the antithesis of modern media offerings in some way.
That last factor is proving to be increasingly important. While it’s easy enough to understand why series like Bob’s Burgers, Family Guy, and The Big Bang Theory pop up on these rating reports as traditional comfort watches, wanting more than what streaming typically offers explains why NCIS still draws viewers or why Suits unexpectedly captured Gen Z’s attention. Such shows are pulled from a far different era of television that we are far removed stylistically, if not chronologically. People aren’t just looking for streaming alternatives and comfort watches; they’re looking for companion shows that help fill gaps created by trends in the modern media market.
You don’t need to know much about Gunsmoke to understand how it fits into those gaps. A 1950s Western where the bad guys wear black and justice is dispensed in under a half-hour across largely self-contained adventures checks a lot of boxes. It may be older than other established comfort watches and slightly outside of the legacy genre norms, but it just seems remarkably cozy. However, if that is how you perceive Gunsmoke, then you’re missing out on one of the biggest reasons why the show remains so popular.
Gunsmoke Is Still a Great Show
While Gunsmoke is sometimes best remembered for remarkably remaining on the air for 20 years, those who know the show best often cite it as one of the most influential Westerns in any medium. Not all of the show’s 635 episodes were winners, but the series often exhibited remarkable creative consistency over that run. It wasn’t just what millions of homes tuned into because it was one of the only things on TV; it was a surprisingly complex series filled with characters navigating ambiguous scenarios with help from their often challenged moral compasses.
Yes, Marshal Matt Dillon often gets his man at the end of each episode, and everything works out for the relative best. But it’s the details between the show’s iconic opening and that moment that often matter most. Our heroes’ abilities to do the right thing only feel significant because it’s an ability that is constantly being challenged.
There is an eternal joy in watching people exhibit basic, simple morality as they overcome challenges in a series born from the classic, more professional performance and production sensibilities. It’s the same joy that draws some to shows like The Twilight Zone, Star Trek, and the aforementioned Little House on the Prairie. In some ways, the further we get from Gunsmoke only makes it easier to appreciate both the show’s influence on so much that followed and what an often wonderful antithesis it is to what modern prestige series navigating the post-antihero era have become.
