10 Feel-Good Shows to Watch Right Now

As We See It centers on the perspectives of its three leads: Jack, Violet, and Harrison, twenty-something roommates who happen to be on the autism spectrum. Along with their caretaker Mandy and a small but loving group of friends and family, they embark on a journey of self-improvement that is sometimes heartwarming, sometimes heartbreaking, but always funny and kind.

Despite zeroing in on a very specific disorder, the struggles and accomplishments of As We See It’s characters feel universal and wholly relatable. The nuanced and refreshingly humane characterizations, along with an impressive balance of comedy and drama, are what make As We See It truly special. It is an underrated, enjoyable gem of a show, and quite digestible too since it only runs for eight episodes. 

Abbot Elementary is a mockumentary that follows a group of well-meaning but cash-strapped teachers trying to make their school a better place. The premise sounds simple enough, but the show’s big heart and sharp observations about the rotting U.S. education system make it a breath of fresh air in the sitcom world. Abbot Elementary’s characters are funny and likable, while also being fearless, defined, and nuanced. 

The show manages to do the seemingly impossible: genuinely and lightheartedly uplift the people it represents. It shines some much-needed light on the public service these undervalued teachers provide, without ever sounding too preachy or patronizing: an impressive feat for such a progressive show.

It’s a show with existential questions from an idealistic kid presented in the most absurd way. Finn the human and Jake the dog navigate emotions and dilemmas packaged into journeys and battles of varying degrees of cuteness and danger. The show’s colors are extremely bright and virtually every character is a unique creature, which can be overstimulating unless your brain is specifically ready for it. One of the benefits of having a big cast of characters per episode, though, is more chances to connect with something on the show, and a fairly large episode count means the show will have had so many quirky songs, recurring characters, nuggets of advice, and story arcs to dive into. Just like any other candy, Adventure Time should give you a boost if you don’t choke on it.

There’s a lot more to this show than what it packages itself as, which is a cute little show shot in the ‘90s/2000s about capable toddlers. We can assume the kids are safe and have adults offscreen with them, but anxious ol’ me has too many questions (e.g. How many more guardians are there besides cameramen? This isn’t a nature docu, so do the cameramen step in a lot?) The flash forwards in later episodes are a warm and welcome wrinkle to the show that deepens a distant nostalgia into an instant connection with these people. This show maximizes its short runtime by packing cuteness, tension, and fascination, and even finding a way to hit you in the feels.

In certain aspects, it’s a premise straight out of Disney, but the acting feels a bit more charming. It also has some legitimately funny material in the writing, refusing to rest on the laurels of a tight premise and moving the show away from one trick pony territory. The ghost rules aren’t necessarily inconsistent, but it does take a while to establish the patterns, so they feel like they’re often broken. But as a show generally following the tropes of music-centered teen shows, it excels in just about every department, from the original songs, to its themes of grief and the healing power of music.

Featuring almost no external conflict for its protagonist to face, this story of a young, ill-tempered calligraphy artist—sent to recollect himself at an island community—makes the private process of soul-searching as inspiring as it is cathartic. It’s a series that understands how one’s art is informed almost subliminally by the smallest observations and interactions, transforming the act of personal expression into a tribute to the people and places who give this expression real weight. So even if Barakamon spends most of its time on quaint, everyday experiences without any heightened drama, you get the sense that something significant is shifting within Seishu with every day that passes. It’s a warm, beautiful anime about some of the biggest existential questions, delivered in a modest, good-humored way.

This spiritual sequel to director Crystal Moselle’s Skate Kitchen gives that movie’s characters a fresh slate but retains all of its gentle empathy and dreamy vibes. Revolving around a diverse group of girl skaters in NYC — the real streets of which the show is shot on — Betty sensitively explores the usual facets of teen dramas (love, drugs, identity, friendship) without ever breaking into the melodrama that often colors the genre. Amidst all of the freewheeling skate montages and killer tunes, there are (unfortunately) relatable issues like sexual assault and emotional manipulation getting thoughtful — and, crucially — empowering treatment from the young cast. In the show’s lighter moments, the girls’ authentic chemistry shines through in the frequently improvised dialogue, which gives the show both a warm, inviting feel and a number of standout comedy moments (often courtesy of Nina Moran’s stoner girl Kirt). With six half-hour episodes per season (of which there are a much-too-short two), Betty covers admirably diverse ground while retaining a gorgeous hang-out vibe that makes it an addictive — even healing — watch.

Vibrant and quirky in a way that always rings true for its plucky protagonists, this abruptly cancelled children’s series embodies the optimism and empathetic spirit that we should all hope to gain from the younger generations. By starting their own neighborhood business, the core characters of The Baby-Sitters Club (played with undeniable star power and chemistry by its young ensemble) learn how to bring joy and healing to others while facing everything from discrimination and generational trauma to their own imperfect family lives. Behind the club’s humorous, sugarcoated antics is a real sense of helplessness that each character struggles with—forging ahead and doing whatever they can to fix things that they’ve been told are out of their control. It’s an unexpectedly touching gem of a show that proves kids’ entertainment can be truly beautiful.

It’s a solid premise for a show, but it is a pretty scary premise that keeps you a little on edge. The interview segments are just realistic enough to put that image in your head, while the meat of the show is a visualization of a young Dwayne Johnson worrying about girls, keeping up appearances, and just getting by, all to make him appear more real and relatable. Presentation-wise, it feels very much like a lighthearted ‘90s comedy with matching fashion, tunes, and warm messages. Meta aspects aside, it’s effectively Rock’s tribute to his family growing up, full of earnest performances once it gets going.

We follow the daily adventures of 3 bears that are individually lovable but collectively iconic. They rotate around as the centerpiece of an episode, each offering different flavors of humor namely dopey, slapstick, cringe, absurd, and when all else fails, funny animal. Some episodes take us into flashbacks of the bears as lost babies looking for a home, and it was a mistake to turn that into its own show, but it is in perfect quantity here. The recurring characters never overstay their welcome, changing the 3-person dynamic into even numbers where no character ventures off alone, or the inevitable 3 against the world, where the bears unite to overcome something else.