Eleven, Emily, and Benoit: Netflix's All-Star Cast Takes Over Christmas

Max Sterling, 12/1/2025December 2025 ushers in a streaming frenzy, with Netflix leading the charge through original series and holiday specials. From "Stranger Things" to "Emily in Paris," the month offers a chaotic mix of nostalgia and novelty, challenging viewers to embrace the abundance while seeking those small, meaningful moments of connection.

Take Netflix, for example. The streamer’s putting all its chips on the table, and maybe the neighbor’s down the hall as well. Chief among the blockbusters—“Stranger Things,” finally lurching toward its showdown, draws a curtain on the Upside Down saga just in time for Christmas dinner debates. Whether that landing will be a triumphant leap or more of a faceplant onto a spread of lukewarm mashed potatoes, well, only the Duffer Brothers know for sure. There’s a weird poetic symmetry to Eleven’s final stand arriving as Gen Z elbows Boomers out of the way, everyone jostling for custody of the remote (and ideally, a clear view of the screen not streaked with cranberry sauce).

Netflix isn’t stopping at supernatural fireworks. There’s Benoit Blanc, best described as Kentucky’s answer to Sherlock Holmes, trading sly winks for Southern bon mots in “Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery.” The only thing more tightly wound than the murder plot’s likely to be family tension over which A-lister will bite the dust first. And then, as if to gently lampoon its own brand, “Emily in Paris” is back—except this time, the titular Emily is conspicuously not in Paris. The shift to Rome and Venice does little to dampen the show’s dizzying fashion montage. It does, however, lend the title a kind of accidental, running-joke brilliance. (Let’s face it: if Emily can break free of geographic constraints, so can your cousin’s terrible cologne.)

Elsewhere in Streamland, Apple TV seems intent on supplying the month’s Vitamin Whimsy. Kicking things off is “The First Snow of Fraggle Rock”—a collision course where Jim Henson’s imagination meets the faint glow of holiday lights, offering families low stakes, high charm, and just enough nostalgia to soften the blow of December’s electric bills. Contrast that with “F1 The Movie,” where Brad Pitt’s latest alter-ego, Sonny Hayes, is the cinematic equivalent of gulping down a double espresso before careening onto the track—nostalgia, adrenaline, a whiff of impending midlife reflection, all wrapped in the shriek of tires and crash-tested egos.

Variety, apparently, is the one gift that can’t be regifted. Every major platform is determined to cover the calendar’s every square inch: HBO Max tosses up a fever dream of classics and cult obsessions, from “Mad Men” to anime stunners like “Perfect Blue” and “The Girl Who Leapt Through Time.” Over on Prime Video, expect to bounce between heavyweights (“12 Angry Men”, “Platoon”) and pixelated blockbusters—yes, there’s apparently such a thing as "A Minecraft Movie" now, which may finally bridge the generational divide between cinephiles and twelve-year-olds squinting at their phones. Meanwhile, Peacock doubles down on its status as the streaming wild card: "Rocky" and "Saw" marathons punctuated by Alan Rickman’s annual descent from Nakatomi Plaza; because, for reasons no philosopher has yet explained, "Die Hard" remains the preferred Christmas movie for people who like their tinsel with a side of explosions.

Comedy and guilty pleasures aren’t just for dessert. Hulu unveils yet another “Home Alone” installment, and Tubi invites anyone desperate for brain-downshifting to binge “Judge Mathis” or “The Steve Harvey Show” until the real world feels a little less overwhelming. On any given night, there’s a cocktail of blockbusters and comfort food flicks—“Forrest Gump,” “Goodfellas,” “Pulp Fiction,” and “The Wolf of Wall Street”—available in so many places it’s almost harder to avoid them.

In the thick of this carousel spins something softer, almost deliberately understated: Noah Baumbach’s “Jay Kelly.” Its logline barely raises its voice—a gentle road trip meditation featuring George Clooney and Adam Sandler, meandering through reflections on fame and family. In a December crammed with bombast and sequels, this is cinema’s equivalent of a deep exhale—a soft shoe shuffle in a dance floor full of tap-dancing robots. Sometimes, the boldest statement is a whisper.

But subtlety, let’s not kid ourselves, is rarely the seasonal favorite. Netflix is hedging its bets with a “Troll” sequel that’s poised to deliver demolition-derby spectacle—think Godzilla vs Kong, only with twice the Nordic mythology and half the subtlety. December, it seems, is determined to prove bigger is better, louder is best, and the only true miracle is managing to hold a single conversation over all that digital noise.

So what to make of this cornucopia—the living room beginning to resemble a traffic jam at the intersection of nostalgia and novelty, with everyone jostling for couch space and bandwidth? This isn’t just content overload; it’s a cultural high-wire act. Gone are the evenings where the only real decision was which holiday rerun to endure. Now, every night feels like a televised triage—should the household choose comfort, chaos, or that faint hope for something new?

Perhaps, the true spirit of December 2025 isn’t just in abundance, but in the challenge it presents: embracing the impossibility of seeing it all, and savoring the small miracles—a clever line here, a quiet performance there, a moment of actual connection amid the bright, blinking avalanche. Indecision may loom, but so does opportunity. So, pass the remote (or stash it under a cushion if peace must prevail)—all things considered, there’s never been a better time to lose oneself in the blinking glow of too much, and call it a holiday tradition.

December 2025 doesn’t sidle in quietly—it clatters through the front door, arms overloaded with content, dropping sequels, finales, and neon-lit originals in a blizzard of promise and pixelated temptation. Somewhere between wiping the frost off streaming menus and untangling a string of last year’s Christmas lights, it hits: the holidays no longer hinge on ritual viewings of “It’s a Wonderful Life” or fireplace Yule Logs. Now, it’s all about navigating the minefield of streaming platforms—each one pitching its own perfect December, like pop-up carnival barkers hoping you’ll buy a ticket (or, at the very least, forget to cancel that free trial).Take Netflix, for example. The streamer’s putting all its chips on the table, and maybe the neighbor’s down the hall as well. Chief among the blockbusters—“Stranger Things,” finally lurching toward its showdown, draws a curtain on the Upside Down saga just in time for Christmas dinner debates. Whether that landing will be a triumphant leap or more of a faceplant onto a spread of lukewarm mashed potatoes, well, only the Duffer Brothers know for sure. There’s a weird poetic symmetry to Eleven’s final stand arriving as Gen Z elbows Boomers out of the way, everyone jostling for custody of the remote (and ideally, a clear view of the screen not streaked with cranberry sauce).Netflix isn’t stopping at supernatural fireworks. There’s Benoit Blanc, best described as Kentucky’s answer to Sherlock Holmes, trading sly winks for Southern bon mots in “Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery.” The only thing more tightly wound than the murder plot’s likely to be family tension over which A-lister will bite the dust first. And then, as if to gently lampoon its own brand, “Emily in Paris” is back—except this time, the titular Emily is conspicuously not in Paris. The shift to Rome and Venice does little to dampen the show’s dizzying fashion montage. It does, however, lend the title a kind of accidental, running-joke brilliance. (Let’s face it: if Emily can break free of geographic constraints, so can your cousin’s terrible cologne.)Elsewhere in Streamland, Apple TV seems intent on supplying the month’s Vitamin Whimsy. Kicking things off is “The First Snow of Fraggle Rock”—a collision course where Jim Henson’s imagination meets the faint glow of holiday lights, offering families low stakes, high charm, and just enough nostalgia to soften the blow of December’s electric bills. Contrast that with “F1 The Movie,” where Brad Pitt’s latest alter-ego, Sonny Hayes, is the cinematic equivalent of gulping down a double espresso before careening onto the track—nostalgia, adrenaline, a whiff of impending midlife reflection, all wrapped in the shriek of tires and crash-tested egos.Variety, apparently, is the one gift that can’t be regifted. Every major platform is determined to cover the calendar’s every square inch: HBO Max tosses up a fever dream of classics and cult obsessions, from “Mad Men” to anime stunners like “Perfect Blue” and “The Girl Who Leapt Through Time.” Over on Prime Video, expect to bounce between heavyweights (“12 Angry Men”, “Platoon”) and pixelated blockbusters—yes, there’s apparently such a thing as "A Minecraft Movie" now, which may finally bridge the generational divide between cinephiles and twelve-year-olds squinting at their phones. Meanwhile, Peacock doubles down on its status as the streaming wild card: "Rocky" and "Saw" marathons punctuated by Alan Rickman’s annual descent from Nakatomi Plaza; because, for reasons no philosopher has yet explained, "Die Hard" remains the preferred Christmas movie for people who like their tinsel with a side of explosions.Comedy and guilty pleasures aren’t just for dessert. Hulu unveils yet another “Home Alone” installment, and Tubi invites anyone desperate for brain-downshifting to binge “Judge Mathis” or “The Steve Harvey Show” until the real world feels a little less overwhelming. On any given night, there’s a cocktail of blockbusters and comfort food flicks—“Forrest Gump,” “Goodfellas,” “Pulp Fiction,” and “The Wolf of Wall Street”—available in so many places it’s almost harder to avoid them.In the thick of this carousel spins something softer, almost deliberately understated: Noah Baumbach’s “Jay Kelly.” Its logline barely raises its voice—a gentle road trip meditation featuring George Clooney and Adam Sandler, meandering through reflections on fame and family. In a December crammed with bombast and sequels, this is cinema’s equivalent of a deep exhale—a soft shoe shuffle in a dance floor full of tap-dancing robots. Sometimes, the boldest statement is a whisper.But subtlety, let’s not kid ourselves, is rarely the seasonal favorite. Netflix is hedging its bets with a “Troll” sequel that’s poised to deliver demolition-derby spectacle—think Godzilla vs Kong, only with twice the Nordic mythology and half the subtlety. December, it seems, is determined to prove bigger is better, louder is best, and the only true miracle is managing to hold a single conversation over all that digital noise.So what to make of this cornucopia—the living room beginning to resemble a traffic jam at the intersection of nostalgia and novelty, with everyone jostling for couch space and bandwidth? This isn’t just content overload; it’s a cultural high-wire act. Gone are the evenings where the only real decision was which holiday rerun to endure. Now, every night feels like a televised triage—should the household choose comfort, chaos, or that faint hope for something new?Perhaps, the true spirit of December 2025 isn’t just in abundance, but in the challenge it presents: embracing the impossibility of seeing it all, and savoring the small miracles—a clever line here, a quiet performance there, a moment of actual connection amid the bright, blinking avalanche. Indecision may loom, but so does opportunity. So, pass the remote (or stash it under a cushion if peace must prevail)—all things considered, there’s never been a better time to lose oneself in the blinking glow of too much, and call it a holiday tradition.