Fun
Frisky
Nostalgic
Intense
Adventurous
Choked Up
Curious
Romantic
Weird
The verdict is in and, as predicted, Netflix’s Fuller House is awful. AV Club gave it a D grade and considered it generous, calling it “A porn parody without porn.” The Wrap feels similarly, saying the sitcom reboot is the result of “’90s nostalgia gone wrong.” Our own Kayla Cobb agrees, but attempts to soften the blow to diehard fans: “Does it matter that Fuller House is terrible? If you loved the original, you’ll love the reboot.” Fair enough. I suppose fans of the first installment could simply ignore all the heinous reactions and try to enjoy the reunion anyway. Yet, by ignoring the bad reviews (which, frankly, seem to be the only reviews) we’re ignoring the real problem at hand: inundation of nostalgia. We did not need a Fuller House. I would argue that we probably didn’t ask for a Fuller House. Still, we got one anyway. But the worst part about this reboot madness isn’t Fuller House: it’s that it’s staining the reputation of the critic wide declared, The Golden Age of Television.
Thus far, Netflix has played on audiences’ collective longing for the past quite well. They gave Camp Firewood fans reason to be excited back in May of 2015 with Wet Hot American Summer: First Day of Camp. They even showered Mr. Show fans with a delightfully offbeat W/Bod & David. And, at long last, we’re being granted with an Amy Sherman-Palladino run Gilmore Girls summation: something we actually pleaded for since the show’s unsatisfactory ending back in 2007. But Fuller House? It just doesn’t line up. A solid reboot knows exactly what it is then moves on, allegedly serving one singular purpose: conclude this story. (Unless you’re Arrested Development and choose to, oddly enough, leave it open-ended). What we’re seeing now, however, with Fuller House, with The X-Files, and soon, with Twin Peaks; is a continuation of stories that didn’t need to be wrapped in a bow in the first place.
Full House ran for eight, long seasons. The X-Files had nine seasons to give audiences what they wanted, and Twin Peaks harnesses its too cool cult status because of how it was concealed in televised time and space. Being cancelled too soon isn’t necessarily a bad thing! But this relentless trend is starting to become thoroughly exhausting (you really think us critics want to pitch ideas for Fuller House?) and, I would argue, one of the major reasons we complain there’s too much TV.
Fuller House and other unwanted reboots are becoming Frankensteins of the tube. All of the parts are essentially present, but something’s just… missing. A soul, a purpose, or, in this particular case: the Olsen twins. Shows end for a reason. And while I’m as psyched as the next Stars Hollow fan to see the Gilmore Girls back in caffeinated action, series like Fuller House make me nervous. Because what if it sucks? What if it wasn’t meant to be? What if we’re screwing with history, here? Thing is, we are messing with history and when something is brought back to life — in this case, a television show — there’s no telling how it’s going to play out.
Photos: Netflix
