How does the opening line of the Full House theme song go? “Whatever happened to predict-a-bil-ity?” That sounds about right. Earlier today we celebrated the news that Netflix is helping comedy duo Bob Odenkirk and David Cross resurrect their cult 90s sketch comedy classic Mr. Show. Then, a few hours later, Netflix announced it would be bringing back another 90s comedy: Full House. But this is 90s nostalgia gone horribly wrong.
I’m as fond as anyone of my generation of ABC’s famed T.G.I.F. line-up. Who doesn’t enjoy the occasional viral nod to those shows? Danny, Joey, and Uncle Jesse singing the theme song on Jimmy Fallon or the dad from Dinosaurs rapping to the Notorious B.I.G.? Sure, why not? But Netflix’s plan to bring us back into the world of the Tanners for 13 whole episodes of Fuller House is woefully misguided.
This isn’t Netflix’s first lunge at the lazy, pandering kind of nostalgia. They’ve already rebooted the 50s comic/80s cartoon/90s movie Richie Rich into a TV series so culturally bankrupt as to prompt the Grantland headline: “The Heart of Streaming Darkness.” Then there’s the new Pee-Wee Herman film, and the Care Bears and Zelda shows, all cynical replications of the kind of material that sets the millennial Internet abuzz. (And they’re not the only ones. Girl Meets World, anyone?)
Unless, of course, you think there are great (or even any) artistic depths to be plumbed in Fuller House’s exploration of the continuing friendship of Candace Cameron Bure’s D.J. Tanner and Andrea Barber’s Kimmy Gibbler. (That’s right folks, hop in a time machine and go tell your younger self that Kimmy Gibbler will get her own show in 2016.)
Perhaps it’s snobby to deem one kind of comedy (Wet Hot American Summer and Mr. Show) as worthy of a reboot, and dismiss others as beneath Netflix’s dignity. But there has to be a difference between giving vital and somewhat under-seen comedic talents like Odenkirk, Cross, Michael Showalter, David Wain, and even Paul Reubens a larger platform to play on, and resurrecting cultural behemoths that, if looked at through nostalgia-free lenses, didn’t really contribute much culturally in the first place.
It’s especially galling because Netflix has, in such a short time, made a name for itself as the home of creative freedom and bold artistic choices. Shows like Orange is the New Black and, to a lesser extent, House of Cards serve as vanguards for a brave new world of cutting edge content. And if down-the-middle panders like Fuller House and Richie Rich are the price we pay for the likes of Grace and Frankie and The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt then I suppose it’s worth it. But I don’t think Netflix needs this low hanging fruit. In the words of Joey Gladstone, cut it out.
