“Fuller House,” the reincarnation of the sitcom whose theme-song-slash-mission-statement vowed to bring back predictability, comes out the gate delivering on that promise.
In the Netflix series’ opening minutes, each of the show’s hallmark jokes is brought out in a nauseatingly relentless succession, all to raucous applause from the studio audience. Sauntering cool-guy Uncle Jesse (John Stamos) impersonates Elvis. Middle-aged man-child Uncle Joey (Dave Coulier), clad in blue Bug’s Bunny pajamas, does his throaty Bullwinkle voice. Zany neighbor Kimmy Gibbler (Andrea Barber) plops her acrid feet onto the dining room table. Catchphrase-prone Stephanie Tanner (Jodie Sweetin) dispels her biggest one, “How rude!”
The scene, which leads into Carly Rae Jepsen’s pop-ified take on the original intro, sets the tone for a reboot that preys on viewers’ nostalgia. There’s nothing particularly new about this universe; that much is evidenced by its hackneyed plot, which sees Stephanie and Kimmy helping the oldest Tanner, D.J. (Candace Cameron Bure), raise her kids. In the former series, it was the guys raising the girls, and now — voila — the roles have been reversed. It’s “The Hangover Part II” of TV reboots, repeating the same scenario but tweaking it. Creator Jeff Franklin likely wants us to feel like this is all super fresh, a feminist re-working of the original, but it rings false. The fact that the plot hinges on the death of D.J.’s husband doesn’t help.
Michelle Tanner, the adorable youngest child played by Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen, is noticeably the only cast member missing (a smart move). That’s because her character is off in New York “running her fashion empire,” a line that causes the entire cast to stare sarcastically into the camera, shattering the fourth wall. From this point on, “Fuller House” starts to feel less like a series and more like one prolonged reunion show fraught with clever little winks at the fans. There are even clips of the original interspersed into scenes.
Like the concept of nostalgia itself, this starts out kind of fun — a flashback to earlier, more carefree days — but soon becomes into a crushing reminder of our own mortality. In a way, though, all reboots come to represent our inability to cope with the passage of time and loss. Movies are obviously in the thick of this phase, and television is starting to take note of the phenomenon’s certified bankability. Personally, I’m wary of adding onto something I love, petrified it will tarnish the original forever. I cringed when I heard of a “Toy Story 4,” a new “Memento,” a remake of “The Birds.”
I admit, however, that I’m often proven wrong, and that has certainly been the case in the realm of TV. Two good examples immediately spring to mind: The first is “Fargo,” FX’s rendering of the classic 1996 Coen Brothers’ film. Borrowing only its darkly comic tone, the project stands as its own odd, frightening, endlessly cinematic work, delving “true” crime stories spread across Minnesota and North Dakota. The other stellar recent reboot was Netflix’s “Wet Hot American Summer: First Day of Camp,” a 10-part series born out of David Wain’s 2001 goofball cult classic. Set three months before the movie but with a cast of camp counselors now 15 years older, it worked wondrously as an exercise in absurdist slapstick comedy. What made these shows succeed was the ways in which they connected with their respective originals, drawing lines between overlapping universes. They also expanded and grew in ways its source material did not. There’s simply no subtlety in the “Full House” reprisal. It desperately tries to present itself like a sort of dream for fans of the dopey 1990s sitcom, but ends up feeling like a nightmare.
Listen, I don’t judge my friends or family members who were overjoyed to again see the camera swoop in on the Tanners’ San Francisco home. “Full House” never exactly represented the pinnacle of comedy, an after-school special where easy morals are hammered into your head with a melodramatic score. It’s the type of program that Kyle Mooney and Beck Bennett of “Saturday Night Live” lampoon in their vintage sitcom [shorts](http://www.hulu.com/watch/692467). “Fuller House” is exactly what you would expect from the show that was so enamored with keeping things predictable. If you were a die-hard “Full House” fan, you’ll probably dig this Netflix revival, and that’s perfectly fine.
It’s just that, in this age of the reboot we’re living in, it’s important we ask ourselves one question: Does it build on its legacy or cling to that of its predecessor?
Everywhere you look around “Fuller House,” you’re bombarded with sad glimpses of a bygone era. It should have stayed buried in the ground.
_Edited by Katherine Rosso | krosso@themaneater.com_
