10 TV reboots that should have never been made
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Has anyone ever been excited about a reboot? Do fans actually like seeing their favorite TV shows brought back from the dead? Does putting new actors into old roles ever work? We think the Gossip Girl Reddit (reboot division) said it best: who asked for this?
It's not like Hollywood doesn't know how to make original, ground-breaking, addictive television — we're literally living in an extended golden era of binge-worthy goodness as we speak. So… why all the reboots? Why did Charlie's Angels, The Odd Couple, and The Love Boat reanimate like zombie corpses? Why are we threatened with new Frasiers and Quantum Leaps on a daily basis? There's really only one logical answer — hear us out — Jordan Peele's "sequel doctor," Star Magic Jackson Jr., is a real person, alive and well and popping his frosted-blonde head into writers' rooms to encourage bad ideas that vampirically steal from the originals.
But on a more serious tip: messing with people's treasured TV memories should not be taken lightly. Silly as it might sound, the love you have for your shows is legit, and it's not just about the shows themselves, but the people you watched them with, the pets you snuggled with and the snacks you ate. Take the Knight Rider reboot — the sheer rage aimed at this thing was a textbook example as to why roaming the TV graveyard with a shovel in hand and a paycheck in mind is never a good idea (though making a show about reboots might be).
So, with the hope that Hollywood can learn from past mistakes, check out EW's chronological list of the 10 TV reboots that should've never been made.
<i>Love Boat: The Next Wave</i> (1998)
This is a show that needed to fly its camp flag high — and whoever thought to hire Paul Williams to sing a caribbean-flavored version of the theme song obviously did, too. Veering dangerously near Adult Swim's Too Many Cooks territory (why does the Captain put his hat on three times?) this jittery, delightful disaster of an opening credit sequence had us certain the show would be adding some extra cheese to the old formula.
Alas, we were mistaken. Despite the wacky start (and Joan Severance as "head of security") the rest of the show is not nearly fun enough — or at all. Exhibit A: The Very Sincere Captain (Robert Ulrich) and his Troubled Teen Son (Kyle Howard). Trust us, it just goes downhill from there, with mushy romantic subplots (aka "problems" that are always solved by closing credits) and dull performances. But even some silly, Aaron Spelling-y stories involving the Bermuda Triangle, mind-reading, and an onboard triplet birth can't save this ship from sinking.
<i>That 80s Show</i> (2002)
The secret to That '70s Show success wasn't the songs or the clothes… it was the strong characters and their relationships to each other (thank you for attending our screenwriting class). The love those characters had for each other felt real, as opposed to That '80s Show, which never lets you forget you're watching a sitcom.
Taking a cue from John Hughes, That '80s Show includes an edgy-yet-kind record store owner (comedian Margaret Smith), heir apparent to the same alternative archetype Annie Potts played in Pretty in Pink. And while hanging out at a record store is an awesome sitcom setup, the clunky writing paired with a laugh track that doesn't seem connected to any…actual…jokes…destroys any hope of authenticity. The promising cast is led by a young Glenn Howerton (It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia), but things never quite gel, and you always get the feeling there's a grittier show trapped beneath the sitcom's gloss.
It's not like That '80s Show isn't pleasant, because it is — coasting along on light storylines that bubble up to neat, inconsequential conclusions. The problem is that this bland sitcom style is jarring alongside the "cool" and "authentic" references, like one character's liberty spiked hair (and scenes of her sleeping in an alley) and clips from bands like Black Flag (!) and Killing Joke (!!). But '70s Show purists can rest easy knowing producers Bonnie and Terry Turner returned to basics with That '90s Show, debuting on Netflix in January of 2023. The series' trailer transports fans back to Red and Kitty's home in Wisconsin, where Eric and Donna's daughter Leia is set to spend the summer of 1995 with her grandparents. With beloved cast members from the original series returning to play with the show's up-and-comers, there's at least some hope that the '90s are more promising.
<i>Bionic Woman</i> (2007)
A reboot of a spin-off (whew), NBC's wholly unnecessary Bionic Woman might have seemed easy to pull off, at least on paper. Just take the concept (superpowered cyborg lady) and update it with a new cast and a modern setting, right? Wrong. Even a show about high-tech robo parts ("Better, faster, stronger!") needs a human heart, which is something the original series never forgot, packing each episode with the kind of light-hearted storylines Lindsay Wagner (as Jamie Sommers) excelled at.
Who could forget the pro wrestling episode that looked like a lost episode of GLOW, or the bionic dog, or that, uh, mind-controlling shampoo? Wagner's approachable heroine became a feminist icon (she won an Emmy for the role in 1977) with the kind of wickedly dry sense of humor usually reserved for male action heroes. In one scene, after a cop asks what her arm is made of (as she bends a piece of metal) she answers "sugar and spice." Bam!
As a tennis pro (boy, did '70s sitcoms love tennis) and a sky-diving enthusiast, not to mention being The Six Million Dollar Man's girlfriend, Sommers was already pretty freaking cool before the deadly accident that turned her…bionic. 2007's new Jamie Sommers (played by Michelle Ryan) was also saved from a fatal accident by becoming bionic. But what does she choose to do with her new strength, speed, and super abilities? Follow the most boring career path ever, that's what, working for a covert anti-terrorist organization. Set in a dark, violent world, the reboot lacked humor and left viewers cold. And without any bionic dogs, wrestling matches, or desert car races on the horizon, low ratings led to cancellation after just eight episodes.
<i>Knight Rider</i> (2008)
"Michael, are you all right?" If you were explaining the plot of Knight Rider to an alien, you'd probably stop yourself somewhere around "So there's this guy? And he's got, like, a talking car?" because it sounds a bit… silly. But we humans do adore our automobiles, and the creators know it. KITT the car is bulletproof, fireproof, and can go really, really fast. But the thing that matters most is that KITT can talk, and the co-dependent relationship between car and driver is familiar to anyone who's ever gotten behind the wheel.
Of course, the original Knight Rider wouldn't have worked without David Hasselhoff, a square-jawed, self-deprecating Ken doll with a blue-steel stare who treated KITT like a slightly annoying best buddy. The original KITT was voiced by William Daniels (St. Elsewhere, Boy Meets World), while the new one had Val Kilmer, who can't be faulted for the fiasco — that blame falls squarely on the shoulders of the producers.
We have SO many questions for them, like: Why was the reboot so deadly serious? Why did you cast actors who weren't funny? And WHY, in the name of all that is unleaded, did you mess with the car? Changing it from a Pontiac to a Ford was one thing. But changing it into a Ford that…uh…changed is another. What is this, Transformers? Why is KITT having some kind of CGI-enhanced panic attack, flipping from a sports car into a truck and back into a sports car? And featuring the "Ford" logo so prominently was just gross.
The original was especially beloved by 12-year-old boys, many who grew up to become TV critics, apparently, because the amount of pure rage hurled at this reboot was… something. When writers get mad, they hurl insults like nobody's business, calling the new Knight Rider "incompetent," "vacuous," "barely coherent," "absurd," "cheap," and "convoluted." Luckily for them (and us!) the re-runs will live on, along with The Hoff.
<i>Melrose Place 2.0</i> (2009)
As reboots go, killing off an original cast member (Laura Leighton's Sydney Andrews) in the first seven minutes was… a choice. Like Melrose Place before it, the 2.0 version followed a group of 20-somethings living in a West Hollywood apartment complex called… Melrose Place. If you're already bored, join the club.
Built on the twin pillars of murder and prostitution, the show delivers a certain brand (CW) of glossy trash and bad dialogue that some people might have been clamoring for back in 2009, though it's hard to imagine who. Those with vacuuming to do, perhaps? Ashlee Simpson's casting as the scheming Violet might've been fun, if she could act, which she cannot, unless a blank stare counts — a far cry from Heather Locklear's addictively nasty Amanda (one of EW's "100 Greatest Characters of the Last 20 Years"). Adding other original cast members here and there, including Locklear herself joining the party mid-season, didn't help. And while the rest of the group tried hard to drum up excitement around that familiar pool, the chemistry (and everything else) fell flat.
<i>Charlie's Angels</i> (2011)
If you've ever asked the question, "how does something earn zero percent on Rotten Tomatoes?" say hello to the answer: the Charlie's Angels reboot. We know it's not the '70s anymore (and the original's intro about "three little girls who went to the Police Academy" makes us glad for that) but does everything "modern" also have to be so dark and serious? And if serious really was the goal, why remake a show whose appeal was light-hearted comedic plots and female friendships? OG storylines included a deadly waterbed, a roller derby murder, and a series of "disguises" (tennis pro, disco instructor, heiress, photographer, showgirl) that sounded like something a 10 year old playing with Barbies would've dreamed up, while new storylines are about… child slavery rings. Sigh.
If the goal was to create a hacky action series without any of the joy of the original, well, mission accomplished, but asking viewers to believe that Eve French, the Angel played by Minka Kelly, is a former, uh, "street racer" does feel like a joke. But there's certainly nothing else worth laughing about here, especially when eight minutes into the pilot, one of the three Angels is murdered in an explosion. Eve French quickly replaces her (but not without a messy karate fight on her houseboat first — this sounds way more fun than it is). A clunker from the generally astute producing pair of Drew Barrymore and Nancy Juvonen, the reboot's tone was as ill-fitting as a designer knock-off, leading to cancellation after just four episodes.
<i>Charmed</i> (2018)
Let's pretend, for a moment, that the Charmed reboot isn't actually a reboot at all, but instead, a brand new show about three young witches living in a cool old San Francisco mansion. Just a pleasantly diverting YA fantasy drama minding its own business, nothing to see here. And while the new Charmed isn't what you'd call amazing, it isn't horrible either — we especially love how it diversified the cast (even including a transgender witch, Joséfina, played by a transgender actor, Mareya Salazar). Judging by these merits alone, the show would not go on anyone's "worst" list, despite some clunky dialogue (Macy's "I'm a scientist!" line comes to mind).
But, alas, it isn't a new show, but a reboot of late '90s/early aughts series Charmed, and the reason this show made our list is because of the off-screen drama, meaning a ridiculous online war that turned ugly. The issue we have with this fight is how the original Charmed cast, writers, and fans seem to be unclear about the definition of reboots. It's nothing personal, guys, it's a reboot. It's not trying to "erase" the memory of the old show, it's a reboot. It isn't even "borrowing ideas," it's just acting like what it is, which is… a reboot.
Sure, the new Charmed is heavy-handed at times, as the team battles magical foes along with more Earth-bound ones like prejudice and bias — but isn't that exactly what witches are supposed to do? Fight the demons and the patriarchy?! And while it's hard to tell if the online vitriol had anything to do with the declining viewership, after four seasons the CW gave the reboot the boot.
<i>The Odd Couple</i> (2015)
As a wise man once said, (or didn't): every generation gets the Odd Couple it deserves. Fifty-four years-old, this is a concept that keeps on ticking. From the original Neil Simon play, to the 1970s Jack Klugman/Tony Randall TV version, to the 1975 cartoon featuring a cat and dog (guess which one's the slob), to a 1980s attempt (with Sanford and Son's Demond Wilson and Barney Miller's Ron Glass) to Matthew Perry's 2015 take… Felix and Oscar are truly the Reboot Kings.
Whatever the era, the basic scenario — an uptight stress-bag agitated by his relaxed-to-a-fault friend — does have comic potential. And with Perry (a decade past Friends at this point) as the grumbly, slovenly Oscar and Reno 911!'s Thomas Lennon as the clean-freak Felix, plus a strong supporting cast, you could almost imagine this working. And maybe an FX or HBO level of freedom — no laugh tracks, no censors, a Curb Your Enthusiasm-level authenticity filled with awkward moments — could've fulfilled its promise. Instead, CBS shoved it into the driest of molds, cranked up the laugh track (please make these illegal), and filled it with boilerplate jokes, creating a remake dustier than Oscar's baseboards.
<i>Heroes Reborn</i> (2015)
This one's got us stumped: why reboot a show considered a failure to begin with? By now, everyone knows the original Heroes coulda been a contender with its strong casting, good performances, and great logline ("save the cheerleader/save the world") — it just never really soared. Maybe this reboot was an attempt to right the wrongs?
And everyone deserves a second chance, even Evos ("evolved humans," aka regular folks with superpowers)... right? Well the non-Evos of the world would disagree, which is the main plotline of the show. From Illinois to Japan, Los Angeles to Austin, various characters with various powers criss-cross the show like Charlie Day's red-string-riddled conspiracy board. By keeping things so opaque, tangled, and confusing, the writers of Heroes Reborn cut the audience's connection to the characters — and gave this reboot the kiss of death.
<i>Gossip Girl</i> (2021)
While the original Gossip Girl was many things, it was never boring. Unlike, sadly, HBO Max's reboot. The two versions do have some things in common: the stellar Kristen Bell VO, the glam setting (NYC's Upper East Side), and the basic premise of rich kids attending posh private schools. But while the OG version kept its central mystery ("who IS Gossip Girl?") close to the vest for SIX SEASONS, not revealing the identity until the final episode (way to play the long game!), the new show gives a central "secret" away in the… pilot?
Unfortunately, this "secret" is such a weird and reality-challenged swerve that it's hard to believe it was allowed to leave the writers room, because, (spoiler alert) in the reboot, the teachers are GG. That's right, the teachers hate the kids so much they decide to bring them down with their own (illegal, weird, morally compromised) version of Gossip Girl. The original Gossip Girl masterfully weaved tech into the plot, inserting as many close-ups of BlackBerrys and flip phones as a Fry's employee training video. And while the current show also depends on iPhones, these weapons are now wielded by evil teachers, (including one who takes a photo of kids making out, triple-ewwww) making it a whole lot less… appealing. And let's be serious for a second: in an era when teachers face monumental challenges, portraying them as pitiful bad guys is a bad take — like kicking people when they're down.
Yes, the original was a guilty pleasure — but at least it was a pleasure — full of uniquely iconic (and insane) characters who burned themselves into viewers' brains forever. The new cast is pretty, but vacant, and the plot lines are weird and dull, sinking the reboot like a lead balloon on the steps of the Met.
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