An Unnecessary Evil: The Reboot & Hollywood’s Insistence Upon Fixing What is Not Broken
By Eva Rogovin
In the world of entertainment, one trend consistently haunts our screens: the notorious “reboot.” Hollywood’s fascination with revisiting classic TV shows and films has become a common yet disappointing phenomenon. In shows like Nancy Drew, Gossip Girl, Beverly Hills 90210, Gilmore Girls, and Sex and the City, the question looms large: why does the industry insist on fixing what is not broken?
At first glance, the idea of a reboot holds promise. Nostalgia can be a powerful vehicle in bringing audiences back to the familiar worlds and characters they once loved. But problems arise when these remakes fail to rekindle the same magic brought about in the originals, even sometimes going so far as to change the tune of the entire narrative. Oftentimes the very essence that made originals beloved is lost in translation, leaving fans largely disappointed with a hankering for the authenticity of the past.
Take, for example, the show Gossip Girl. Having originally aired in 2007, the show remains an iconic teen drama that immerses viewers in the glamorous and scandalous lives of Manhattan’s elite, serving as a getaway into the cutthroat world of privileged high schoolers and their adult enablers. The original series, with its witty narration and extravagant portrayal of privilege, seemed to capture the hearts of viewers who reveled in its escapism.
But fourteen years later in the ill-fated 2021 reboot, it is incontestable that the magic had dissipated entirely. In addition to complaints about episode length and the rate at which conflict was resolved, fans were left frustrated by a forced attempt at relevance. Pandering to “woke” audiences, the reboot sharply veered from the seductively problematic original, leaving spectators bored and disenchanted.
In a complete departure from the glamor that defined its predecessor, the 2021 version injected real-world issues into a narrative that thrived on its improbable scenarios and romanticized lives. As a friend once astutely put it, “I just want to watch rich privileged kids do rich privileged kid things. I don’t want the drama to be relatable—my complete inability to relate is precisely what made it so good.”
Audiences’ overwhelming discontentment ultimately led to the reboot’s discontinuation, highlighting the stark contrast between the original’s allure and the misguided attempt to align with contemporary societal norms.
Specifically, disapproval and condemnation of the Gossip Girl reboot have circulated on more casual platforms such as TikTok. In response to a video comparing the two iterations of the show, fans of the original—having transformed into critics of the reboot—poignantly highlighted in the comments its various shortcomings. Among their critiques was the failure of the reboot to preserve the “toxicity,” “evil,” and “drama” that characterized the original, even claiming that such toxicity was part of the “fun” of the original’s appeal. One user aptly observed that the true “elite” in our society are the opposite of “woke,” which is precisely what the revamped characters are portrayed to be. Another user declared that even in the “woke” culture of the reboot, “bullies and villains” should still exist.
The online consensus suggests that ‘wokeness’ may not be a fit for New York’s elite.
As seen in the case of Gossip Girl, the desire to keep up with the times and appeal to new generations often drives the decision to remake a series or film. In reboots, Hollywood largely thinks it owes modern audiences a new and relatable narrative. However, the key lies in the delicate balance between authenticity and innovation. A reboot should feel like a natural evolution, seamlessly integrating contemporary themes without sacrificing the heart, soul, and depth of the original.
Take, for another example, the continuation of the iconic teen drama Beverly Hills 90210. Having aired in 1990, the show was a cultural phenomenon that captured the essence of its time. But in the 2008 remake, shortened to just 90210, it became clear that the show had compromised the timeless elements of the original.
In the new series, familiar characters like Brenda and Brandon Walsh ceased to exist entirely, leaving behind the nostalgic charm of the ‘90s, and introducing a cast that lacked the same easy chemistry as members in the original. Gone too was “The Peach Pit,” a once central spot for teen drama on the show, which was replaced with an impersonal environment of smartphones and social media in the remake. What’s more, the remake’s insertion of modern issues such as drug addiction and teen pregnancy revealed an off-kilter attempt at modernization that ultimately felt forced and inauthentic, leaving viewers yearning for the simple allure of the 90s.
In one flaming critique of the reboot called “The Least Cared-About Show on Television: The Peculiar Case of the 90210 Remake,” the author substantiates his title by claiming “There’s a wealth of data — some scientific and some anecdotal — suggesting this show might be the least cared-about program in all of television” (Steven Hyden). He even wagers “ I can almost guarantee that you don’t care about it” (Hyden).
As audiences continue to witness the disappointing outcomes of reboots, the question remains with more urgency: when will Hollywood learn from their mistakes? The industry appears to be trapped in a cycle of attempting to recreate past successes without understanding the intricacies that made those originals so timeless.
One of the most crucial aspects often overlooked is the involvement of the original creators or key creative minds and presences. Without their insight and vision, reboots risk becoming soulless imitations, devoid of the passion that fueled the initial success. The recent remake of Sex and the City, titled And Just Like That, faced criticism for precisely this reason. The absence of creator Darren Star and key cast member Kim Cattrall, save for one brief cameo, left a void that no amount of renovation could fill, and unsurprisingly led to a lackluster response from fans.
The revamped Sex and the City faced a great deal of online criticism as well, particularly in more critically acclaimed publications. One unflattering article titled “The Ghost of a Once Era-Defining Show” calls the show “an awkward bid at relevance” (James Poniewozik, “The New York Times”) while another, cleverly dubbed “‘And Just Like That,’ It All Went Wrong” renders the show “constrained by its fear of being conventional” (Sophie Gilbert, “The Atlantic”). Throughout both articles and in countless other critiques, Cattrall’s gaping absence is addressed, raising the broader question of whether or not it is worth revamping a show without the entire original cast, let alone at all.
As time moves on, the reboot conundrum persists as Hollywood grapples with the challenging balance between nostalgia and innovation. While some may argue that remakes can provide a fresh perspective on beloved stories, the industry must tread carefully, ensuring that the hearts and souls of originals (which are famous for a reason) are preserved. Until Hollywood learns from the mistakes of the past, the pattern of failed reboots is likely to continue. And despite loose ends, nostalgia, and a yearning for more of the story to be told, until that pattern is altered, audiences will continue to be left wondering if perhaps some classics are better left untouched entirely.