The saying from Ecclesiastes seems to have been tailor-made for the start of the 21st century – “There is nothing new under the sun” – rife as it is with sequels and remakes, of plot recycling and repackaging old ideas.
Enter Fuller House, the latest Neftlix series to pick up 20 years after the original Full House series. Many of us grew up watching this corny but beloved sitcom broadcast between 1987 to 1995, and I was no different, watching rerun after rerun with a dogged affection I now fail to understand.
When my grandparents moved to Canada, they found most modern pop culture distasteful, but they too developed a love of Full House.
“This is how a family communicates,” my 80-year-old Indian grandfather waxed on about the show.
“Shh,” my grandmother hushed him. “DJ is going to break up with her boyfriend!”
Somehow, after the first episode, you never saw the chaos of life with three children, the men having to decontaminate the whole house after everyone experiences a violent flu bug, of them having to chase a wild-haired girl around the living room with a brush in hand, screaming “Come back here right now!” or the shame of the working parent and forgetting to send your child to school with Valentine’s cards or Easter treats or really anything other than the clothes on her back and a lunch bag (which of course is not at all like me, an extremely organized and attentive parent!)
But we didn’t watch Full House for an examination of American culture, to watch characters struggling with obesity or Michelle playing with her dad’s semi-automatic weapon. No, we watched for the ideal, for the ways we wished life could be – the pristine, sparkling house with nary a toy out of place, the love between a father and his children, the harmless squabbling of close and loving siblings. If disaster ever did strike, it was always wrapped up within 22 minutes and heartfelt violin music that made you sigh in relief, realizing thank goodness, Stephanie pierced her ears without permission and DJ crashed a cement mixer into the house, but you know what, Dad still loves them anyway, and they can all have an ice cream and a laugh before they’re grounded for a week.
I think for a lot of us parents, it’s fun seeing our children now enjoying this series, probably for the same reason we did – to escape into a softer, kinder, and funnier world than our own.
My own daughter is breathless with anticipation for Fuller House, which is to debut this Friday on Netflix. She’s forever connecting Full House characters and events to our own lives.
“Daddy is like a mix of Uncle Joey and Uncle Jesse, because he’s funny and he plays music,” she says. Then she gives me a look and adds, “And you’re like Danny Tanner because you’re a journalist and you like to clean. A LOT.”
There’s a reason there’s nothing new under the sun – it’s because we all like a dose of nostalgia, a glimpse into a past that’s always better in memories.
So if we’re lucky, Fuller House will be every bit as cheesy, warm and heartfelt with a hearty dose of canned laughs thrown in. And maybe, just maybe, if I’m lucky, my daughter will find me a better character to be than Bob Saget.
