We seem to be out of ideas.
For every thoughtful sequel or adaptation*, we get four or five half-baked piles of thinly-veiled shit meant to sell toys or Billy Corgan albums**. The recent news of a revival of both The X-Files (good) and Coach (bad) comes on the heels of a Boy Meets World spin-off*** and rumors that Netflix is looking at doing something similar with Full House****.
I’ve touched on this topic before, but in the spirit of originality, here are three pitches for sequels to televisions shows that were never really that great or popular to begin with:
I have not travelled far in my twenty nine years as a tax paying 21st century human boy.
My self-awareness can be measured by dividing the preceding statement with the observation that it is most definitely literal and also probably figurative. The cheaper- arguably more concise metaphor- is that I’m getting older and trying to find my place in the world*.
It’s an old story- if you’re a dickhead you might call it cliché- but I’ve essentially packed all of my stuff in a car and drove across the country in search of a change: location, lifestyle and attitude. This is not something I would do on my own, as I’m fortunate enough to have a supportive companion going through the same late-twenties malaise: debt, career-paths, friendships morphing and decaying, more debt, marriage (to me), happiness and a future teetering on the line between hope and desolation. As an anxiety-ridden fellow often locked in a routine, I would not have made this much needed change without her support and guidance. I jumped off the cliff- the water is coming towards me fast and all I can do is brace and wait to hit the surface. Is it deep enough? Will I find a job? Is there a hidden jagged rock that’s going to rip my knee caps off?**
As bright as the future is, leaving behind friends and family with no timetable of when you’ll see them again is fucking impossible.