The Graveyard Shift
There's something deeply unsettling about watching John Cleese shuffle back into Basil Fawlty's shoes at 84, like witnessing your favourite uncle attempt the Macarena at a wedding. Yet here we are, in 2024, watching British television commissioners raid the graveyard of classic shows with all the subtlety of Burke and Hare.
The announcement of Fawlty Towers: The Return sent shockwaves through the nation—not of excitement, but of the sort of existential dread usually reserved for realising you've accidentally liked your ex's Instagram post from 2019. Because if there's one thing British television has taught us over the past two decades, it's that resurrection rarely ends well.
The Lazarus Complex
British telly suffers from what we might call the Lazarus Complex—an irresistible urge to bring back the dead, regardless of whether they want to stay that way. It's a peculiarly British affliction, perhaps born from our natural conservatism and deep-seated fear of change. Why risk commissioning something new when you can simply dust off Are You Being Served? for the umpteenth time?
The psychology is understandable. In an era where streaming platforms churn out content faster than a Greggs sausage roll production line, commissioners are terrified of backing a dud. A beloved brand feels like insurance—built-in audiences, guaranteed press coverage, and the comforting illusion that lightning might strike twice in the same place.
But here's the rub: it almost never does.
The Hall of Shame
Let's take a stroll through the graveyard, shall we? Red Dwarf limped back in 2009, twelve years after its original run ended, and whilst die-hard fans defended it with the passion of football supporters, even they'd admit those later series felt like watching your dad attempt street dance. The magic was gone, replaced by the sort of forced chemistry you get when your school reunion committee tries to recreate that legendary night out from 1995.
Doctor Who's 2005 revival is often held up as the exception that proves the rule, but even that golden child has suffered from regeneration fatigue. The show's recent struggles suggest that sometimes, even successful comebacks have a shelf life. When your reboot needs its own reboot, perhaps it's time to admit defeat.
Then there's Absolutely Fabulous, which managed to overstay its welcome so thoroughly that by the end, watching Edina and Patsy's antics felt less like comedy and more like elder abuse. The 2016 film was the final nail in a coffin that should have been sealed years earlier.
The Nostalgia Trap
The problem isn't just that these shows return—it's that they return to a world that's moved on without them. Comedy, in particular, ages about as well as milk left in a hot car. What felt cutting-edge in the 1970s can seem quaint or, worse, problematic by today's standards. Attempts to modernise often feel forced, like watching your grandfather try to use TikTok.
Moreover, nostalgia is a liar. It airbrushes the mediocre episodes, the dodgy special effects, and the moments when even the original series jumped the shark. We remember the highlights reel, not the full picture. When the revival inevitably fails to match our rose-tinted memories, disappointment is guaranteed.
The American Exception
Interestingly, American television seems to handle revivals with more success. Shows like Arrested Development and Gilmore Girls managed to return with their dignity largely intact, whilst Twin Peaks: The Return was arguably better than the original. Perhaps it's because American television is more comfortable with reinvention, or maybe they're just better at knowing when to quit.
British television, by contrast, seems addicted to flogging dead horses. We're like that mate who insists on telling the same funny story at every party, not realising that the punchline lost its impact somewhere around the fifteenth retelling.
The Cost of Looking Backwards
But the real tragedy isn't just the damage done to beloved shows—it's the opportunity cost. Every pound spent on resurrecting Fawlty Towers is a pound not spent on discovering the next Fleabag or The Office. When commissioners are busy playing grave robber, they're not taking risks on fresh voices and new ideas.
British television's golden age wasn't built on revivals—it was built on bold commissioning decisions and willingness to try something different. Monty Python, The Office, Sherlock, Black Mirror—none of these shows would have existed if commissioners had been content to endlessly recycle the past.
Learning to Let Go
Perhaps it's time for British television to learn the art of letting go. Not every great show needs a sequel, prequel, or reboot. Some stories are complete as they are, perfect in their original form, like a perfectly preserved fossil that crumbles the moment you try to move it.
The best revivals work when they have something new to say, not when they're simply trying to recapture past glories. Sherlock succeeded because it reimagined Conan Doyle's detective for the modern world, rather than simply dusting off the Victorian original.
The Verdict
So here's a radical suggestion: instead of asking "Can we bring this back?", perhaps commissioners should ask "Should we?" Because sometimes, the kindest thing you can do to a beloved show is let it rest in peace, secure in its legacy and untainted by the desperate scramble for relevance.
After all, there's a reason they say you should never meet your heroes. The same principle applies to television revivals—sometimes, it's better to keep the magic alive in your memory than to watch it die slowly on your screen.
