The Pleasant Optimism of "That '90s Show"

Though it may not be quite as good as its predecessor, there's still much to love about the newest rebooted sitcom.

I’ll be the first to admit that I was a little on the fence when it came to That ‘90s Show, the much-ballyhooed sequel series to That ‘70s Show. The latter was a key part of my adolescence and college years, and it remains, in my opinion, one of the better sitcoms to have emerged out of that strange time known as the early late 20th and early 21st centuries. How could a new show possibly hope to recapture the magic, I wondered, particularly in this era of subpar reboots (yes, I’m looking at you, Night Court).

Plotwise, the series is pretty simple. Leia, the daughter of Eric and Donna, comes to stay with her grandparents during the summer, and she meets a number of neighborhood teens with whom she immediately forms a friendship. Gangly and awkward, just like her father, she is nevertheless very charming, and the friendship group she finds quickly gels. She finds herself particularly drawn to Jay Kelso, the son (of course) of Jackie and Michael. Though he has all of his parents’ good looks, he’s thankfully not nearly as shallow, and he displays an emotional maturity that Jackie and Michael rarely displayed (at least not in the early seasons of That ‘70s Show).

At first, it seemed as if my worst fears about this show were going to be confirmed. While it was a genuine joy to see the members of the original cast return for the first episode–even if, as was the case with Mila Kunis and Ashton Kutcher, it was just for a few moments–their successors left much to be desired. It’s not that they’re bad, necessarily, it’s just that for the most part they’re young and untried and, not to be too curmudgeonly about it, they sometimes seem to lack that certain star quality that was already so obvious with the original cast (though maybe I’m just old). 

This is all the more glaring any time that the original cast makes an appearance. Despite the fact that the original series has been off the air for over a decade and a half, and despite the fact that the original cast has moved on to bigger and better things, Topher Grace will always be Eric Forman, Laura Prepon will always be Donna Pinciotti, and Wilmer Valderrama will always be Fez. They continue to exert the same irresistible charm they did in That ‘70s Show, and they almost invariably cast their younger co-stars into the shade.

More complementary are Debra Jo Rupp and Kurtwood Smith as Kitty and Red Forman, who are the only members of the original cast to return full-time. In addition to providing some much-needed continuity, Rupp and Smith are, quite simply, some of the best sitcom actors out there. They slide so effortlessly into their roles that it feels like we never left them (there’s such obvious chemistry between Rupp and Smith that it often feels like we’re actually watching a loving couple grow old  together). While Kitty eagerly welcomes the chance to have teens in the house again, Red is as curmudgeonly as ever, though he’s a bit more forgiving of his granddaughter than he ever was to his father. They are joined by Sherri Runck (played by Andrea Anders), their next-door-neighbor who seems to adopt them as her own parents (even though she is the mother of two of the teenagers). Their dynamic is a constant highlight.

As the season goes on, these young folks find their footing, and the series of which they are a part manages to do so as well. Despite myself, I found myself starting to both laugh more and to care about these characters and their exploits. Wisely, That ‘90s Show has chosen to only incidentally include the original cast members, and this gives the new cast a chance to grow into their characters, and they all have to contend with the angst of teen life, whether that’s absent fathers, high school relationships and their afterlives, or mothers (and grandmothers) trying to meddle in their lives. 

Of particular note is Reyn Doi’s Ozzie, the series’ openly gay character. Doi is, I think, this series’ breakout star, and he imbues Ozzie with all of the snark and vulnerability one would expect of a gay teen of Asian descent growing up in small-town Wisconsin in the 1990s. I’ve no doubt that I am drawn to this character because I see myself in him, but I do think he is one of the standouts. The episode in which he embarks on his coming-out journey is filled with both genuine sweetness and laughter, and it is fitting that Kitty welcomes him with open arms. 

Like its predecessor, That ‘90s Show isn’t really particularly interested in the time period in which it’s set. Yes, the clothes look vaguely ‘90s-ish, and there are periodic references to the music and movies and other cultural paraphernalia of the period, but overall these characters look and act very much like the teens of the present (most notably in the use of the word “bro” by two of its main characters, a term which, unless I’m mistaken, wasn’t nearly as ubiquitous in the 1990s as it has since become). If there is one thing that the series does capture about that decade, though, it’s the untrammeled optimism. Yes, the ‘90s were in some ways one of the most cynical periods–Gen X was coming of age during this time, after all–but it was also, for some younger teens, one of the last times when it seemed as if the future really would be better than the past. 

While I’m not sure that That ‘90s Show will become a part of the sitcom canon in the same way as its parent series, there’s still enough here to enjoy, both for fans of the original and for newcomers. Clearly, they must have done something right, as Netflix has already renewed it for a second season (given how prone Netflix is to canceling even the most promising of series, this is no mean feat). If nothing else, it shows, contrary to what some might say, that there might still be room for a three-camera sitcom in the streaming era. 

Onward to season two!