That ‘90s Show: hitting the nostalgic sweet spot

Welcome to the new era of TV, where getting cancelled by the audience is more terrifying than actually getting canned by the network.

Debra Jo Rupp as Kitty Forman and Callie Haverda as Leia Forman That ‘90s Show.

That ’70s Show has been rebooted for 2023 as That ’90s Show. It’s been a highly anticipated project that now follows the life and times of Eric and Donna’s daughter, Leia, who goes to stay with her grandparents – Kitty and Red – in sleepy Point Place for the school holidays.

It’s a twee and tween renaissance that is fun and fun-sized viewing if only for the 1990s references – Alanis Morissette being blasted out of the Walkman, the mention of waiting for the next episode of Party of Five and visits to the local video store.

The series is just as funny as the original with Leia (played by Callie Haverda) navigating friendship, family and her first love. But the real highlight is seeing Kitty (Debra Jo Rupp) and Red (Kurtwood Smith) evolve into their grandparent era with main character energy. Both were funny in the original series but are laugh out loud hilarious in the sequel.

Also, the cameos are some of the best seen in modern TV. It’s a nostalgic sweet spot as the stars of the past are still sparkling. They were the San Pellegrino of TV in the noughties and still have some of their fizz. Ashton Kutcher and Mila Kunis met on set and later married. The pair reprise their roles as the beautiful but brain-dead Kelso and rambunctious Jackie in the first episode where they talk of getting “remarried” a second time.

While the show is chuckle-inducing, it appears – on a broader level – to be grappling with trying to reflect the ’90s (1995 specifically) for an audience with 2023 expectations. The cast is diverse and the issues that would have been punch lines in 1995 are decidedly more progressive in That ’90s Show.

It is not a remake of That ’70s Show, but rather the ’90s sanitised. Welcome to the era where getting cancelled by the audience is more terrifying than getting legitimately canned by the network.

Speaking of network darlings, TV executives saw a good thing with Squid Game and have now turned it into a reality show. The result will either encourage people to head back to the gym or (correctly) think this latest offering from Korea is just like Love Island with the same IQ, just less BMI.

Oh and no one actually dies. There is talk of it but it’s mainly just hyperbolic when people are told to hang from a rail for more than 13 minutes before dropping into murky water of an unknown depth.

It’s ironic that a show with the premise of “finding the world’s most perfect body” regardless of age, gender or race moves as slowly as the tortoise in that famous allegory involving a jacked-up hare. Alas, here we are. Episodes are being drip-fed two at a time with the pilot introducing us to a raft of Korean celebrities who are big in the online world, the athletic world and the communities they have built around them. They are also physically big and there are numerous mentions of biceps being bigger than some people’s faces. Thighs are ogled for their definition not their gaps.

Physical: 100 is the first Korean reality survival series to make it to mainstream streaming services like Netflix. The production is fantastic as it allows the contestants and the interpersonal interactions to shine. Who needs flashing lights and people screaming “I’ve got a text”, when you can have You­Tubers who flog activewear online sizing up Olympic-level gymnasts and even one bloke who is just known for being a “car dealer”.

The show is moreish – even if your only form of cardio is shopping. The series pits the fittest people in Korea against each other in a series of “quests” in order to show off their physical prowess and dexterity. Or lack thereof.

The prize is two-fold. The last person standing takes home the equivalent of about $350,000 but with this cast you get the sense bragging rights are worth more.

The show opens with contestants entering a colosseum filled with plaster moulds of their torsos and their height and weight etched into a plaque. For those not familiar with the worlds of body building, professional sports or online wannabes, it’s the stuff of nightmares pulled from the pages of women’s magazines in the 1990s.

While gender is not a factor in the competition according to the rules, the way the female and male athletes react to themselves and to each other suggests that Westernised body standards are the benchmark — blokes need to be buff and jacked, whereas women want to be aesthetically pleasing.

“Is there anybody prettier than me?” one female bodybuilding and Crossfit champion asks. When a popular cheerleader appears a gaggle of guys whisper: “Oh wow. Cheerleaders have great physicality and movement.”

Better than being catcalled.

Physical: 100 is an interesting journey if only just to witness how the worlds of fitness, reality TV and extreme physical activity overlap in a world that isn’t just watching former footy players run through makeshift obstacle courses.

The cast is inspired. All are supreme physical specimens including a drill sergeant from the Korean military’s elite underwater demolition team, Olympic gold medallists in gymnastics, bobsledding and skeleton, a travel blogger called “Tarzan”, Korea’s first “bone-breaking” champion, YouTubers with more than 10m fans, an actress, boxers and wrestlers.

However, they all lose their minds when MMA fighter Choo Sung-hoon enters with the swagger of Conor McGregor, promising to show the “teens” that age is not a factor. The 47-year-old has been training in Judo since he was three.

An 18-year-old student then rolls in wearing his school uniform; underneath he’s the national Judo champion.

Grab the air-popped popcorn, Physical: 100 is as soothing as Tiger Balm on aching joints. Cancel the gym, you’ll get abs just from the unintentional laughs.

“My self-esteem is already 100, I just want to prove my body is too.”

That ‘90s Show is streaming now on Netflix.
Physical: 100 is streaming now on Netflix.