10 Best TV Show Revivals Of All Time, Ranked – TVLine

Does absence truly make the heart grow fonder? In the case of TV shows, it may depend on what their long-awaited returns actually have to offer.

We live in the era of the legacy sequel, partly because actors just don’t get long-term TV contracts like they did when networks were king. Streaming platforms need a hook to get your attention, and familiar stars returning to beloved roles often does the trick. Networks, in turn, have tried to compete using the same strategy. Television revivals have been around a while, but we seem to be getting far more of them lately.

Here’s the rub — revivals can’t feel too similar to the originals, but they also can’t drift too far off-base. The “Frasier” revival lasted a mere 20 episodes, possibly because just seeing Frasier doing Frasier stuff again wasn’t enough. On the other hand, “Golden Palace” was a step too far for many “Golden Girls” fans, who preferred seeing the ladies gossip over cheesecake rather than run a hotel.

The best TV revivals — not remakes or reboots, but actual continuations — progress the story, but keep the characters familiar. What happens to our favorites as time marches on? If they got over their old issues, what new ones can surprise them? Our picks for the 10 best TV revivals of all time genuinely propelled their stories forward while still offering the comfort of familiar characters and situations audiences trusted.

The original 1976 “Open All Hours” was a vehicle for comedian Ronnie Barker, then 47, and best known for the variety show “The Two Ronnies” and the prison comedy “Porridge.” He played Albert Arkwright, a stuttering, penny-pinching proprietor of a corner shop who often butted heads with his young nephew and employee, Granville (David Jason), who would rather socialize. In reality, Jason was only 11 years younger than Barker.

Following a real-life gap of nearly 30 years, “Still Open All Hours” debuted in 2014 and saw a 74-year-old Granville, still played by Jason, turn into exactly the kind of old miser his uncle once was. He now found himself frustrated by his son Leroy (James Baxter) and the ghost of his uncle apparently haunting the cash register. Not only has time passed Granville by, but it has also made the notion of the old corner shop nearly obsolete, forcing him to resort to even more merchandise-moving scams.

So many sitcoms, including the original “Open All Hours,” are about the generation gap that it’s a unique twist to have a young protagonist evolve in real time into the father figure he resented, and in a near-obsolete profession to boot. It proved so popular that the revived series lasted two seasons longer than the original. Like its protagonist, however, “Still Open All Hours” became a victim of the times, as the COVID-19 pandemic and resulting lockdowns in 2020 thwarted a potential seventh season, and filming never resumed.

 “King of the Hill,” while animated, took a realistic-feeling look at a moderately conservative family in the fictional Arlen, Texas, and the various wacky characters in their lives. From the temperamental Laotian neighbors, the Kahns, to conspiratorial exterminator Dale and sad-sack Bill, everyone felt like an authentic Southern eccentric. Like so many animated shows, “King of the Hill” stayed mostly frozen in time. When the show came back on Hulu in 2025 following a 16-year hiatus, however, it leaned into time passing, aging the characters up as few cartoons do.

To keep family patriarch Hank Hill relatively and endearingly clueless, he and his wife, Peg, were depicted as having recently returned from a lengthy work stay in Saudi Arabia. Though Hank had to deal with new concepts like chosen pronouns and cultural appropriation, the revival never went for cheap jokes. Son Bobby, once an awkward dork, was now a chef skilled in Japanese-style barbecue. Conspiratorial Dale found himself competing with MAGA types for the wildest ideas, while Bill hadn’t left his house in a decade or so. 

The world had changed, but they stayed just familiar enough. Keeping Hank and Peggy out of the country for years nicely sidesteps politics while still keeping them old-fashioned parents. Many animated shows stay stuck in an eternal present to avoid changing things too much, but “King of the Hill” showed how embracing a new era’s problems allows old favorite characters to have entirely new experiences — and face them with relatively more maturity.

With its blue-collar setting and often downbeat storylines, “Roseanne” stood out from other ’80s and ’90s sitcoms by feeling real. Roseanne Barr was a successful comedian and John Goodman was an in-demand actor, but on their sitcom, they seemed like ordinary people in many ways.

The show originally ended in 1997, but after Donald Trump won the presidency amid a mood of economic uncertainty, the time seemed right to bring it back. Real-life Trump supporter Roseanne could channel those views into her character and spar even more with her liberal sister Jackie (Laurie Metcalf). The first season of nine episodes paid off and made the show feel timely again, retconning the widely disliked Season 9, in which the family got rich and lost the plot.

The relaunch, however, ignored the reality of who Roseanne had become in real life: a conspiracy-minded figure who frequently posted bigoted remarks on social media. The network fired Roseanne herself, her sitcom character was swiftly killed off, and the relaunched “Roseanne” became “The Conners.” No longer a lighter-hearted look at the cultural divide, the series now had a major loss at its center — one that became much more relatable once COVID-19 hit. The fact that the characters could carry on with any humor whatsoever felt relatable in a whole new way.

Still working-class and now more tragic, the family kept going. Divorce, alcoholism, big pharma, downsizing, and nonbinary kids drew everyone together and apart. “The Conners” lasted seven seasons, as its no-gloss look at real struggles (with laughs) caught on anew.

The original “Night Court” brought a refreshingly weird sensibility to prime time, spoofing legal dramas by focusing on petty crimes committed by strange and unusual characters during the night shift. Sadly, most of the cast passed away relatively early in their senior years. Harry Anderson, Charles Robinson, Markie Post, Selma Diamond, and Richard Moll are gone, though as of this writing, recurring guest star John Astin remains alive at age 96.

A longtime fan of the original series, actress Melissa Rauch spearheaded the reboot while also starring as Judge Abby Stone, the daughter of Anderson’s character Harry Stone. John Larroquette, the primary surviving star of the original, agreed to return as womanizer Dan Fielding, now a public defender. Marsha Warfield, the other major returning star, appeared in a small story arc as her old character Roz.

Though Dan was older, wiser, and more humbled, his trademark sarcasm remained, sharpened by Abby’s incessantly and naively bubbly optimism. New supporting characters, including India de Beaufort as disinterested DA Olivia, Lacretta as a childlike bailiff Gurgs, and Wendie Malick as Dan’s evil ex, Julianne, created a similar dynamic to the original, with familiar-looking sets bringing back the vibe of a government building in which almost anything can happen after dark. By necessity, the series couldn’t rely too much on nostalgia, but Larroquette helped maintain the old tone, which was now novel again — and welcome — in a world not used to sitcoms as surreal as “Night Court.”

“The Twilight Zone” has had more than one revival, but while the most recent attempt — Jordan Peele’s “The Twilight Zone” — felt very much like a personality-driven reboot, the 1985 iteration simply felt like more. More of the same twisty, creepy stories viewers loved, from acclaimed writers like Harlan Ellison, Rockne S. O’Bannon, George R.R. Martin, and J. Michael Straczynski, as well as stars both familiar and up-and-coming, from Danny Kaye and Norma Lloyd to Bruce Willis and Fred Savage. The Grateful Dead re-did the classic theme, and the hour-long format allowed for multiple stories of different lengths within the time slot (usually two or three).

While some episodes had voice-over, nobody replaced the late Rod Serling as host. Who could have? The ’80s were a new golden era for horror, and audiences didn’t need a reassuring face to hold their hand through the new nightmares and dreams.

Not every story set out to terrify or punish. Some were wistful and sad, like Shelly Duvall receiving the alien equivalent of a message in a bottle. At times, they could be ridiculous, as when leprechauns turned out to be aliens. “The Twilight Zone” always handled ironic punishments best, though, like a whiz kid being executed for scoring too high on an intelligence test. The 1985 revival never felt like it was trying too hard, though — it was just more stories, with similar twists, that stayed contemporary rather than just remaking old episodes, as the 1983 movie had.

Netflix’s “Masters of the Universe: Revelation” and “Revolution” served as very belated sequels to the original ’80s Filmation series. Because the He-Man media rights had been divided, the revival had to ignore “She-Ra: Princess of Power,” even though He-Man crossed over into his sister’s superior spinoff.

Keeping the essential mythology intact while jettisoning some of the kiddie humor, the Kevin Smith-produced revival aimed at both longtime fans and newcomers. Prince Adam still wielded his sword and said “By the power of Grayskull!” to become He-Man, but in this show, episodes were no longer predictably formulaic and took big leaps. Moving the story significantly forward, He-Man died early in the series! There was a time jump, Teela took over as lead for a time, and sure enough, eventually He-Man fought his way back from the land of the dead. Meanwhile, Teela briefly seemed more interested in her friend Andra than in any muscular sword-wielder.

Both Skeletor and Evil-Lyn wielded the power of Grayskull at different times, answering years of “what if” fan questions. Orko died and came back like Gandalf, all in white. King Randor also died, and He-Man’s identity was exposed. Teela became the new Sorceress, and He-Man renounced his throne to move in with her. These were big steps to shake up the status quo in what had once been a glorified toy commercial. Viewers also got both William Shatner and Mark Hamill voicing Skeletor’s dueling personalities. That’ll never be topped.

Early episodes of MTV’s “Beavis and Butt-Head” featured rough-looking hand-drawn animation, with creator Mike Judge providing nearly every voice. The two lunkheaded protagonists were actively malicious and enjoyed causing harm and arson. MTV subsequently overcorrected, making them too safe, while licensing issues kept many of the boys’ music video commentaries off DVD.

In 2011, Judge returned to the show with more creative control, contracts that would account for video and music rights, and a more sustained tone. Beavis and Butt-Head weren’t sadists this time, nor were they so defanged that they couldn’t say “fire” — they just regularly became victims of their own stupidity, completely oblivious to their role in it. The only people they harmed were adults distracted or naive enough to actually trust them, ignoring their obvious idiocy.

The animation was a little slicker, but the formula that worked stayed the same: Two morons, usually inspired by what they saw on TV, set out to do “stuff that’s cool,” inevitably failing and learning nothing. The modern world introduced them to changes like military drones and the “Twilight” saga, but their blank stares and nervous laughter remained constant. This is one revival that excelled y staying as close to the original as possible.

There was one big change: the duo’s interstitial commentaries expanded, and for the better. Besides music, they’d now hilariously comment on MTV shows like “Jersey Shore” and “Teen Mom,” along with viral videos. The show returned again in 2022 and is still with us.

Netflix’s Marvel television shows operated in a weird gray area within the Marvel Cinematic Universe. At first, they seemed to be canon, and then they weren’t. One thing was for sure, though — they tried to avoid looking like a comic book wherever possible. Only Daredevil wore a mask and had superpowers — namely, the enhanced senses of a blind man exposed to chemicals and trained as a ninja. Though the show, created by Drew Goddard, was pointedly more violent than Marvel movies, it was also slower-paced and laden with flashbacks. 

When Disney+ relaunched the series, it actually remembered to be fun. Kingpin, played by the excellent Vincent D’Onofrio, was now exaggeratedly huge and strong but remained intense and compelling. Daredevil, still likeably portrayed by Charlie Cox, got a fight scene in costume every episode, making full use of his billy club/grappling hook. They still had to be violent, but “Born Again” didn’t inherently act like R-rated content had to be super-serious at all times.

“Born Again” also embraced comic-book costumes, introducing characters like Muse and White Tiger, and giving Bullseye his own unique suit. When the series featured a side quest — like Daredevil foiling a bank robbery — it felt like an actual comic one-shot rather than meandering filler designed to stretch the season to 13 episodes. If the show needed a flashback episode, it made sure the memories included fights. By the end of the first two seasons, the Marvel status quo felt massively changed…but the Marvel spirit was back.

Beginning in 1963, “Doctor Who” is the longest-running science-fiction series ever, but it almost didn’t make it past 1989. Despite a foolproof conceit that could keep the story going forever — namely that the titular Doctor could regenerate into a new actor every few years — management at the BBC had soured on the show. While Sylvester McCoy had the lead role as the Time Lord who travels the universe in a vintage police call box with infinite interiors, the plug was abruptly pulled.

A 1996 television movie aimed at American audiences failed to satisfy fans. Only in 2005 did the BBC back a revival, which seemed like a reboot but ultimately revealed that it was a continuation, thereby keeping the older fans while making many new ones.

Christopher Eccleston came aboard as a handsomer, hipper Doctor, with Billie Piper playing Rose Tyler, the human companion he rescues during an alien invasion. With special effects having evolved beyond cheesy bubble-wrapped aliens, and more of a possible romantic spark between Doctor and companion, the revival caught on. Eccleston left after one season, but successors David Tennant and Matt Smith gave the show a more youthful, purely entertaining energy. The original series, led by 55-year-old William Hartnell, was meant to educate children, while the revival learned to compete with “Star Wars” and Marvel. Eccleston’s season now stands as a great jumping-on point, explaining all you absolutely have to know, but leaving the rest for diehards to discover.

It’s astonishing that a director as weird and extreme in subject matter as David Lynch was once given a prime-time series on ABC, but in 1990, that happened. “Twin Peaks” was a soapy murder mystery with surreal and horrific elements that struggled to find new directions once the central murder was solved and an interdimensional demon was revealed to be responsible. A line of dialogue promised, “I’ll see you again in 25 years.” Somehow, it came true.

By 2017, the streaming wars had every premium cable network looking for A-list content. Showtime then gave David Lynch, now even more acclaimed and eccentric as a filmmaker, 18 uncensored episodes to do whatever he wanted with a revived “Twin Peaks.” The result may be his masterpiece.

Defying audience expectations, Kyle MacLachlan returned as Agent Cooper, the brain-damaged Dougie, and the evil Mr. C. The late David Bowie was replaced with a giant teapot. The mysterious Diane was revealed as Laura Dern. Lynch himself appeared and addressed trans rights directly. The killer Bob’s origins traced back to the Hiroshima bomb ripping open dimensions. There was time travel and Michael Cera impersonating Marlon Brando. 

The third — and now final — season of “Twin Peaks” brought everything full circle, erasing its initial murder from existence — and then kept going for another hour, raising entirely new mysteries. It was amazingly weird and pure, undiluted Lynch. Many Season 3 questions remained, and we’d have it no other way.