To watch or not to watch, that is the question.
Unlike some of the other entries in this series, Full House has a genuine chance.
A small chance.
A slim chance.
A chance that exists primarily because of Michelle Tanner. And Jesse. More specifically, Michelle Tanner and Jesse.
Every clip I’ve seen of them feels like someone distilled childhood affection into television form. Jesse can spend an entire episode acting cool, rebellious, or mildly irresponsible, and then Michelle wanders into the scene and suddenly he’s putty in tiny sneakers.
It’s unfair.
The bond is too powerful.
The internet keeps serving me clips of Jesse carrying Michelle around, singing to her, protecting her, or being manipulated by her with alarming efficiency, and every single one works. Every. Single. Time.
The second attraction is the atmosphere. There are some shows that feel like they were designed to lower your blood pressure.
Full House appears to be one of them.
Nobody is plotting revenge.
Nobody is hiding a secret identity.
Nobody is threatening a hostile takeover.
Nobody is discovering a crucial document that changes the course of human history.
People are mostly raising children, making mistakes, apologising, learning lessons, and hugging each other before the credits roll. Frankly, after some modern television, that sounds almost revolutionary. And perhaps most importantly, I know what I’m getting. There will be no relentless profanity. No character who communicates exclusively through insults. No scene where someone says a word that makes me immediately reach for the remote. I can watch a Full House clip without feeling as though the writers were paid per F-bomb. That alone puts it ahead of several shows I’ve considered.
Of course, I know the series isn’t entirely innocent.
Even from the clips I’ve seen, it’s clear that it deals with grief, growing up, family struggles, peer pressure, insecurity, and other serious subjects. But it seems to approach those topics with warmth rather than cynicism. Which is increasingly rare.
So why haven’t I watched it?
The same reason I haven’t watched half the shows in this series.
Commitment.
Eight seasons.
One hundred and ninety-two episodes.
That isn’t a television show. That’s a lifestyle choice. That’s the sort of commitment usually associated with adopting a pet. Every time I consider starting it, I find myself doing the mental arithmetic. “Just one episode.”
Then suddenly it’s: “Congratulations, you’ve spent the next three months living with the Tanner family.”
And yet… This is the first entry where I can’t confidently say no.
Yellowstone was never happening.
The Mentalist raised too many questions.
Suits somehow became a show I watched without actually watching.
But Full House?
Full House has a chance.
A dangerous chance.
Because unlike the others, I don’t have a list of major objections. I have Michelle. I have Jesse. I have the promise of stories that don’t require blood, revenge, criminal conspiracies, or fourteen plot twists per episode. And if the show happens to be available on one of the streaming services I already pay for…
Well.
The Tanner family may yet claim another victim.
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Shabana Mukhtar