The Vault Is Open and the Networks Are Feral: Ranking Every Aussie TV Reboot by How Much We'll Hate It

There is an original idea in Australian television somewhere. It's buried deep, probably under the fourth season of a dating show where singles get engaged before seeing each other's faces. But the networks have decided digging is easier than thinking, and so the great reboot gold rush is officially on.

Some of this is genuinely exciting. Some of it is a hate-watch event of national significance waiting to be scheduled. Let's sort the treasure from the landfill.

The Reboots We'll Actually Watch (Reluctantly, With Love)

The classic Aussie soaps — Look, the return of beloved long-running serials in some format was inevitable. The trick is casting: bring back one or two legacy faces, let a genuinely fresh ensemble carry it, and resist the urge to have every character dramatically announce what happened in 1993. Done right, this is comfort food. Done wrong, it's a school reunion nobody wanted.

90s panel and variety formats — The chaotic, unscripted energy of old-school Aussie panel shows is basically a TikTok format waiting to happen. If a network hands this to actual comedians and lets it be loose, weird and slightly dangerous, it could be the best thing on telly. If they give it to a host whose last viral moment was a radio scandal, God help us.

The game show canon — Some formats are simply immortal. A well-produced revival of a beloved quiz or game show, hosted by a national treasure with genuine comic timing, is as reliable as a Bunnings sausage. Low risk, high comfort, universally accepted.

The Hate-Watch Events of National Significance

The lifestyle/renovation format revivals — Bring back the original reality renovation juggernaut with a fresh coat of paint and a new crop of couples who "met at a virtual open home," and Australia will watch every single episode while posting screenshots and writing think-pieces. We will not enjoy it. We will not miss an episode. This is the contract.

The dating show archaeology — Any revival of an early-2000s dating format will be watched through fingers. The original was unhinged in a way that simply cannot be recreated under modern duty-of-care protocols — which means the reboot will either be sanitized into beige or lean so hard into chaos it becomes performance art. Either way, group chats will be destroyed.

The talent competition revival — A beloved singing or talent format returning with a new panel of judges who "get each other" and "have real chemistry" (they met four days ago). We'll watch the auditions, meme the montages, and abandon ship by finals week. Traditional.

The Untouchables: Do NOT Touch These

Some shows belong to the archive like a fossil belongs in a museum. Reviving them would be grave robbing with a primetime slot.

The perfectly ended comedy — Any sitcom that bowed out gracefully with a beloved finale should be legally protected. A revival can only diminish it. There is no upside. There is no scenario. Leave it.

The gritty drama that defined an era — Some shows worked because of a specific moment, a specific cast, and a specific level of risk that networks no longer allow. A glossy 2025 remake with better cameras and worse courage will feel like seeing your childhood hero at a shopping centre.

Anything whose star has explicitly said no — If the person who made the show magic has said "absolutely not," that's not a negotiation. That's the answer.

The Dream List: Please, Take Our Money

• A chaotic revival of an old-school Aussie variety show, hosted by someone with nothing left to lose
• A deadpan mockumentary format from the 2000s given one more season by a streaming service that actually lets the writers cook
• A nostalgia game show revival with celebrity contestants who are genuinely terrible at it
• Literally anything that brings back the tradition of Australian TV being weird, local, and proud of it

Final Verdict

The reboot era is a symptom, not a villain — networks are scared, budgets are tight, and nostalgia is the only currency that reliably converts. But here's the thing about Australian audiences: we'll complain about every single reboot, watch every single episode, and then get genuinely emotional when a familiar theme song plays.

We contain multitudes. Pass the snacks.