As my loved ones, acquaintances, colleagues and strangers who’ve stood in line with me all know, I am not opposed to complaining. I am a complaining-friendly person, especially about small inconsequential things. If you complain, I’ll find something to contribute. I’ve used this very column mainly to whinge about things. But in a shocking twist, today I am here to complain about others complaining. Every time a show/movie/song people love is rebooted or covered, I must watch the complaints roll in. It always makes some people extremely upset, for reasons I usually can’t really understand, like watching a dog barking at a pile of clothes.
There are absolutely valid reasons not to like reboot culture. An avalanche of remakes has necessarily meant less original content is being made and, to be clear, I think that’s bad. I want originality, fresh perspectives, and I want those ideas encouraged and financed. But the complaints aren’t about media control issues, they are about people’s nostalgia and love for a piece of work making them think it is sacrosanct and shouldn’t be touched. They think a new take on it will somehow tarnish its legacy. Or sometimes they just don’t want a new version that acknowledges the existence of women and people who aren’t white.
This sort of thing has been going on for a long time but a couple of big examples recently have got me here complaining about the complainers. A few months ago, Mean Girls (an updated movie musical version) was released, to middling reviews. Even before it was released, it annoyed the internet. There was a feeling that it would somehow ruin the 2004 version, and shouldn’t be made. I love Mean Girls as much as the next lesbian who had a crush on both Regina George and Janice, but I was still interested to see what it would be like, so I watched it. Turns out, it’s not amazing. That’s OK! Who cares? It’s OK for a movie to be fine. When we left the cinema and went home, the 2004 Mean Girls movie still existed, and the government had not deleted it from the global cloud. Moreover, it made me think about and appreciate the original more.
When there is a new version of something I like, I am usually excited by the possibility, not mad at the attempt. I get to see something I enjoy reinterpreted, modernised, or just redone with better technology. The worst-case scenario is that you look at the new thing, you don’t like it, and you never have to engage with it again. Is it really that bad? Nobody is going to Clockwork Orange you into watching Ghostbusters with women once a year. But even in that case, when you hate the new thing, it gives you something positive. It allows you to remember why you feel so strongly about the thing you loved.
That’s the other benefit of remakes and covers and updates, it invariably means that the original gets a bump and a boost. Over Easter, Beyoncé released her album Cowboy Carter, which featured some legendary country artists and included an updated cover version of Dolly Parton’s Jolene. There have been mixed reactions to the cover and debate about the changed lyrics and vibe, but there is one thing that cannot be argued with – Beyoncé releasing a cover means a LOT more ears on the original too. After the release, Spotify streams for the original Jolene jumped by 11,610% !, which probably included a lot of young people who had never engaged with Dolly Parton before.
Beyoncé’s album also featured Linda Martell, whose 1970 LP was the first major country album released by a Black woman. Her Spotify saw an increase of nearly 127, 430% !!!. In 2023, country singer Luke Combs had a hit when he covered Tracy Chapman’s Fast Car, leading to a beautifully reverential duet with Chapman at the Grammys. After the performance, Chapman’s version hit number 1 on the iTunes charts, and she’s also earned a lot of money from it. Ideally yes, it wouldn’t take a white country man to bring attention back to Chapman, but the end result is that long after the song’s original success, many more people have engaged or re-engaged with her music, and she has a slew of new fans (lesbians).
Things have always been remade. Some of the things you love, and would be upset at seeing redone, were already remakes, and other people, like your dad, were probably upset about it. Al Pacino’s Scarface is a remake. Whitney Houston’s I Will Always Love You is a cover. Ocean’s Eleven (2001) is a remake. Would you deny the world incredible art like Natalie Imbruglia’s Torn?? For me, a new version of something does not dilute the original, it adds to it. I may hate the extremely popular slowed-down male cover of Robyn’s perfect Dancing on My Own, but I’m OK for it to exist, alongside the superior. It expands the work, the world, the fans, it adds more to the lore, it shows us something new and helps us look back at the old. If a piece of art you love is so fragile that someone else attempting their own spin somehow discredits it then maybe it should be remade. If anyone wants to remake this column, you have my blessing.
