May the force be with you! How to save every tired TV superfranchise, from Star Wars to Game of Thrones

The Guardian

25-04-2025

It's amazing to think that, not so very long ago, people were actually excited at the prospect of a new Star Wars show. Or when it emerged that a fresh Lord of the Rings saga was, through some kind of Gandalfian wizardry, being squeezed on to the small screen, the reaction was one of giddy awe. Even the faintest whisper of another trip to Hogwarts would have set the whole internet ablaze. And now? Well, here's a test: there's a new Harry Potter series coming out soon. How does that make you feel? Exactly.
There's no doubt about it – a worrying number of what used to be the world's most untouchable franchises are in trouble. But how did they arrive at this point of terminal audience ennui? And is there any route for them back into our hearts?
The problem: even more Potter? You cannot be Sirius
Since HBO announced its new, apparently very exciting and definitely necessary adaptation of JK Rowling's books, starring John Lithgow as Dumbledore, Paapa Essiedu as Snape and Nick Frost as Hagrid, reaction has been more muted than they were perhaps hoping. Despite that excellent cast, and even putting aside the author's own personal journey from Hufflepuff to Slytherin, it isn't hard to see why. Since the film series ended in 2011, we've had three Fantastic Beasts movies, a perennial stage play, more video games than you can waggle a Horcrux at and, for reasons no one adequately explained, a baking show. The boy who lived is still everywhere – there's probably one of the films on ITV2 right now, go and check. See? Told you. If there is to be a tipping point that sends the already wobbly house of cards toppling over for good, a pointless TV reboot feels as though it could be it.
The solution: a transmogrify spell!
To justify its own existence, Potter the series needs to be recklessly brave, utterly unrecognisable from what came before – a departure of such magnitude that the movies are thereafter considered a quaint trial run from a more innocent age. Imagine a full-blown supernatural horror, blood and guts and swearing and all, set in the scariest haunted house imaginable: a creepy old school in which Dick Solomon from 3rd Rock from the Sun has a distressingly large beard. Every episode should be directed by a different horror auteur – Mike Flanagan, Coralie Fargeat, Osgood Perkins. Children may be traumatised; this could prove to be a costly failure. But imagine if it wasn't. Imagine it.
The problem: it finds your lack of faith disturbing
After Disney splashed $4.05bn (£2.5bn) on the brand in 2012, it was clear that it would need to milk that cash cow for every last drop. And lo, after five rushed-out movies came a slew of TV shows: The Mandalorian, The Book of Boba Fett, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Andor, Ahsoka, The Acolyte, Skeleton Crew – and those were just the live-action ones. If you were a card-carrying Star Wars nerd, this was fantastic. You had a deep understanding of what was going on in each show. But casual viewers – somehow expected to know and care that Rosario Dawson was Darth Vader's old apprentice in Ahsoka, for instance – were left baffled. Shockingly, catering exclusively to the diehards ended up putting a lot of people off. The Acolyte was swiftly cancelled amid an unedifying if sadly predictable flurry of racism and misogyny directed at its lead, Amandla Stenberg; then Skeleton Crew, despite essentially being Space Goonies with Jude Law as Sloth, debuted to even worse ratings than that. Beyond Andor's second and final season, which if it's even half as good as the first will still be essential viewing, everyone's got a very bad feeling about this.
The solution: go far, far away
Even Star Wars's biggest devotees must admit that the brand needs to be rested. And when it comes back, it cannot continue to demand that audiences have a PhD in advanced convention attendance to understand who everybody is, where they are, what they're doing and why. People have jobs, other interests, families. Disney needs to operate a strict policy of one show at a time, and pour every resource into it; a new, accessible, unmissable story. No more prequels. No more reliance on exclusionary, esoteric lore. Make something good and people will come: Band of Brothers in space; Natasha Lyonne as a wisecracking podracer; Breaking Bad but with strung-out Ewoks – it really isn't that hard.
The problem: it's as dull as Bilbo's butter knife
When the prequel to The Lord of the Rings, The Rings of Power, debuted in 2022, opinion was divided between 'spectacular, wow, just wow' and 'so dull it made all my children cry'. Both opinions were correct. None of this was helped by top-o'-the-morning accents that were somehow equally offensive to hobbits and the Irish, and the unavoidable influence of 'prequelitis', the tension-robbing knowledge of who lives and who dies – so really, who cares what happens? Last year's comparatively spry, action-packed second season, with nary a culturally insensitive harfoot in sight, was an improvement, but by then the damage was done: reports put the drop-off in viewership between the first and second seasons at an eye-watering 60%. At a cost of £50m an episode, this isn't a trend even Amazon can sustain for long. Something has to give.
The solution: reforge the Rings of Power
Plenty of shows, from The Office to Parks and Recreation, went on to thrive after a duff first season. They did, however, hit the ground running in season two in a way The Rings of Power didn't, making the hill it needs to climb that much steeper. What's required here is something more drastic: a soft reboot. Keep the cast, characters and broad narrative of The Rings of Power, but change the name to something cool – The War of the Rings? – and pitch the third season as a new(ish) tale that requires no prior knowledge. Thrust newcomers headlong into the battle between good and evil The Rings of Power has been languidly leading up to. Sauron's bad. Gandalf's good. People will pick that up. Treat The Rings of Power as an optional prequel, make this 'new' show propulsive and addictive, and boom: you've got the world's first $1bn sleeper hit on your hands.
The problem: my, how you've grownThe final season of the Duffer Brothers' adolescent-culling megasmash arrives this autumn, and every sentient being in the observable universe is going to watch it, so this is hardly a franchise on the ropes in terms of popularity. But its legacy? That is on far shakier ground. Each successive series has been bigger, more ambitious, more outlandish than the last, culminating in season four's crop of bumper-length episodes (the finale was a bum-numbing two-and-a-half hours). It was loud and exciting but bloated, confusing, not remotely scary, and so far removed from the focused Spielbergian chills of the first season that, side by side, they are completely different shows. For all its fireworks, and beyond the unexpected Kate Bush renaissance and the death of a certain Metallica-loving perm enthusiast, season four was a flabby, wayward mess. Season five has been described by star Maya Hawke as 'basically eight movies'. Oh dear.
The solution: flip everything back upside-downThe only way to guarantee the show bows out on a high is for it to return to where it all began: a back-to-basics horror story akin to season one – the tight, intimate spooks that got everyone hooked in the first place. If it is indeed 'eight movies', make them eight suburban horror tales, scarier and nastier than they have any real reason to be. Let us look back on Stranger Things as it was – the scrappy, retro creep-em-up that conquered the planet, not the overblown apocalyptic epic it swelled into. More importantly, and for the love of God, please give Barb the long-overdue justice she deserves.
The problem: no one has the faintest clue what's happening
Which multiverse is the correct one? Is it the one we're in right now? Or is this another dream/simulation? What phase even is it? Post-Endgame? Pre? Wait, who's that? Oh, it's wossname, that one there, your fella, with the shiny hat, Loki … no wait … is it? … Captain America …? … No, that's … is She-Hulk even canon, or is it like Deadpool? … tired … confused … everyone's so very, very confused …
The solution: a click of the fingers
Arbitrarily cancel 50% of all in-development Marvel shows. Then bring back the brilliant Jessica Jones, you cowards. Done. Next.
The problem: against cancellation, resistance is futile
Trek's faithful have faced some choppy, erm, space over the past eight years. They've had Star Trek: Discovery (good, then so-so, then cancelled), Strange New Worlds (good, then better, not yet cancelled), Lower Decks (great, cancelled), Prodigy (great, cancelled), Picard (so-so, cringe, excellent, a dignified exit) and the recent TV movie, Section 31 (like watching the smell of sick). In addition to the lone survivor, Strange New Worlds, there is the upcoming, Holly Hunter-starring Starfleet Academy (TBD). Based on what's gone before, you wouldn't bet on either of them lasting long.
The solution: to boldly go where Trek has been before – Netflix and Prime Video
Modern Trek shows are big, shiny, expensive things. Such endeavours clearly need to cast their net as widely as possible, and the relatively niche Paramount+ simply is not an environment in which they can do that. All those cancelled shows, even the animated Prodigy and Lower Decks, were scuttled because their audiences simply weren't solid enough to warrant their production costs. Discovery was more than £6m an episode. But Picard debuted on Prime Video. Discovery was on Netflix before ViacomCBS, now Paramount Global, bought back the rights in 2021. Prodigy is on Netflix right now. This isn't a massive stretch. In order for Trek to live long and prosper, Paramount has to suck it up, sign another co-production deal with one of these, and get Trek beamed back into as many living rooms as possible. Only then might it Klingon (so very, very sorry).
The problem: Westeros? More like Westerozzzzzz
No need for a spoiler alert regarding the events of season two of Thrones spin-off House of the Dragon, because there weren't any. A family, all of whom have identical hair and the same name, talk about having a war with another family, all of whom have identical hair and the same name. A dragon commits fratricide. Matt Smith has some dreams in a bed. That's it. The show has now spent 18 episodes apparently leading up to something thrilling, but if you were asked to name five gobsmacking moments, could you really say yes?
The solution: reclaim the water cooler
The original Thrones was essential appointment TV the likes of which we may never see again; something you couldn't wait to talk to someone – anyone, friend, stranger, foe, alarmed man at bus stop – about. The Red Wedding blew minds. Spoilers ended lifelong friendships. People held viewing parties for season finales, and named their kids after characters who went on to have sex with blood relatives, or become mass-murdering maniacs, or both. House of the Dragon is a decent fantasy drama, nothing more. It's too far gone to turn things round on its own. There's another spin-off due later this year – A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms – and it's this that bears the weight of the entire Thrones brand on its shoulders. If it can somehow rebottle the lightning that made the series a global smash – Betrayals! Twists! Deaths! Surprises! Things actually happening! – it could restoke the fire in the bellies of millions of lapsed Westeros obsessives. It is, however, based on a series of novellas called Tales of Dunk and Egg. Things aren't looking all that promising, to be honest.