100 Favorite Shows: #100 — Full House
“Our arms are open. We have to hug; it’s a given.”
[Disclaimer: Ahead of the fourth season of Full House’ sequel series, Fuller House, creator Jeff Franklin was fired following allegations of sexual harassment and verbal abuse in the show’s writers’ room. Franklin was also reported to have had sexual relations with women he gave minor roles to on the series. This was reported by Variety.]
In a 1995 pull quote for the Los Angeles Times, Dennis Rinsler, a producer of Full House, described the series as “The Brady Bunch of the 1990s.” It’s an extremely accurate descriptor of the wholesome family sitcom, which never garnered critical acclaim, but has been beloved by millions since it debuted in 1987 on ABC. Full House ran for eight seasons and nearly two hundred episodes on ABC and it lives on in future generations via timeless syndication and a Netflix sequel series, Fuller House, which ran for five seasons. Created by Jeff Franklin, Full House was the story of the Tanner family, headed by Danny (Bob Saget), who struggles to raise his three girls, D.J. (Candace Cameron), Stephanie (Jodie Sweetin), and Michelle (Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen), after their mother dies. However, he’s aided by the girls’ Uncle Jesse (John Stamos), his best friend, Uncle Joey (Dave Coulier), and an ever-expanding number of residents who call that iconic San Francisco Victorian home — including us.
(This essay contains details about Full House, M*A*S*H, Better Call Saul, Fargo, and The Good Place. Potential spoilers for each lie ahead.)
The first live action exposure to television I can remember is a crumpled paper case for the DVD box set of Full House’s first season. Growing up, my sister and I were primarily exposed to cartoons on television, like SpongeBob SquarePants or The Fairly OddParents or puppet-based series like Bear in the Big Blue House or The Book of Pooh. Eventually, though, we happened to time an arrival home from school with a syndicated repeat of an episode of Full House, a series that aired largely before our time. Mesmerized by the bucolic home setting, the funny vocal impressions of Uncle Joey, a dog named Comet, and a slew of jokes any child could understand, we were instantly hooked.
The same is true, I believe, of most of my generation. Before we were permitted beyond the TeenNick barriers that contained series like The Amanda Show and Drake & Josh, we had to first work through the double-A television round that contained hokey, inoffensive sitcoms presented on either ABC Family or Nick at Nite. This is where we were introduced to George Lopez, The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, and The Nanny. Crucially, it’s also where we were introduced to Full House, which (as of Lopez concluding its run in September 2020), is the only one from our childhood still programmed on Nick at Nite.
Full House, for all of us, become a must-watch series after school and (if we were lucky to sneak in a quick episode) before bed. It’s filled with love, happiness, and nostalgia, but above all else, it’s a comfort series. Where can a person feel safer in the world of television than in the Tanner household? Where the kids nail every punchline. Where Uncle Jesse croons The Beach Boys, Elvis, and The Swinging Blue Jeans with his band, The Rippers. Where Uncle Joey makes wooden puns with a puppet. And where Danny sits us down to teach us lessons at the resolution of every installment, like Optimus Prime at the end of Universal Orlando’s Transformers ride.
Full House was a series with age-appropriate jokes that were occasionally too clever by half, but endlessly wholesome. Coupling these flashes of catchphrase-oriented humor with familial bonds wrapped in moral directives to unpack, Full House enrobed its prevailing sentiments in packages of dispersed life lessons with children who were beyond open-minded and receptive to them. Was it cutting edge television? Hardly ever. Was it deft at striking the tone and delivering the messages it intended to week in and week out? Unfailingly so.
Nothing about Full House was exceptionally groundbreaking, but it often took many of its cues from the lineage of popular sitcoms that came before it. The season six episode, “Silence Is Not Golden,” for example, is a hybrid of after-school “very special” episodes that centered around grave topics and dramatic turns for comedies, like M*A*S*H’s “Sometimes You Hear the Bullet.” “Silence Is Not Golden” presents the subject of child abuse through the character of Charles (J.D. Daniels), Stephanie’s frenemy in class. This alone would be enough for a harrowing Full House memory for children to internalize when the music gets serious, the jokes stop flowing, and they stare at the screen slack-jawed with Frosted Flakes turning to mush below them.
However, “Silence Is Not Golden” infuses the M*A*S*H element by presenting Stephanie with a moral quandry. When Charles confessed that his father hits him, he also made Stephanie promise not to tell anyone. Yet, she cannot help but feel conflicted throughout the installment because she knows what the right thing to do is; she’s just also young enough to feel stuck by the promise she made in being “sworn to secrecy.”
On M*A*S*H, Hawkeye promised to not reveal that Ron Howard’s character lied about his aged to be admitted into the Korean War. His promise broke, however, when Hawkeye realized the right thing to do was save the kid’s life, no matter the hatred the actions might cause. When Stephanie finally confesses her secret to Uncle Jesse (who stops his C-story with D.J.’s boyfriend, Steve (Scott Weinger), regarding a scheme about reading The Catcher in the Rye, to call child protective services), she’s doing the right thing, even if Charles hates her for it. (“What’s going to happen to Charles if we don’t?” Uncle Jesse asks Stephanie when explaining to her why they have to intervene, even if Charles’ family is permanently broken up as a result.)
The Stephanie-Charles story intersects with Michelle’s story, too. Michelle, along with her best friend, Denise (Jurnee Smollett), racked up a barrage of long-distance charges to the Tanner family phone and, as punishment, Danny enforced an earlier bed time for her. When Michelle raged to Stephanie about her displeasure with their father, Stephanie shot back, proclaiming that Michelle had no idea how lucky they were to have Danny for a father. The episode eventually ends with Stephanie giving Danny a hug, realizing how lucky she is to have a full house. (Aww.)
I still remember experiencing this episode for the first time. My five year old brain probably tried to conjure up some way to say, “What the fuck is happening?,” but was left, instead, to simply have my quaint Full House world completely rollicked. Not only was the topic of child abuse introduced to me (long before I heard Taylor Swift’s “Seven”), but I was also taught empathy for Charles, who I initially perceived to be an irredeemable bully. Through “Silence Is Not Golden,” Full House taught me that I can never truly know what a person is enduring — and sometimes, it’s a hell of a lot worse than Stephanie’s recurring anguish at being the middle child.
When I was five years old, “Silence Is Not Golden” understandably challenged me. Now, when other television series absolutely rocket through my brain (whether that’s Kim chewing out Lalo on Better Call Saul or a flying saucer arriving in Fargo or Michael cackling at the end of season one of The Good Place), it’s important to keep in mind that Full House is the structural television basis I’m working from. As a kid, television was hardly more than innocuous antics under the sea or wholesome lessons in a San Francisco home. Now, I understand what television can be. And while it’s much grander than anything Full House ever aspired to do, I still have a warm spot for how Full House shaped a big part of me growing up.
Just as D.J., Stephanie, and Michelle derived advice from their father figures, I found the words of moral wisdom sage and comforting, too. Neither Danny nor Uncle Jesse nor Uncle Joey could replace the role of their mother, but they were always helpful and always loving. The girls appreciated them all the same. Full House wasn’t a nuclear family, but it was truly a special one, especially for me and my generation.
By season six of Full House, the ensemble was fully formed. Steve (the coolest, to a five year old) joined Kimmy Gibbler (Andrea Barber) as a residential regular, Danny was fully committed to Vicky (Gail Edwards), Comet was mucking about, and Uncle Jesse and Aunt Becky (Lori Loughlin) were raising Nicky and Alex (Daniel and Kevin Renteria and Blake and Dylan Tuomy-Wilhoit) in the attic. Life was good on Full House, even if the whole lot of them wondered why they spent so much time with Kimmy Gibbler in the first place.
This question was absolutely raised in the classic, essential Full House episode, “The House Meets the Mouse.” (Most ABC family comedies make a trip to one of the Disney theme parks at some point.) On the one hand, the entire crew traveled to Orlando together and it was a delightful family vacation to accompany them on. On the other hand, they bring Kimmy with them, which is just asking for trouble. (Those crazy Full House occupants were always up to some trouble!)
Granted, “The House Meets the Mouse” essentially operates as some sort of in-between of a commercial for Walt Disney World and a vacation planning DVD. But still, I absolutely adore the episode because I unapologetically adore Walt Disney World. When I was a kid, this episode was the perfect cross-section of my interests. (My reverence for Full House may have diminished over the years, but my love of WDW is exactly the same as it was when I was five. That is, if it hasn’t increased. To be fair, Stamos loves it, too!)
The episode is not only a gem because the cherished family visits the timeless theme park, but it’s also inspired an entire meme culture from those of us who have grown up with an ironic sense of humor and an attachment to the childlike wonderment sources of our youths. For example, this Buzzfeed article points out exactly how impossible the day the Tanners plan at the Disney parks is.
And, to be fair, it’s true. Characters journey between the Grand Floridian, Epcot’s Coral Reef restaurant and Germany pavilion, some obscure backroom tea party at the Magic Kingdom, the Indiana Jones stunt show at MGM, the Grand Floridian again, the Seven Seas Lagoon dock (citation needed), and Cinderella Castle for the fireworks with reckless abandon. Most of their day would be spent on monorails and buses, but instead, they can travel from corner to corner of Walt Disney World without any respect for the space-time continuum. (Granted, Snow White turns up in Adventureland and Uncle Joey is also afraid of being eaten by a shark in plain view of myriad tourists, so maybe this is just for kids and we should let it go.)
Besides, there’s plenty of fun moments, too. Uncle Jesse sings ballads and pump-up songs, Uncle Joey animates himself with the guidance of legendary Disney animator Mark Henn, references to Scott Weinger’s role as Aladdin are made, and Michelle pulls the sword from the stone, spiraling Stephanie into jealousy. At the climax of the episode, Danny even proposes to Vicky! Yes, Disney World was a key feature of Full House’s vacation episode, but Full House always managed to put the characters first. Was it entirely implausible? Sure, but it was more enjoyable if you just gave yourself over to the experience and enjoyed the feeling that you were on vacation with this family.
Upon a rewatch, I also enjoyed soaking in the nostalgia of The Seas pavilion eschewing a hitherto nonexistent Nemo, Outdoor Vending carts were spread all across Fantasyland (with a skyway ride above), and Disney’s Animal Kingdom was not yet constructed. In this sense, “The House Meets the Mouse” aged well as a time capsule for more wholesome times gone by, especially (in this instance) for theme park nerds like me. There are still hokey children’s shows like Full House that exist in this world, but for me and my generation, they’ll never have the same sincerity that they did when we were kids. Full House is a time capsule of the innocence and wholesomeness we used to experience every day.
Today, the theme song (complete with characters getting caught doing something and then smiling at the camera), the structure of the episodes (like Michelle getting amnesia in the series finale), and the premise of the show in the first place (it’s just riddled with catchphrases, honestly) are all parodied as “bits” by those who evolved past the surface comedy of Full House. Sometimes, though, we just need Full House to be the comforting world it was when we were children and a place to retreat when the world seems darker than Danny Tanner initially promised us. A place where the biggest set piece could be three men singing “Teddy Bear” or a little girl moving her room and holding onto a detective-esque bear for comfort along the way or a lesson about what it means to “stall” someone. Full House was never the best show that television presented, but for the rest of my life, it will always be a favorite. Just like one of the iconic covers from Jesse and the Rippers, Full House will be a favorite forever. (Thank you, thank you very much.)
