Is 2026 really the new 2016? In the lead-up to 2026, social media users have traded in “new year, new me” for nostalgia, reminiscing on the authenticity and rawness that seemed to guide popular culture and social media with the aid of Instagram’s “Rio de Janeiro” filter, the infamous dog and flower crown filters, and the plethora of Musical.ly sounds. This was what the internet was like before the “clean girl” aesthetic and the pristine, aesthetically pleasing photo dumps came to save the day. This nostalgic reminiscing is especially intriguing because, not too long ago, 2016 was dubbed the worst year of the 2010s due to the array of socio-political tensions that were rising. One can only imagine that this longing for the past is a result of those tensions coming to a head in the 2020s. However, it seems that the general public is not the only one ushering the past into the present.
A number of the most anticipated film and television releases of the 2020s have been reboots or remakes of classic media from the past. The many live adaptations of Disney films, the upcoming Wuthering Heights, Scary Movie 6, The Devil Wears Prada 2 films, and the prequel of Legally Blonde are a drop in the ocean of the many nostalgic grabs currently steering the entertainment industry. But why does nostalgia sell?
Nostalgia is, by definition, the longing and yearning for the past. According to Psychology Today, it hinges on the belief that the past had more positive experiences than the present. It relies on selective memory, favouring the good of the past rather than objectively acknowledging that life is a mixed bag of positive and negative occurrences. This is what makes nostalgia so poignant: it effectively rallies people towards something that reminds them of these “good times”, particularly in entertainment. There is a reason why you turn to rewatching your favourite TV show when you are down – there is comfort in knowing exactly what will happen.
Media consumption is a universal activity that plays a major role in one’s self-identity. Music, film, television, and literature, among others, have the power to act as time capsules of the emotions and different eras of a person’s life. Most lovers of the Scary Movie franchise, which released its last film in 2013, will be eager to return to a world that reminds them of their younger selves – a version of themselves that never experienced the COVID-19 pandemic. The same goes for fans of the iconic The Devil Wears Prada – a film that is being followed up by a sequel that will be released on 1 May. Evidently, 2026 is not just the new 2016 – it will be an amalgamation of all of the “best” years through the return of beloved media.
The 2020s have been riddled with anxiety and tension. Why wouldn’t somebody want to go back to a time that they are convinced was less stressful and simpler? The entertainment industry understands this. Nostalgia recognises that the present moment is distressing and creates a false image of safety in the past. Through the replication of iconic media, people are compelled to buy into it as they are seeking a return to these happier times. As a result, nostalgia will continue to be a profitable avenue. It sells because it draws in an older audience that experienced the past while inviting a new audience in a palatable, modern fashion. This is a double win for the entertainment industry because less work is done to conceptualise ideas that reflect the present, and yet the audience is doubled.
So, while we draft the photo dumps of our embarrassing 2016 Snapchat images and rewatch Legally Blonde in preparation for the prequel, the question still remains: is 2026 the new 2016? Like 2016 (and every other year), 2026 will definitely be an experience of both the best and worst of times. It is important to not allow our own, and the media’s, obsession with a past that cannot be changed to distract us from the negatives that can still be changed in the present.
