by Emily Maesar, Associate TV Editor

During the TV season of 2002-2003 there were no new teen shows. 

(Record scratch) 

Well, that’s actually not true—there were no new live-action teen shows. The animated shows that started during this year are not quite as impactful as something like Daria, for instance, but considering one just got a 2019 live-action TV film adaptation and the other was rebooted for a second and third season in 2023 and 2024, respectively, they’re still pretty present in the minds of many. Though maybe not anymore…more on that later.

Airing in the summer of 2002 but finishing up at the end of the normal TV season, Disney’s Kim Possible is a series about a normal high school girl (a cheerleader) who has a secret life as a crime fighter. It’s very Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but what if it wasn’t vampires and demons but masterminds and minions? Created by Bob Schooley and Mark McCorkle—writers who were known for “Movie: The Series, but make it Disney”—Kim Possible was an attempt to give the network a more girl-forward animated show, since they were mostly rocking adaptations of Aladdin, Hercules, and Buzz Lightyear of Star Command at the time. 

It’s been noted that the series pitch started in an elevator but seemingly between Schooley and McCorkle. Like many animated, and specifically Disney, concepts, it seems like it started with jokes about character names: “Kim Possible, she can do anything. Ron Stoppable, he can’t.” With the two leads established, including their shticks, the series came together rather quickly. The main voice cast was pulled from Disney Channel and sister company ABC alumni with Christy Carlson Romano, who played the older sister on Even Stevens, and Will Friedle, who played the older brother on Boy Meets World, playing Kim and Ron, respectively. With the iconic theme song “Call Me, Beep Me” sung by Christina Milian, the series was ready to take over the Disney teen demographic it was aimed at. 

And take over that demographic, it did. Despite the fear that the series wouldn’t actually draw the attention of enough boys to be worth making, which is deranged and deeply sexist, the series was a hit. It was praised for its dialogue, boasting a hip (but not too hip) style that was funny and appealing to pre-teens and older teens alike. Additionally, Ron Stoppable’s own sidekick in Rufus, his naked mole rat, was a crowd favorite. The USA Today review of the first season even noted that the show “is ultimately made memorable by its charming cast of characters, including a naked mole rat named Rufus.” Kim Possible’s pilot was even nominated for Outstanding Animated Program at the 55th Primetime Emmys—though it lost to an episode of The Simpsons, like most animated shows of the time did. 

The legacy of the series still looms quite large at Disney Channel. The former president of Disney Channel, Rich Ross, noted that the series was a “stand-out” for the network, even compared to the live-action shows. The network thought the series still had enough cultural clout that in 2018 they announced a live-action DCOM (Disney Channel Original Movie) adaptation of it. The film was released a little over 11 years after the show officially ended. 

Similar to how a live-action version of Kim Possible had been floated between the first and second season, Phil Lord and Christopher Miller wanted to do a live-action version of their MTV animated series Clone High. However, their co-creator, Bill Lawrence, had an overall deal for a long time at Warner Bros. while they were on contract at Fox for much of the time after the cancellation of the series. And so, a live-action film was never in the cards for the cult classic series that ran for a single season during the 2002-2003 general TV season. A new season or two, though? That’s just what Max ordered. 

But okay, let’s go back to where it all started: Lord and Miller making a list of famous people without overly litigious estates (or estates at all) that they could put into a high school for comedy. Which was, basically, the birth of Clone High, with the obvious concept that they’re all clones of those famous people who are all horny, emotionally complex teenagers. The horny bit is where a lot of the comedy in the series comes from and also where a lot of the controversy hit the creative team. Largely because of their Gandhi character, who caused a lot of protest around the world, including a hunger strike in India. 

At the time of its airing, the series received mixed reviews. It was compared a few times to the type of humor that shows like Curb Your Enthusiasm had, while also being favored above the wider reach of reality TV, which was growing in popularity especially on MTV. It was also compared, favorably, to co-creator Bill Lawrence’s other huge show, the ABC sit-com Scrubs. Sexual and crass, yes, but the relationship between Abe and Joan was viewed as really heartfelt and worthwhile. While the series was basically forgotten after its cancellation, the years between then and now have seen a rise in memes and jokes pulled from the show, or using images from it, which have shot up an interest in the series. Which is why, at the start of the pandemic, when Lord and Miller pitched a revival of the series, it was the perfect time. Because of COVID-19, live-action productions were shutting down and the only entertainment still getting made for a long time was animation and video games, since all aspects of production and post-production could be done remotely. 

However, like the live-action film version of Kim Possible—which was one of the lowest performing DCOMs in recent history—the revival of Clone High didn’t last very long. It did last longer than the original, so that’s something, but the series was canceled (yet again) after season three, ending the series on another cliffhanger. Maybe it’s that neither of these concepts are particularly relatable to the modern Gen Z teen—not that I think they were “relatable” to me when I was a teen, watching them originally. However, the way that teenagers relate to media these days seems wildly different from the early 2000s. Not to mention my favorite enemy of television: streaming. And, in particular, David Zaslav and his terrible management of Warner Bros. 

It is, ultimately, the curse of this series to remind me that shows like the ones I’m covering all this year can simply never be made and appreciated in the same way, ever again. We always talk about how Riverdale is actually the end of an era, that shows used to get to do what Riverdale did (regardless of how you feel about it). However, when that show died, The CW (and broadcast teens shows more broadly) were officially kaput. So, while there were no new live-action teen shows during 2003-2004–simply because so many were running already—the season brought forth the 2000s golden age of teen television. One that would largely be the end of it—at least on broadcast.