How Does The 2013 Reboot Of The Tomorrow People Differ From 1970s?

Walking into the 1970s version of 'The Tomorrow People' feels like stepping into a cozy, slightly psychedelic kids' sci-fi club, while the 2013 reboot throws you into a darker, soapier, high-stakes world. I got hooked on the old series from a taped VHS when I was a teenager—its charm was in the simplicity: a band of young people who were the next stage of human evolution, moral dilemmas wrapped in a hopeful tone, and effects that were charmingly low-fi. The original leaned into episodic storytelling; each episode tended to wrap up a dilemma, and the focus was on what it meant to be different, with a kind of gentle British restraint. There was a lot of optimism, curiosity, and those classic 70s synthy cues that make you grin.

The 2013 take, which I devoured on a rainy weekend, is practically the opposite mood-wise. It’s serialized, angsty, and unapologetically modern. The stakes feel national (and sometimes global) rather than purely personal. The reboot leans into thriller and teen-drama beats: government agencies, surveillance, conspiracies, and a familial/romantic tension that drives episodes forward. Production-wise it’s slicker—better VFX, tighter fight choreography, and a soundtrack that tries to punctuate emotional beats rather than soothe them. Character dynamics changed too; relationships are messier, trust is a rare commodity, and the writers are willing to kill or emotionally scar characters in ways the 70s era rarely did.

Both versions are sincere in their own ways. If I want nostalgia and earnest wonder, I queue up the 70s episodes and enjoy the slower moral puzzles. When I want punchy drama, modern pacing, and a reimagined origin that treats the ‘next step’ as dangerous and politicized, I stream the 2013 series. They’re like two different conversations about the same idea—one whispering hope, the other shouting urgency.

The first time I compared the two I was struck by how culture shapes storytelling. The 1970s 'The Tomorrow People' reflected its era: hopeful, a touch whimsical, centered on community and the idea that being different could be a force for good. There was an educational, almost parable-like quality to many episodes—kids learning responsibility, adults learning to accept change. Its episodes were mostly standalone, so you could watch one and come away with a complete moral arc. The special effects and production were humble, which gave it a homespun charm.

Jump to 2013 and everything is in sharper focus and higher contrast. The reboot treats the Tomorrow People as targets—hunted, misunderstood, and embroiled in sprawling conspiracies. Themes shift from simple acceptance to surveillance, ethics of power, and the cost of being different in a modern state. Characterization is deeper in one sense—backs stories, interpersonal drama, and serialized arcs mean you invest over many episodes—but it’s also grittier and less naïve. Where the original might spend an episode resolving a conflict through dialogue and idealism, the reboot often opts for cliffhangers, betrayals, and moral ambiguity. In short, the 70s show is warm and episodic; the 2013 version is tense, serialized, and tuned to a post-2000s appetite for serialized teen-adjacent drama and conspiracy.

I tend to think of the two as cousins who grew up in different neighborhoods. Watching the 70s 'The Tomorrow People' is like flipping through a family photo album—soft lighting, clear-cut morals, and a focus on wonder and community. That series treats powers as a mystery to explore and a responsibility to teach youth about. In contrast, the 2013 series shows those same powers through a prism of modern paranoia: tracking, militarized responses, and emotional fallout. The reboot gives you character chemistry, darker visuals, and serialized plotting that rewards binge-watching.

On a personal note, the original makes me nostalgic for simpler storytelling evenings—tea, an old TV glow, and a comforting resolution. The reboot scratches a different itch: late-night streaming, plot twists, and the thrill of not knowing who you can trust. Both interpretations are valid; one comforts, the other complicates, and I enjoy returning to each depending on my mood.