As we consider the TV landscape of the past year, a handful of shows emerge not for their brilliance, but for their spectacular shortcomings. From cringe-inducing spin-offs to confusingly bad documentaries, here are the programmes that had us utterly bewildered or simply reaching for the remote.
How to start with this divisive follow-up? Plagued with woeful writing, cringe-inducing arcs (we demand better for Miranda!), and a paltry 71 seconds of beloved Samantha, the series fought to find its footing. For a moment, as the final series started, it looked like it had finally hit its stride. Then came an episode all about Seemaâs natural deodorant. No wonder the creator declared this would be the last season. It concluded on a bum note; the lingering shot of Mirandaâs toilet full of poo was simply too symbolic. Still, viewers certainly found joy picking apart every single âwhat on earth?â moment. And as Carrie â a single woman once more â twirled around her sprawling townhouse to Barry White, who couldn't let out a little sob?
âIs Kim Kardashian an actress? Of course she canât.â
But that was almost the least of this drama's issues. The subject of a exceedingly uncommon no-star review, it was hard to know where to start enumerating the problems. The hilariously wooden writing? The tedious glorification of affluence and consumption? The almost deliberate parade of cliches? Acting so poor they felt almost spiteful? Letâs just say âeach and every oneâ and never speak of this series again. Except, a second season has been ordered, so weâre likely going to have to.
Given the legal troubles, domestic violence claims and fatherly failures, itâs reasonable to say Charlie Sheen has been a troubled figure. Not youâd truly have gleaned it from this three-part documentary which smirked its way at Sheenâs various episodes of self-destructive hedonism while struggling to tell us a single thing we weren't already aware of. Rather, it felt as if this loose cannon was being pandered to, so any sympathy this series might induce should be saved for the people who have had to endure proximity with this charismatic but dismissive egotist.
Naturally we understood it was ridiculous from the get-go: a drama about a supercomputer known as Charlie Big Potatoes that could either save the world â or annihilate all of humanity. We stuck with it out of pure admiration for its leads ⌠but by the end, it felt like even they had given up trying. One barely cared when his character died, and the other ended up slicing Charlie with an axe ⌠in super slow-motion. That's what you call admitting defeat.
Shady figures meeting in empty boxing gyms? A certain band's Firestarter jackhammering away in club scenes? The late 90s called and demands its crime drama back.
Actually, that is unfair on the crime shows of the late 90s. Many look a little old-fashioned now, but at least they didnât endure the ignominy of having to indulge baffling dialects. But there were many other problems. Primarily that it was just really dull; a conflict over narcotics territory between various cockney picaresques which felt rather simplistic.
Given the degree to which she grinds the gears of certain performatively angry commentators, itâs almost easy to admire the Duchess of Sussexâs televised ventures into twee lifestyle as intentional statements. But then you watch them and are compelled to admit that in this case, they may have a point. Itâs like watching a lifestyle magazine animated; a poster for wine oâclock with ideas of grandeur; a procession of sleeping dogs, buzzing beehives, Hallmark sayings and pointless crafting âhacksâ youâll forget instantly. All underpinned by immense, largely unearned wealth. Ugh.
There are clearly fascinating things to be said about both Victoria Beckham and her journey with career, identity, self-acceptance. But for some reason, this documentary series chose not to say them. Rather, the viewing was like consuming a marketing brochure. She obviously has good reason to resent what she describes as her âmiserable cowâ image. But sadly, she didnât do herself any favours with this guarded non-event of a series.
It should have been the next big hit â except even more extravagant, with a famous star as a deceased benefactor and a well-known personality overseeing her inheritance. What more could you want? As players competed, there was plenty of betrayal and squabbling. But the rules quickly became bewildering: itâs even now too confusing to explain what precisely was happening. Even more disappointingly, we only saw brief appearances of the star via prerecorded videos. The series ended up reeking of a production that was straining desperately to live up to something way beyond it.
How do you follow a show that captured a generation? The pressure was immense for this glitzy romantic comedy about Jessica, a hopeful New Yorker who arrives in London with a shattered romance. The lead actress seized the opportunity by the horns and was a delight to watch, embodying Austen levels of romantic notions. But it was all very slick and, ironically, was not enough. Plus, the sheer amount of famous friends involved felt icky.
Not good enough to be âunevenâ.
Given the smart recruitment of gifted younger comics, expectations were high. But unhappily, most of it fell flat. A recurring sketch was a single joke stretched to a husk but repeated in every episode. One star seemed too willing to slip into a familiar irate mode. The writing room sketches, meanwhile, simply provoked the idea that they should probably have remained in there a bit longer.
This retelling of the story of Amanda Knox was overseen by Amanda Knox and pretty much solely showcased the perspective of Amanda Knox. So, while there undoubtedly is an interesting drama to be made about the tragic 2007 murder, this isnât it. The material needed to be treated sensitively. Rather, the series struggled painfully to find the right voice, lumbering from oddly jaunty, slightly stylised farce to ultimately, real-life horror. Twisted? Perhaps. A complete mess? Very much so.
We admire the star ⌠but did we buy him playing the most brilliant maths genius since, a man so intelligent heâs on the brink of a breakthrough that could ruin society? Nope! This globe-trotting thriller about government agencies targeting â and killing off â academics frankly got more absurd by the second. Formulaic nonsense.
This hagiography followed the online personality renowned for explicit escapades as she prepared for her most extreme feat yet. What on earth would possess her? What we craved was far greater interrogation of her true psyche, plus those of the men in the queue. They could at least have interviewed the legendary mum who showed up to haul her son away from the queue. What we got was disturbing shots and zero interrogation of her infamy whatsoever. And to think, the filmmaker has a young daughter too.
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