As we reflect on the television offerings of the recent year, a selection of shows stand out not for their brilliance, but for their notable shortcomings. Ranging from awkward sequels to confusingly poor documentaries, here are the programmes that left us utterly bewildered or just reaching for the remote.
How to start with this love/hate spin-off? Plagued with dreadful writing, cringe-inducing character development (justice for Miranda!), and a mere 71 seconds of fan-favourite Samantha, the show struggled to justify its existence. Briefly, as the final season started, it seemed as if it had finally hit its stride. Then came an installment centered on Seemaâs natural deodorant. No wonder the creator announced this would be the final series. It concluded on a low point; the closeup of Mirandaâs toilet full of poo was simply too on-the-nose. Still, fans undeniably had a hoot picking apart every single âwhat on earth?â episode. And as Carrie â once again single â danced around her palatial townhouse to Barry White, who didnât release a small sob?
âCan Kim Kardashian act? Of course she canât.â
But that was almost the smallest of this drama's problems. The recipient of a very rare zero star assessment, it was hard to know where to start enumerating the flaws. The laughably leaden writing? The mind-numbing veneration of affluence and materialism? The seemingly deliberate parade of cliches? Performances so bad they felt almost malicious? Suffice it to say âeach and every oneâ and never speak of this series again. However, a second season has been commissioned, so weâre probably going to have to.
Given the restraining orders, abuse claims and parental failures, itâs reasonable to say Charlie Sheen has been a troubled figure. Not youâd truly have gleaned it from this multi-part documentary which chuckled along at Sheenâs various bouts of self-destructive excess while failing to tell us a single thing we didnât already know. Instead, it felt as if this volatile personality was being indulged, so any sympathy this show might induce should be reserved for the people who have had to endure close contact with this charismatic but flippant narcissist.
Of course we knew 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 persevered out of sheer love 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 ultimately slicing Charlie with an axe ⊠in super slow-motion. That's what you call giving up the ghost.
Shady figures meeting in deserted boxing gyms? The Prodigyâs Firestarter jackhammering away in club scenes? The late 90s called and wants its gangland drama back.
In truth, that is unfair on the gangland dramas of the late 90s. Many seem a bit old-fashioned now, but at least they didnât suffer the ignominy of having to accommodate baffling dialects. But there were plenty of other issues. Primarily that it was just profoundly dull; a dispute over narcotics territory between various London picaresques which felt a bit basic.
Considering the degree to which she provokes the ire of the nationâs ostentatiously angry commentators, itâs almost tempting to admire the Duchess of Sussexâs televised ventures into quaint lifestyle as deliberate statements. But then you watch them and are compelled to admit that actually, they may have a point. Itâs like watching a homeware catalogue animated; a meme for wine oâclock with ideas of grandeur; a parade of snoozing dogs, humming beehives, sentimental platitudes and forgettable crafting âtipsâ youâll not remember instantly. All underpinned by vast, mostly undeserved wealth. Ugh.
There are obviously fascinating things to be said about both Victoria Beckham and her struggles with vocation, self-image, self-acceptance. But for whatever reason, this three-part series chose not to explore them. Instead, the experience was akin to consuming a marketing brochure. She clearly has good reason to resent what she describes as her âmiserable cowâ image. But unfortunately, she failed to do herself any favours with this cagey letdown of a series.
It should have been the next cultural phenomenon â except even camper, with a glamorous star as a deceased benefactor and a well-known personality managing her inheritance. What more could you want? As players competed, there was plenty of backstabbing and arguing. But the rules quickly became incomprehensible: itâs still too confusing to detail what exactly was happening. Even more disappointingly, we only saw brief appearances of the star via filmed videos. The show ended up reeking of a production that was straining desperately to emulate something way beyond it.
How do you follow a show that captured a generation? The pressure was immense for this starry romantic comedy about Jessica, a rosy-eyed New Yorker who lands in London with a shattered romance. The star seized the opportunity by the horns and was joyous to watch, embodying Austen levels of romantic notions. But it was all very slick and, paradoxically, was insufficient. Plus, the sheer amount of celebrity friends involved felt uncomfortable.
Not good enough to be âpatchyâ.
Given the smart inclusion of gifted emerging comics, hopes were high. But unhappily, most of it fell flat. A recurring sketch was a single joke milked to a husk but recurring in every episode. One star seemed too ready to slip into a familiar irate mode. The behind-the-scenes sketches, in contrast, simply inspired the thought that they should probably have remained in there a bit longer.
This dramatisation of the story of Amanda Knox was overseen by Amanda Knox and pretty much solely showcased the viewpoint of Amanda Knox. So, while there undoubtedly is an compelling drama to be made about the tragic 2007 murder, this was not it. The material needed to be treated with care. Rather, the series laboured awkwardly to find the right tone, lurching from oddly jaunty, slightly stylised farce to ultimately, real-life horror. Twisted? Perhaps. A total mess? Very much so.
We love the star ⊠but did we buy him playing the greatest maths genius since, a man so intelligent heâs on the brink of a breakthrough that could ruin society? Nope! This international thriller about secret services targeting â and eliminating â academics honestly got more farcical by the second. Formulaic nonsense.
This uncritical portrait followed the online personality renowned for explicit exploits as she undertook her most extreme challenge yet. What on earth would motivate her? What we wanted was way more examination of her actual psychology, plus those of the men in the line. They could at least have interviewed the now-famous mum who showed up to haul her son away from the queue. What we got was horrific shots and zero critical analysis of her infamy whatsoever. It's staggering to consider, the filmmaker has a young daughter too.
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