As we reflect on the television offerings of the past year, a selection of shows emerge not for their brilliance, but for their notable failures. From awkward sequels to bafflingly bad docuseries, here are the productions that left us scratching our heads or simply reaching for the remote.
How to start with this love/hate follow-up? Plagued with dreadful writing, painful arcs (we demand better for Miranda!), and a paltry 71 seconds of beloved Samantha, the show struggled to justify its existence. Briefly, as the third season started, it looked like it had finally hit its stride. Then arrived an installment all about Seemaâs natural deodorant. No wonder the showrunner announced this would be the final season. It concluded on a bum note; the lingering shot of Mirandaâs toilet flooded with poo was simply too symbolic. Still, viewers undeniably found joy picking apart every single âwhat on earth?â episode. And as Carrie â a single woman once more â danced around her palatial townhouse to Barry White, who couldn't let out a small sob?
âCan Kim Kardashian act? The answer is a resounding no.â
But that was practically the smallest of this show's problems. The recipient of a exceedingly uncommon no-star review, it was difficult to know where to start enumerating the problems. The hilariously wooden writing? The mind-numbing glorification of affluence and materialism? The seemingly wilful procession of cliches? Performances so poor they felt almost malicious? Suffice it to say âeach and every oneâ and forget about this series again. Except, a second season has been ordered, so weâre likely going to have to.
Considering the restraining orders, domestic violence claims and parental failures, itâs fair to say Charlie Sheen has been a troubled figure. Not that youâd really have gleaned it from this multi-part documentary which smirked its way at Sheenâs various episodes of reckless excess while failing to tell us anything we didnât already know. Rather, it felt as if this volatile personality was being pandered to, so any pity this series might evoke should be saved for the people who have had to endure close contact with this charming but flippant narcissist.
Of course we understood it was preposterous from the get-go: a drama about a AI known as Charlie Big Potatoes that could either solve global crises â or annihilate all of humanity. We persevered out of sheer love for its stars ⊠but by the end, it felt like even they had given up trying. One barely reacted when his character died, and the other ended up hacking Charlie with an axe ⊠in painfully slow-motion. That's what you call giving up the ghost.
Shady characters meeting in deserted boxing gyms? A certain band's Firestarter jackhammering away in club scenes? The late 90s called and wants its crime drama back.
Actually, that is harsh on the crime shows of the late 90s. Many look a little old-fashioned now, but at least they didnât suffer the ignominy of having to indulge baffling dialects. But there were plenty of other problems. Primarily that it was just profoundly dull; a dispute over drug-selling territory between various London rogues which seemed a bit basic.
Considering the degree to which she grinds the gears of the nationâs performatively angry commentators, itâs temptingly easy to applaud the Duchess of Sussexâs various ventures into quaint lifestyle as intentional statements. But then you view them and are compelled to concede that actually, they may have a point. Itâs like watching a lifestyle magazine animated; a poster for evening drinks with ideas of grandeur; a parade of snoozing dogs, buzzing beehives, Hallmark platitudes and pointless crafting âtipsâ youâll forget instantly. All supported by vast, mostly undeserved wealth. Ugh.
There are clearly interesting things to be said about both Victoria Beckham and her struggles with vocation, identity, self-worth. But for whatever reason, this documentary series chose not to say them. Rather, the experience was like consuming a sales brochure. She obviously has every right to bridle at what she describes as her âmiserable cowâ image. But sadly, she didnât do herself any favours with this cagey letdown of a series.
It should have been the next cultural phenomenon â except even more extravagant, with a glamorous star as a deceased benefactor and a well-known personality overseeing her inheritance. What more could you want? As players battled it out, there was plenty of backstabbing and arguing. But the rules quickly became incomprehensible: itâs still too complicated to explain what exactly was happening. Even more regrettably, we only saw glimpses of the star via filmed videos. The show ended up smelling of a production that was trying way too hard to live up to something way beyond it.
How do you succeed a show that captured a generation? The expectation was enormous for this starry romantic comedy about Jessica, a rosy-eyed New Yorker who lands in London with a broken heart. The star seized the opportunity by the horns and was a delight to watch, embodying Jane Austen levels of romantic notions. But it was all very slick and, paradoxically, was not enough. Plus, the sheer amount of famous cameos involved felt uncomfortable.
Not even good enough to be âunevenâ.
Given the shrewd inclusion of gifted younger comics, hopes were high. But sadly, most of it didnât land. A particular sketch was a single joke stretched to a dry pulp but repeated in every episode. One star seemed too willing to slip into a familiar irate mode. The behind-the-scenes sketches, in contrast, simply inspired the thought that they should probably have stayed in there a while longer.
This retelling of the story of Amanda Knox was overseen by Amanda Knox and pretty much exclusively presented the perspective of Amanda Knox. So, while there undoubtedly is an interesting drama to be made about the horrific 2007 murder, this was not it. The subject matter needed to be handled sensitively. Instead, the series laboured awkwardly to find the right tone, lumbering from oddly jaunty, slightly stylised farce to ultimately, real-life horror. Complex? Perhaps. A total mess? Very much so.
We admire the lead actor ⊠but did we believe him playing the greatest maths genius since, a man so intelligent heâs on the brink of a breakthrough that could destabilise society? No! This international thriller about secret services spying on â and killing off â academics honestly got more absurd by the second. Formulaic nonsense.
This hagiography followed the online personality renowned for explicit exploits as she prepared for her most extreme challenge yet. What on earth would possess her? What we wanted was far greater interrogation of her true psyche, plus those of the men in the queue. They could at least have spoken to the legendary mum who showed up to drag her son out of the queue. What we got was horrific imagery and absolutely no critical analysis of her notoriety whatsoever. It's staggering to consider, the filmmaker has a young daughter too.