Looking back, we consider the television offerings of the past year, a handful of series emerge not for their brilliance, but for their spectacular shortcomings. From awkward spin-offs to confusingly bad docuseries, here are the programmes that left us utterly bewildered or simply reaching for the remote.
Where to begin with this divisive spin-off? Burdened with woeful writing, cringe-inducing character development (justice for Miranda!), and a paltry 71 seconds of fan-favourite Samantha, the show struggled to justify its existence. For a moment, as the final season began, it seemed as if it had at last found its groove. Then came an episode all about Seemaâs natural deodorant. No wonder the showrunner announced this would be the last series. It concluded on a bum note; the closeup of Mirandaâs toilet flooded with poo was simply too symbolic. Still, viewers certainly found joy dissecting every single âwhat on earth?â moment. And as Carrie â once again single â twirled around her sprawling townhouse to Barry White, who didnât release a little sob?
âIs Kim Kardashian an actress? The answer is a resounding no.â
But that was almost the smallest of this drama's issues. The recipient of a exceedingly uncommon no-star assessment, it was hard to know where to start enumerating the flaws. The laughably wooden writing? The mind-numbing veneration of affluence and consumption? The almost wilful procession of tropes? Acting so poor they felt almost spiteful? Suffice it to say âall of the aboveâ 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, abuse claims and parental shortcomings, itâs fair to say Charlie Sheen has been a bad boy. Not youâd truly have known it from this multi-part documentary which chuckled along at Sheenâs various episodes of self-destructive hedonism while failing to tell us anything we didnât already know. Instead, it felt as if this volatile personality was being pandered to, so any sympathy this show might evoke should be saved for the people who have had to endure close contact with this charismatic but dismissive narcissist.
Naturally we knew it was preposterous from the outset: a thriller about a supercomputer known as Charlie Big Potatoes that could either solve global crises â or annihilate all of humanity. We stuck with it out of pure admiration for its stars ⊠but by the end, it felt like even they had stopped bothering. One scarcely reacted when his character died, and the other ultimately slicing Charlie with an axe ⊠in super slow-motion. Talk about admitting defeat.
Shady figures meeting in deserted boxing gyms? The Prodigyâs Firestarter blaring in club scenes? The late 90s called and wants its crime drama back.
Actually, that is harsh on the gangland dramas of the late 90s. Many look a bit dated now, but at least they didnât endure the embarrassment of having to indulge unconvincing dialects. But there were plenty of other issues. Mainly that it was just profoundly boring; a dispute over narcotics territory between various cockney picaresques which seemed rather simplistic.
Given the extent to which she grinds the gears of certain performatively enraged commentators, itâs almost tempting to applaud 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 homeware catalogue come to life; a meme for wine oâclock with delusions of grandeur; a procession of sleeping dogs, humming beehives, Hallmark platitudes and forgettable crafting âhacksâ youâll not remember instantly. All underpinned by immense, largely unearned wealth. Ugh.
There are clearly fascinating things to be said about regarding Victoria Beckham and her journey with vocation, identity, self-acceptance. But for some reason, this documentary series chose not to explore them. Rather, the viewing was like reading a sales catalogue. She obviously has every right to bridle at what she describes as her âmiserable cowâ image. But unfortunately, she failed to do herself any helps with this guarded letdown of a series.
It had the potential to be the next big hit â except even camper, with a famous star as a deceased benefactor and a sharp-tongued personality overseeing her inheritance. What more could you want? As contestants competed, there was plenty of backstabbing and arguing. But the rules quickly became bewildering: itâs even now too confusing to detail what precisely 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 emulate something far greater than it.
How does one succeed a show that defined a generation? The pressure was immense for this glitzy romcom 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 not enough. Plus, the sheer amount of famous cameos involved felt uncomfortable.
Not good enough to be âunevenâ.
Given the smart inclusion of gifted younger comics, hopes were high. But sadly, most of it fell flat. A particular sketch was a one-note joke milked to a dry pulp but repeated in every episode. One star seemed too ready to slip into a familiar irate mode. The behind-the-scenes sketches, meanwhile, simply provoked the thought that they should probably have stayed in there a bit longer.
This dramatisation of the story of Amanda Knox was executive produced 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 horrific 2007 murder, this isnât it. The subject matter needed to be treated sensitively. Rather, the series struggled painfully to find the right voice, lurching from strangely breezy, somewhat stylised farce to ultimately, real-life horror. Twisted? Perhaps. A complete mess? Very much so.
We love the lead actor ⊠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 destabilise society? No! This international thriller about secret services spying on â and eliminating â intellectuals honestly got more farcical by the second. Formulaic nonsense.
This hagiography followed the content creator 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 actual psychology, plus those of the men in the line. They could at least have spoken to the now-famous mum who appeared to drag her son out of the queue. What we got was horrific shots and absolutely no critical analysis of her infamy whatsoever. And to think, the filmmaker has a young daughter too.
A passionate writer and lifestyle enthusiast with a background in digital media, sharing practical advice and personal experiences.