Looking back, we consider the television offerings of the recent year, a selection of shows emerge not for their brilliance, but for their spectacular failures. Ranging from cringe-inducing spin-offs to bafflingly poor documentaries, here are the productions that had us utterly bewildered or simply reaching for the remote.
How to start with this love/hate follow-up? Plagued with woeful scripts, painful character development (justice for Miranda!), and a paltry 71 seconds of beloved Samantha, the series fought to find its footing. For a moment, as the final season started, it seemed as if it had at last found its groove. Then came an episode centered on Seema’s natural deodorant. No wonder the creator declared this would be the last season. It concluded on a bum note; the closeup of Miranda’s loo flooded with poo was just way too on-the-nose. Still, fans certainly had a hoot picking apart every single “what on earth?” episode. And as Carrie – a single woman once more – danced around her palatial townhouse to Barry White, who couldn't let out a small sob?
‘Can Kim Kardashian act? The answer is a resounding no.’
But that was almost the least of this drama's problems. The recipient of a very rare zero star review, it was difficult to know where to start listing the flaws. The hilariously wooden dialogue? The tedious glorification of affluence and materialism? The almost deliberate procession of cliches? Performances so bad they felt almost spiteful? Let’s just say “each and every one” and forget about this show again. However, a second season has been ordered, so we’re probably going to have to.
Given the restraining orders, abuse claims and fatherly shortcomings, it’s fair to say Charlie Sheen has been a bad boy. Not you’d really have gleaned it from this multi-part docuseries which smirked its way at Sheen’s various bouts of reckless hedonism while struggling to tell us a single thing we didn’t already know. Instead, it felt as if this volatile personality was being indulged, so any sympathy this series might induce should be reserved for the people who have had to endure proximity with this charismatic but dismissive egotist.
Naturally we understood it was preposterous from the get-go: a thriller about a supercomputer known as Charlie Big Potatoes that could either solve global crises – or annihilate all of humanity. We persevered out of sheer love for its stars … but by the end, it felt like even they had stopped bothering. One scarcely cared when his character died, and the other ended up slicing Charlie with an axe … in super slow-motion. Talk about admitting defeat.
Dodgy characters convening in empty boxing gyms? The Prodigy’s Firestarter jackhammering away in club scenes? The late 90s called and wants its gangland drama back.
In truth, that is harsh on the gangland dramas of the late 90s. Many seem a bit dated now, but at least they didn’t endure the ignominy of having to indulge baffling accents. But there were many other issues. Mainly that it was just really boring; a conflict over narcotics territory between various cockney rogues which seemed rather simplistic.
Considering the degree to which she grinds the gears of certain performatively angry commentators, it’s temptingly tempting to applaud the Duchess of Sussex’s televised forays into twee lifestyle as intentional statements. But then you view them and are compelled to admit that actually, they might have a point. It’s like watching a homeware catalogue animated; a meme for evening drinks with ideas of grandeur; a parade of snoozing dogs, humming beehives, Hallmark platitudes and pointless crafting “tips” you’ll not remember instantly. All underpinned by vast, largely unearned wealth. Ugh.
There are clearly interesting things to be discussed about both Victoria Beckham and her journey with career, identity, self-acceptance. But for some reason, this three-part series opted not to say them. Instead, the viewing was like consuming a sales catalogue. She clearly has every right to resent what she describes as her “stern” image. But sadly, she didn’t do herself any helps with this guarded non-event of a series.
It had the potential to be the next big hit – except even camper, with a famous 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 bewildering: it’s even now too complicated to explain 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 programme that was straining desperately to emulate something far greater than it.
How does one succeed a show that captured a generation? The expectation was immense for this starry romantic comedy about Jessica, a hopeful New Yorker who arrives in London with a shattered romance. The star took her biggest role by the horns and was a delight to watch, embodying Jane Austen levels of romantic notions. But it was all very glossy and, ironically, was insufficient. Plus, the abundance of celebrity friends involved felt icky.
Not even good enough to be ‘uneven’.
Given the shrewd recruitment of gifted emerging comics, hopes were high. But sadly, most of it fell flat. A recurring sketch was a one-note joke stretched to a husk but recurring in every episode. One star seemed too ready 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 while longer.
This retelling of the story of Amanda Knox was executive produced by Amanda Knox and pretty much exclusively presented the perspective of Amanda Knox. So, while there probably is an interesting drama to be made about the horrific 2007 murder, this isn’t it. The subject matter needed to be handled sensitively. Rather, the series laboured awkwardly to find the right voice, lurching from strangely jaunty, somewhat stylised farce to ultimately, real-life horror. Twisted? Arguably. A complete mess? Absolutely.
We love the star … but did we believe him playing the most brilliant maths genius in history, a man so smart he’s on the brink of a discovery that could destabilise society? Nope! This international thriller about secret services targeting – and eliminating – academics frankly got more farcical by the second. Silliness-by-numbers.
This uncritical portrait followed the online personality notorious for explicit exploits as she undertook her most extreme feat yet. What on earth would possess her? What we wanted was far greater interrogation of her actual psychology, plus those of the men in the line. They could at least have interviewed the legendary mum who appeared to drag her son away from the queue. What we got was horrific shots and zero interrogation of her infamy whatsoever. And to think, the documentary-maker has a young daughter too.
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