Looking back, we consider the TV landscape of the past year, a selection of shows emerge not for their excellence, but for their notable failures. From cringe-inducing sequels to confusingly poor documentaries, here are the productions that had us scratching our heads or simply reaching for the remote.
How to start with this love/hate follow-up? 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 third series started, it seemed as if it had finally found its groove. Then arrived an episode centered on Seemaâs natural deodorant. No wonder the creator declared this would be the final series. It ended on a bum note; the lingering shot of Mirandaâs loo flooded with poo was simply too on-the-nose. Still, viewers certainly found joy picking apart every single âwhat on earth?â episode. And as Carrie â a single woman once more â twirled around her palatial townhouse to Barry White, who didnât release a little sob?
âCan Kim Kardashian act? Of course she canât.â
But that was almost the least of this drama's issues. The subject of a very rare no-star review, it was difficult to know where to begin listing the problems. The laughably wooden writing? The mind-numbing veneration of affluence and consumption? The seemingly wilful parade of tropes? Performances so poor they felt borderline spiteful? Suffice it to say âall of the aboveâ and forget about this series again. Except, a new season has been commissioned, so weâre probably going to have to.
Considering the legal troubles, domestic violence claims and fatherly shortcomings, itâs reasonable to say Charlie Sheen has been a bad boy. Not that youâd really have gleaned it from this multi-part documentary which smirked its way at Sheenâs various bouts of reckless excess while failing to tell us anything we weren't already aware of. Rather, it felt as if this loose cannon was being pandered to, so any pity this series might induce should be saved for the people who have had to suffer proximity with this charming but dismissive narcissist.
Of course we understood 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 sheer admiration for its stars ⌠but by the end, it felt like even they had given up trying. One scarcely reacted when his character died, and the other ultimately slicing Charlie with an axe ⌠in painfully slow-motion. That's what you call giving up the ghost.
Shady characters meeting in deserted boxing gyms? The Prodigyâs Firestarter blaring in club scenes? The late 90s called and wants its gangland drama back.
Actually, that is unfair on the gangland dramas of the late 90s. Many look a little old-fashioned now, but at least they didnât suffer the ignominy of having to indulge unconvincing accents. But there were many other problems. Primarily that it was just profoundly boring; a dispute over narcotics territory between various cockney picaresques which felt rather simplistic.
Considering the degree to which she grinds the gears of certain ostentatiously angry commentators, itâs almost easy to applaud the Duchess of Sussexâs various ventures into quaint homemaking as intentional provocations. But then you watch them and are compelled to concede that in this case, they might have a point. Itâs like watching a lifestyle catalogue animated; a meme for evening drinks with ideas of grandeur; a parade of snoozing dogs, buzzing beehives, Hallmark platitudes and pointless crafting âhacksâ youâll forget instantly. All supported by immense, mostly undeserved wealth. Ugh.
There are clearly interesting things to be discussed about both Victoria Beckham and her struggles with vocation, identity, self-worth. But for some reason, this documentary series opted not to say them. Rather, the experience was akin to consuming a marketing brochure. She obviously has every right to bridle at what she describes as her âsternâ image. But unfortunately, she didnât do herself any helps with this cagey letdown of a series.
It had the potential to be the next cultural phenomenon â except even more extravagant, with a famous star playing dead and a sharp-tongued personality managing her inheritance. What more could you ask for? As contestants battled it out, 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 disappointingly, we only saw brief appearances of the star via filmed videos. The show ended up smelling of a production that was straining desperately to live up to something way beyond it.
How do you follow a show that defined a generation? The pressure was enormous for this glitzy romantic comedy about Jessica, a hopeful New Yorker who lands in London with a broken heart. The lead actress seized the opportunity by the horns and was joyous to watch, reveling in Austen levels of romantic ideals. But it was all very slick and, ironically, was insufficient. Plus, the abundance of famous cameos involved felt icky.
Not good enough to be âunevenâ.
Given the shrewd inclusion of gifted emerging comics, expectations were high. But unhappily, most of it fell flat. A particular sketch was a single joke milked to a dry pulp but repeated in every episode. One star seemed too willing to slip into a familiar ranting mode. The behind-the-scenes sketches, in contrast, simply inspired the thought that they should probably have stayed in there a bit 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 isnât it. The subject matter needed to be handled sensitively. Instead, the series laboured awkwardly to find the right tone, lurching from strangely jaunty, somewhat stylised farce to inevitably, real-life horror. Twisted? Arguably. A complete mess? Very much so.
We admire the star ⌠but did we believe him playing the greatest maths genius since, a man so smart heâs on the verge of a discovery that could destabilise society? No! This globe-trotting thriller about government agencies targeting â and eliminating â academics honestly got more absurd by the second. Silliness-by-numbers.
This hagiography followed the online personality notorious for sexual exploits as she undertook her biggest challenge yet. What on earth would possess her? What we craved was way more examination of her true psyche, plus those of the men in the queue. They could at least have spoken to the legendary mum who appeared to drag her son out of the queue. What we got was horrific imagery and zero critical analysis of her infamy whatsoever. It's staggering to consider, the filmmaker has a young daughter too.
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