As we reflect on the TV landscape of the past year, a handful of series emerge not for their excellence, but for their spectacular failures. Ranging from awkward sequels to bafflingly poor docuseries, here are the programmes that had us utterly bewildered or just reaching for the remote.
Where to begin with this love/hate spin-off? Plagued with dreadful writing, cringe-inducing arcs (justice for Miranda!), and a mere 71 seconds of fan-favourite Samantha, the series fought to justify its existence. For a moment, as the final series started, it looked like it had at last hit its stride. Then came an installment centered on Seemaâs natural deodorant. No wonder the showrunner announced this would be the last season. It ended on a low point; the lingering shot of Mirandaâs loo full of poo was just way too symbolic. Still, viewers undeniably found joy dissecting every single âwtf?â episode. And as Carrie â a single woman once more â twirled around her palatial townhouse to Barry White, who didnât release a small sob?
âIs Kim Kardashian an actress? Of course she canât.â
But that was almost the smallest of this drama's issues. The subject of a very rare no-star assessment, it was difficult to know where to start enumerating the flaws. The hilariously leaden dialogue? The tedious veneration of wealth and materialism? The seemingly deliberate parade of tropes? Acting so poor they felt borderline malicious? Letâs just 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 legal troubles, abuse claims and fatherly shortcomings, itâs fair to say Charlie Sheen has been a troubled figure. Not youâd really have known it from this three-part documentary which chuckled along at Sheenâs various bouts of reckless hedonism while struggling to tell us anything we weren't already aware of. Instead, it felt as if this volatile personality was being indulged, so any pity this show might evoke should be reserved for the people who have had to suffer close contact with this charming but flippant narcissist.
Of course we knew it was preposterous from the get-go: a thriller about a AI known as Charlie Big Potatoes that could either solve global crises â or destroy all of humanity. We persevered out of pure love for its stars ⊠but by the end, it felt like even they had stopped bothering. One barely reacted when his character died, and the other ultimately slicing Charlie with an axe ⊠in painfully slow-motion. Talk about admitting defeat.
Dodgy figures convening in deserted boxing gyms? A certain band's Firestarter blaring in club scenes? The late 90s called and wants its crime drama back.
Actually, that is unfair on the crime shows of the late 90s. Many seem a little old-fashioned now, but at least they didnât suffer the ignominy of having to indulge baffling dialects. But there were many other issues. Primarily that it was just really boring; a dispute over drug-selling territory between various cockney rogues which felt a bit basic.
Given the degree to which she provokes the ire of certain ostentatiously angry commentators, itâs almost tempting to applaud the Duchess of Sussexâs televised ventures into quaint lifestyle as deliberate provocations. But then you view them and are forced to concede that in this case, they may have a point. Itâs like watching a lifestyle catalogue come to life; a poster 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 supported by immense, largely unearned wealth. Ugh.
There are clearly interesting things to be said about regarding Victoria Beckham and her struggles with career, identity, self-worth. But for whatever reason, this documentary series chose not to explore them. Rather, the experience was like consuming a sales catalogue. She clearly has good reason to bridle at what she describes as her âmiserable cowâ image. But unfortunately, she failed to do herself any favours with this guarded letdown of a series.
It had the potential to be the next cultural phenomenon â except even camper, with a famous star as a deceased benefactor and a well-known personality overseeing her estate. What more could you ask for? As players competed, there was plenty of backstabbing and arguing. But the rules quickly became incomprehensible: itâs still too complicated to detail what precisely was happening. Even more disappointingly, we only saw glimpses of the star via filmed videos. The series ended up smelling of a production that was trying way too hard to live up to something far greater than it.
How does one follow a show that defined a generation? The expectation was immense for this starry romcom about Jessica, a hopeful New Yorker who lands in London with a shattered romance. The star seized the opportunity by the horns and was joyous to watch, reveling in Jane Austen levels of romantic ideals. But it was all very slick and, paradoxically, was not enough. Plus, the abundance of famous cameos involved felt icky.
Not good enough to be âpatchyâ.
Given the shrewd recruitment of talented emerging comics, expectations were high. But sadly, most of it didnât land. A particular sketch was a one-note joke stretched to a husk but recurring in every episode. One star seemed too willing to slip into a well-known irate mode. The behind-the-scenes sketches, meanwhile, simply provoked the idea 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 exclusively presented the perspective of Amanda Knox. So, while there probably is an compelling drama to be made about the tragic 2007 murder, this isnât it. The subject matter needed to be handled with care. Rather, the series laboured awkwardly to find the right voice, lumbering from oddly jaunty, slightly stylised farce to inevitably, real-life horror. Complex? Perhaps. A complete mess? Very much so.
We admire the star ⊠but did we buy him playing the greatest maths genius in history, a man so smart heâs on the verge of a breakthrough that could destabilise society? Nope! This international thriller about secret services targeting â and eliminating â intellectuals frankly got more farcical by the second. Silliness-by-numbers.
This hagiography followed the content creator renowned for explicit exploits as she undertook her most extreme feat yet. What on earth would possess her? What we craved was way more examination of her actual psyche, plus those of the men in the queue. They could at least have interviewed the legendary mum who appeared to drag her son out of the queue. What we got was horrific imagery and absolutely no interrogation of her infamy whatsoever. It's staggering to consider, the filmmaker has a young daughter too.
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