Looking back, we reflect on the TV landscape of the past year, a selection of shows emerge not for their excellence, but for their notable shortcomings. From awkward sequels to confusingly poor docuseries, here are the programmes that left us utterly bewildered or simply reaching for the remote.
How to start with this divisive spin-off? Burdened with dreadful writing, painful arcs (we demand better for Miranda!), and a paltry 71 seconds of beloved Samantha, the show fought to justify its existence. For a moment, as the third series began, it looked like it had at last found its groove. Then came an installment all about Seema’s natural deodorant. No wonder the creator declared this would be the final season. It ended on a bum note; the lingering shot of Miranda’s loo flooded with poo was just way too on-the-nose. Yet, fans undeniably had a hoot picking apart every single “wtf?” moment. And as Carrie – once again single – twirled around her sprawling townhouse to Barry White, who didn’t let out a small sob?
‘Can Kim Kardashian act? Of course she can’t.’
But that was practically the least of this drama's problems. The subject of a very rare no-star assessment, it was difficult to know where to start enumerating the problems. The laughably wooden dialogue? The tedious veneration of affluence and consumption? The almost wilful procession of tropes? Performances so poor they felt almost spiteful? Let’s just say “each and every one” and forget about this show again. Except, a second season has been commissioned, so we’re likely going to have to.
Considering the restraining orders, domestic violence claims and fatherly failures, it’s reasonable to say Charlie Sheen has been a bad boy. Not that you’d really have known it from this multi-part documentary which smirked its way at Sheen’s various episodes of reckless hedonism while failing to tell us a single thing we weren't already aware of. Instead, it felt as if this loose cannon was being pandered to, so any sympathy this series might induce should be saved for the people who have had to endure proximity with this charismatic but dismissive narcissist.
Naturally we knew it was ridiculous from the get-go: a drama about a supercomputer known as Charlie Big Potatoes that could either solve global crises – or destroy all of humanity. We stuck with it out of pure love for its leads … but by the end, it felt like even they had stopped bothering. One barely reacted when his character died, and the other ultimately hacking Charlie with an axe … in painfully slow-motion. Talk about admitting defeat.
Dodgy figures meeting in empty boxing gyms? A certain band's Firestarter blaring in club scenes? The late 90s called and wants its crime drama back.
In truth, that is harsh on the crime shows of the late 90s. Many look a little dated now, but at least they didn’t suffer the ignominy of having to indulge baffling dialects. But there were plenty of other issues. Mainly that it was just profoundly dull; a dispute over drug-selling territory between various London rogues which seemed a bit basic.
Given the degree to which she provokes the ire of certain ostentatiously enraged commentators, it’s almost tempting to applaud the Duchess of Sussex’s various forays into twee lifestyle as deliberate statements. But then you watch them and are forced to admit that in this case, they might have a point. It’s like watching a homeware catalogue animated; a meme for wine o’clock with delusions of grandeur; a procession of snoozing dogs, humming beehives, sentimental sayings and pointless crafting “hacks” you’ll not remember instantly. All supported by vast, largely undeserved wealth. Ugh.
There are obviously interesting things to be said about both Victoria Beckham and her journey with vocation, identity, self-worth. But for some reason, this documentary series opted not to say them. Rather, the viewing was like consuming a marketing catalogue. She obviously has good reason to resent what she describes as her “miserable cow” image. But sadly, she failed to do herself any helps with this guarded letdown of a series.
It had the potential to be the next cultural phenomenon – except even camper, with a famous star playing dead and a well-known personality overseeing her inheritance. What more could you ask for? As players battled it out, there was plenty of betrayal and squabbling. But the rules quickly became incomprehensible: it’s still too confusing to explain what precisely was happening. Even more disappointingly, we only saw brief appearances of the star via filmed videos. The series ended up reeking of a programme that was straining desperately to live up to something way beyond it.
How does one follow a show that captured a generation? The expectation was enormous for this starry romcom about Jessica, a hopeful New Yorker who arrives 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 ideals. But it was all very glossy and, paradoxically, was not enough. Plus, the abundance of famous cameos involved felt uncomfortable.
Not even good enough to be ‘patchy’.
Given the smart inclusion of talented younger comics, expectations were high. But unhappily, most of it fell flat. A recurring sketch was a single joke stretched to a husk but recurring in every episode. One star seemed too willing to slip into a familiar ranting mode. The writing room sketches, in contrast, simply provoked the idea 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 exclusively showcased the viewpoint of Amanda Knox. So, while there probably is an compelling drama to be made about the tragic 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 oddly breezy, somewhat mannered farce to ultimately, real-life horror. Complex? Arguably. A total mess? Absolutely.
We admire the star … but did we buy him playing the greatest maths genius in history, a man so intelligent he’s on the verge of a discovery that could ruin society? No! This international thriller about government agencies spying on – and eliminating – academics honestly got more farcical by the second. Formulaic nonsense.
This hagiography followed the content creator renowned for sexual exploits as she undertook her most extreme challenge yet. What on earth would motivate her? What we craved was far greater examination of her true psyche, plus those of the men in the line. They could at least have spoken to the legendary mum who showed up to haul her son out of the queue. What we got was horrific shots and absolutely no interrogation of her infamy whatsoever. And to think, the filmmaker has a young daughter too.