Looking back, we consider the television offerings of the past year, a handful of shows stand out not for their brilliance, but for their spectacular shortcomings. Ranging from cringe-inducing sequels to confusingly poor docuseries, here are the productions that left us scratching our heads or simply reaching for the remote.
Where to begin with this love/hate follow-up? Burdened with woeful writing, painful character development (we demand better for Miranda!), and a mere 71 seconds of fan-favourite Samantha, the series fought to justify its existence. For a moment, as the third season began, it seemed as if it had at last found its groove. Then arrived an episode centered on Seemaâs natural deodorant. No wonder the creator announced this would be the last series. It ended on a bum note; the lingering shot of Mirandaâs toilet full of poo was just way too symbolic. Yet, viewers undeniably had a hoot dissecting every single âwhat on earth?â episode. And as Carrie â once again single â danced around her sprawling townhouse to Barry White, who couldn't let out a little sob?
âCan Kim Kardashian act? Of course she canât.â
But that was almost the least of this show's problems. The recipient of a exceedingly uncommon no-star assessment, it was hard to know where to start enumerating the flaws. The hilariously leaden dialogue? The mind-numbing glorification of wealth and consumption? The almost wilful procession of tropes? Performances so poor they felt almost malicious? Suffice it to say âeach and every oneâ and never speak of this show again. However, a new season has been ordered, so weâre likely going to have to.
Considering the restraining orders, domestic violence allegations and fatherly shortcomings, itâs reasonable to say Charlie Sheen has been a bad boy. Not youâd truly have gleaned it from this three-part docuseries which chuckled along at Sheenâs various bouts of reckless excess while failing to tell us anything we didnât already know. Instead, it felt as if this volatile personality was being indulged, so any pity this series might evoke should be reserved for the people who have had to endure close contact with this charming but flippant egotist.
Naturally we knew it was ridiculous from the get-go: a thriller about a AI 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 cared when his character died, and the other ended up slicing Charlie with an axe ⌠in super slow-motion. Talk about giving up the ghost.
Dodgy figures meeting in deserted boxing gyms? The Prodigyâs Firestarter blaring in club scenes? The late 90s called and wants its crime 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 didnât suffer the ignominy of having to indulge unconvincing dialects. But there were plenty of other problems. Primarily that it was just really boring; a conflict over drug-selling territory between various London rogues 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 deliberate statements. But then you view them and are compelled to admit that actually, they might have a point. Itâs like watching a homeware catalogue animated; a meme for wine oâclock with ideas of grandeur; a procession of sleeping dogs, buzzing beehives, sentimental platitudes and forgettable crafting âtipsâ youâll forget instantly. All supported by vast, largely undeserved wealth. Ugh.
There are clearly fascinating things to be discussed about regarding Victoria Beckham and her struggles with vocation, self-image, self-acceptance. But for some reason, this documentary series opted not to explore them. Instead, the experience was like reading a marketing brochure. She clearly has every right to resent what she describes as her âmiserable cowâ image. But sadly, she didnât do herself any favours with this guarded non-event of a series.
It should have been the next cultural phenomenon â except even more extravagant, with a glamorous star playing dead and a well-known personality managing her inheritance. What more could you want? As contestants battled it out, there was plenty of backstabbing and squabbling. But the rules quickly became incomprehensible: itâs still too confusing to detail what precisely was happening. Even more regrettably, we only saw brief appearances of the star via filmed videos. The show ended up reeking of a production that was straining desperately to emulate something way beyond 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 broken heart. The lead actress took her biggest role by the horns and was joyous to watch, reveling in Jane Austen levels of romantic notions. But it was all very slick and, ironically, was not enough. Plus, the sheer amount of famous friends involved felt icky.
Not good enough to be âpatchyâ.
Given the shrewd inclusion of talented younger comics, expectations were high. But unhappily, most of it didnât land. A particular sketch was a single joke stretched to a husk but recurring in every episode. One star seemed too ready to slip into a well-known ranting mode. The writing room sketches, in contrast, simply provoked the thought that they should probably have remained in there a bit longer.
This retelling of the story of Amanda Knox was overseen by Amanda Knox and pretty much solely presented the viewpoint of Amanda Knox. So, while there undoubtedly is an compelling drama to be made about the horrific 2007 murder, this was not it. The material needed to be treated with care. Rather, the series struggled painfully to find the right voice, lumbering from strangely breezy, somewhat mannered farce to ultimately, real-life horror. Complex? Arguably. A complete mess? Absolutely.
We admire the star ⌠but did we buy him playing the most brilliant 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 spying on â and killing off â academics frankly got more farcical by the second. Formulaic nonsense.
This hagiography followed the online personality notorious for sexual exploits as she prepared for her biggest challenge yet. What on earth would motivate her? What we craved was way more examination of her true psyche, plus those of the men in the line. They could at least have interviewed the legendary mum who appeared to haul her son out of the queue. What we got was disturbing shots and zero critical analysis of her notoriety whatsoever. And to think, the filmmaker has a young daughter too.
A tech journalist and digital strategist with over a decade of experience covering UK innovation and startup ecosystems.