As we reflect on the television landscape of the recent year, a selection of series stand out not for their excellence, but for their notable shortcomings. Ranging from awkward sequels to confusingly bad docuseries, here are the productions that left us scratching our heads or just reaching for the remote.
How to start with this love/hate follow-up? Burdened with dreadful writing, painful arcs (justice for Miranda!), and a paltry 71 seconds of fan-favourite Samantha, the show fought to find its footing. Briefly, as the third season began, it looked like it had finally hit its stride. Then came an episode centered on Seemaâs natural deodorant. No wonder the creator declared this would be the last series. It concluded on a bum note; the closeup of Mirandaâs loo full of poo was just way too on-the-nose. Still, fans certainly had a hoot picking apart every single âwhat on earth?â episode. And as Carrie â once again single â danced around her palatial townhouse to Barry White, who couldn't let out a small sob?
âIs Kim Kardashian an actress? The answer is a resounding no.â
But that was almost the smallest of this drama's issues. The subject of a exceedingly uncommon zero star review, it was hard to know where to begin listing the problems. The hilariously wooden writing? The mind-numbing veneration of wealth and materialism? The seemingly wilful procession of tropes? Acting so bad they felt borderline malicious? Letâs just say âall of the aboveâ and never speak of this show again. Except, a new season has been commissioned, so weâre likely going to have to.
Considering the legal troubles, abuse claims and parental shortcomings, itâs reasonable to say Charlie Sheen has been a bad boy. Not youâd really have known it from this multi-part documentary which smirked its way at Sheenâs various episodes of reckless excess while failing to tell us a single thing we didnât already know. Rather, it felt as if this loose cannon was being indulged, so any sympathy this series might induce should be saved for the people who have had to suffer close contact with this charismatic but flippant egotist.
Naturally we understood it was ridiculous from the get-go: a thriller about a supercomputer known as Charlie Big Potatoes that could either save the world â or annihilate all of humanity. We stuck with it out of pure love for its leads ⌠but by the end, it felt like even they had given up trying. One barely cared when his character died, and the other ultimately slicing Charlie with an axe ⌠in painfully slow-motion. Talk about admitting defeat.
Dodgy characters convening in deserted boxing gyms? The Prodigyâs Firestarter blaring in club scenes? The late 90s called and wants its gangland drama back.
In truth, that is unfair on the crime shows of the late 90s. Many seem a bit old-fashioned now, but at least they didnât endure the embarrassment of having to accommodate baffling accents. But there were plenty of other issues. Mainly that it was just really dull; a dispute over narcotics territory between various London rogues which seemed a bit basic.
Given the extent to which she grinds the gears of the nationâs ostentatiously angry commentators, itâs temptingly easy to applaud the Duchess of Sussexâs various ventures into twee 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 lifestyle catalogue animated; a poster for evening drinks with ideas of grandeur; a procession of sleeping dogs, buzzing beehives, sentimental platitudes and pointless crafting âhacksâ youâll not remember instantly. All supported by immense, mostly undeserved wealth. Ugh.
There are obviously fascinating things to be said about both Victoria Beckham and her struggles with vocation, self-image, self-acceptance. But for some reason, this three-part series opted not to explore them. Instead, the viewing was like reading a sales catalogue. She obviously has good reason to resent what she describes as her âsternâ image. But sadly, she failed to do herself any helps with this cagey letdown of a series.
It should have been the next cultural phenomenon â except even camper, with a famous star playing dead and a well-known personality overseeing her inheritance. What more could you want? As players competed, there was plenty of backstabbing and squabbling. But the rules quickly became bewildering: itâs even now too confusing to explain what exactly was happening. Even more disappointingly, we only saw glimpses of the star via filmed videos. The series ended up reeking of a programme that was trying way too hard to live up to something way beyond it.
How does one follow a show that captured a generation? The expectation was immense for this glitzy romantic comedy about Jessica, a hopeful New Yorker who arrives in London with a shattered romance. The lead actress took her biggest role by the horns and was joyous to watch, embodying Austen levels of romantic ideals. But it was all very slick and, ironically, was not enough. Plus, the sheer amount of famous friends involved felt uncomfortable.
Not good enough to be âpatchyâ.
Given the smart recruitment of gifted emerging comics, expectations were high. But unhappily, most of it didnât land. A recurring sketch was a one-note joke milked to a husk but recurring in every episode. One star seemed too willing to slip into a familiar ranting mode. The behind-the-scenes sketches, in contrast, simply provoked the idea that they should probably have remained in there a while 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 undoubtedly is an interesting drama to be made about the tragic 2007 murder, this was not it. The subject matter needed to be handled sensitively. Rather, the series laboured awkwardly to find the right voice, lumbering from strangely jaunty, somewhat stylised farce to ultimately, real-life horror. Complex? Perhaps. 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 discovery that could destabilise society? Nope! This globe-trotting thriller about government agencies targeting â and killing off â academics frankly got more farcical by the second. Silliness-by-numbers.
This uncritical portrait followed the online personality notorious for sexual escapades as she prepared for her biggest challenge yet. What on earth would possess her? What we wanted was way more examination of her true psychology, plus those of the men in the queue. They could at least have interviewed the now-famous mum who appeared to haul her son out of the queue. What we got was horrific imagery and absolutely no interrogation of her notoriety whatsoever. And to think, the filmmaker has a teenage daughter too.
Elara Vance is a UK-based astrophysicist and science communicator with over a decade of experience writing about space and technology.