Looking back, we reflect on the television landscape of the past year, a selection of series emerge not for their brilliance, but for their notable failures. From awkward sequels to confusingly poor docuseries, here are the programmes that had us utterly bewildered or just reaching for the remote.
How to start with this love/hate follow-up? Plagued with woeful writing, cringe-inducing arcs (justice for Miranda!), and a paltry 71 seconds of fan-favourite Samantha, the show struggled to find its footing. For a moment, as the final series started, it seemed as if it had at last found its groove. Then came an installment all about Seemaâs natural deodorant. No wonder the creator declared this would be the last series. It ended on a bum note; the lingering shot of Mirandaâs loo full of poo was simply too symbolic. Still, fans undeniably had a hoot dissecting every single âwhat on earth?â episode. And as Carrie â a single woman once more â danced around her sprawling townhouse to Barry White, who couldn't let out a small sob?
âCan Kim Kardashian act? Of course she canât.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 flaws. The laughably leaden dialogue? The tedious glorification of affluence and materialism? The seemingly deliberate parade of cliches? Performances so poor they felt almost malicious? Suffice it to say âeach and every oneâ and forget about this series again. However, a second 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 youâd really have known it from this three-part docuseries which chuckled along at Sheenâs various bouts of self-destructive hedonism while struggling to tell us a single thing we didnât already know. Rather, it felt as if this volatile personality was being indulged, so any pity this series might induce should be reserved for the people who have had to endure close contact with this charming but dismissive narcissist.
Of course we knew it was ridiculous from the outset: a drama about a supercomputer known as Charlie Big Potatoes that could either solve global crises â or destroy all of humanity. We stuck with it out of sheer love for its leads ⌠but by the end, it felt like even they had given up trying. One scarcely reacted when his character died, and the other ended up hacking Charlie with an axe ⌠in super slow-motion. That's what you call admitting defeat.
Dodgy figures meeting in empty boxing gyms? A certain band's Firestarter jackhammering away in club scenes? The late 90s called and demands its crime drama back.
In truth, that is unfair on the gangland dramas of the late 90s. Many look a little dated now, but at least they didnât endure the ignominy of having to indulge unconvincing 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 rather simplistic.
Considering the degree to which she provokes the ire of the nationâs performatively enraged commentators, itâs almost easy to applaud the Duchess of Sussexâs various forays into twee lifestyle as intentional provocations. But then you view them and are compelled to admit that actually, they may have a point. Itâs like watching a homeware catalogue animated; a poster for wine oâclock with ideas of grandeur; a procession of snoozing dogs, buzzing beehives, Hallmark platitudes and pointless crafting âhacksâ youâll forget instantly. All supported by immense, largely undeserved wealth. Ugh.
There are clearly fascinating things to be discussed about both Victoria Beckham and her journey with vocation, identity, self-acceptance. But for some reason, this three-part series chose not to explore them. Rather, the experience was like reading a sales brochure. She obviously has good reason to bridle at what she describes as her âsternâ image. But sadly, she didnât do herself any favours with this guarded letdown of a series.
It had the potential to be the next big hit â except even more extravagant, with a glamorous star as a deceased benefactor and a well-known personality managing her inheritance. What more could you ask for? As players competed, there was plenty of backstabbing and squabbling. But the rules quickly became bewildering: itâs still too complicated to explain what exactly was happening. Even more regrettably, we only saw glimpses 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 do you succeed 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 broken heart. The star seized the opportunity by the horns and was joyous to watch, embodying Austen levels of romantic notions. But it was all very slick and, ironically, was insufficient. Plus, the abundance of celebrity friends involved felt uncomfortable.
Not even good enough to be âpatchyâ.
Given the smart recruitment of talented emerging comics, expectations were high. But unhappily, most of it didnât land. A recurring sketch was a single joke stretched to a dry pulp but recurring in every episode. One star seemed too ready to slip into a well-known irate mode. The writing room sketches, meanwhile, simply inspired the idea 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 exclusively showcased the viewpoint of Amanda Knox. So, while there probably is an compelling drama to be made about the tragic 2007 murder, this was not it. The subject matter needed to be handled with care. Instead, the series struggled painfully to find the right tone, lumbering from strangely breezy, somewhat stylised farce to inevitably, real-life horror. Twisted? 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 intelligent heâs on the verge of a breakthrough that could ruin society? Nope! This international thriller about government agencies targeting â and killing off â intellectuals honestly got more absurd by the second. Formulaic nonsense.
This hagiography followed the online personality notorious for explicit exploits as she prepared for her biggest challenge yet. What on earth would possess her? What we craved was far greater examination of her true psychology, plus those of the men in the queue. They could at least have spoken to the legendary mum who showed up to drag her son away from the queue. What we got was horrific shots and absolutely no interrogation of her infamy whatsoever. It's staggering to consider, the filmmaker has a teenage daughter too.
Elara Vance is a seasoned business analyst with over a decade of experience covering international markets and industrial transformations.