Looking back, we reflect on the television offerings of the recent year, a handful of shows stand out not for their brilliance, but for their spectacular failures. Ranging from awkward spin-offs to bafflingly bad docuseries, here are the programmes that had us utterly bewildered or simply reaching for the remote.
How to start with this love/hate follow-up? Plagued with dreadful writing, cringe-inducing arcs (justice for Miranda!), and a mere 71 seconds of beloved Samantha, the series fought to find its footing. Briefly, as the third series started, it looked like it had finally hit its stride. Then came an installment all about Seemaās natural deodorant. No wonder the showrunner announced this would be the last season. It concluded on a bum note; the closeup of Mirandaās loo flooded with poo was simply too on-the-nose. Yet, viewers undeniably found joy picking apart every single āwhat on earth?ā episode. And as Carrie ā a single woman once more ā twirled around her sprawling townhouse to Barry White, who didnāt release a small sob?
āCan Kim Kardashian act? Of course she canāt.ā
But that was almost the least of this drama's issues. The subject of a exceedingly uncommon zero star review, it was difficult to know where to start enumerating the problems. The hilariously wooden dialogue? The mind-numbing veneration of wealth and consumption? The seemingly deliberate parade of cliches? Acting so poor they felt borderline malicious? Letās just say āall of the aboveā and forget about this show again. However, a second season has been ordered, so weāre probably going to have to.
Considering the restraining orders, domestic violence allegations and fatherly shortcomings, itās reasonable to say Charlie Sheen has been a troubled figure. Not that youād really have known it from this three-part documentary which chuckled along at Sheenās various bouts of reckless hedonism while failing to tell us anything we didnāt already know. Instead, it felt as if this volatile personality was being indulged, so any sympathy this series might induce should be reserved for the people who have had to suffer close contact with this charismatic but flippant narcissist.
Of course we knew it was preposterous from the get-go: a drama about a AI known as Charlie Big Potatoes that could either solve global crises ā or destroy all of humanity. We persevered out of pure admiration 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 ended up hacking Charlie with an axe ⦠in painfully slow-motion. Talk about giving up the ghost.
Shady figures convening in deserted boxing gyms? The Prodigyās Firestarter blaring in club scenes? The late 90s called and demands its crime drama back.
Actually, that is unfair on the crime shows of the late 90s. Many look a bit old-fashioned now, but at least they didnāt suffer the embarrassment of having to indulge baffling dialects. But there were plenty of other problems. Mainly that it was just profoundly dull; a conflict over drug-selling territory between various London rogues which felt a bit basic.
Given the degree to which she provokes the ire of the nationās performatively angry commentators, itās almost easy to admire the Duchess of Sussexās various forays into quaint homemaking as intentional statements. But then you view them and are compelled to concede that actually, they may have a point. Itās like watching a lifestyle catalogue come to life; a poster for evening drinks with ideas of grandeur; a parade of snoozing dogs, buzzing beehives, sentimental platitudes and pointless crafting ātipsā youāll not remember instantly. All underpinned by immense, largely unearned wealth. Ugh.
There are clearly interesting things to be said about regarding Victoria Beckham and her struggles with vocation, self-image, self-acceptance. But for some reason, this documentary series opted not to say them. Rather, the viewing was like reading a sales brochure. She clearly has every right to bridle at what she describes as her āsternā image. But unfortunately, she failed to do herself any favours with this guarded non-event of a series.
It had the potential to be the next cultural phenomenon ā except even camper, with a glamorous star as a deceased benefactor and a well-known personality managing her estate. What more could you want? As contestants battled it out, there was plenty of backstabbing and squabbling. But the rules quickly became bewildering: itās still too complicated to explain what precisely was happening. Even more disappointingly, we only saw brief appearances of the star via prerecorded videos. The show 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 enormous for this glitzy romcom about Jessica, a rosy-eyed New Yorker who lands in London with a shattered romance. The lead actress seized the opportunity 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 insufficient. Plus, the sheer amount of famous friends involved felt uncomfortable.
Not even good enough to be āunevenā.
Given the shrewd recruitment of gifted younger comics, expectations were high. But sadly, most of it didnāt land. A particular sketch was a single joke stretched to a dry pulp but repeated in every episode. One star seemed too ready to slip into a familiar irate 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 overseen by Amanda Knox and pretty much exclusively presented the perspective of Amanda Knox. So, while there undoubtedly is an interesting drama to be made about the horrific 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 oddly breezy, somewhat mannered farce to ultimately, real-life horror. Complex? Arguably. A complete mess? Absolutely.
We love the star ⦠but did we believe him playing the greatest maths genius in history, a man so smart heās on the brink of a breakthrough that could destabilise society? No! This globe-trotting thriller about government agencies spying on ā and killing off ā intellectuals honestly got more farcical by the second. Silliness-by-numbers.
This uncritical portrait followed the content creator renowned for explicit escapades as she undertook her most extreme challenge yet. What on earth would motivate her? What we craved was way more interrogation of her true psychology, plus those of the men in the queue. They could at least have interviewed the now-famous mum who showed up to drag her son away from the queue. What we got was horrific shots and zero critical analysis of her infamy whatsoever. And to think, the documentary-maker has a teenage daughter too.
A seasoned sports analyst and casino reviewer with over a decade of experience in the Canadian gambling industry.