As we consider the television landscape of the recent year, a selection of series emerge not for their excellence, but for their spectacular failures. From awkward spin-offs to bafflingly bad documentaries, here are the programmes that had us utterly bewildered or just reaching for the remote.
How to start with this love/hate spin-off? Plagued with dreadful writing, cringe-inducing arcs (justice for Miranda!), and a paltry 71 seconds of beloved Samantha, the show struggled to justify its existence. Briefly, as the third series began, it looked like it had at last hit its stride. Then arrived an episode centered on Seema’s natural deodorant. No wonder the showrunner declared this would be the last season. It concluded on a bum note; the lingering shot of Miranda’s loo flooded with poo was just way too symbolic. Still, viewers certainly had a hoot dissecting every single “wtf?” episode. And as Carrie – a single woman once more – danced around her palatial townhouse to Barry White, who couldn't release a little 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 exceedingly uncommon no-star assessment, it was difficult to know where to start enumerating the problems. The laughably leaden writing? The tedious glorification of wealth and consumption? The almost deliberate procession of tropes? Acting so poor they felt almost spiteful? Suffice it to say “all of the above” and forget about this series again. However, a second season has been ordered, so we’re probably going to have to.
Considering the restraining orders, domestic violence allegations and parental failures, it’s fair to say Charlie Sheen has been a troubled figure. Not that you’d truly have known it from this three-part docuseries which chuckled along at Sheen’s various episodes of reckless excess while failing to tell us a single thing we didn’t already know. Rather, it felt as if this loose cannon was being pandered to, so any sympathy this series might evoke should be reserved for the people who have had to endure close contact with this charming but flippant narcissist.
Naturally we knew it was ridiculous from the outset: a thriller about a supercomputer known as Charlie Big Potatoes that could either save the world – or destroy all of humanity. We persevered out of pure love for its stars … but by the end, it felt like even they had stopped bothering. One barely cared when his character died, and the other ultimately slicing Charlie with an axe … in painfully slow-motion. Talk about giving up the ghost.
Shady figures convening in empty boxing gyms? The Prodigy’s Firestarter jackhammering away 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 old-fashioned now, but at least they didn’t endure the ignominy of having to indulge baffling dialects. But there were plenty of other problems. Mainly that it was just really dull; a conflict over drug-selling territory between various cockney picaresques which seemed a bit basic.
Considering the degree to which she grinds the gears of the nation’s performatively enraged commentators, it’s temptingly tempting to admire the Duchess of Sussex’s various ventures into twee homemaking as deliberate statements. But then you watch them and are compelled to concede that actually, they may have a point. It’s like watching a lifestyle catalogue come to life; a meme for wine o’clock with delusions of grandeur; a parade of sleeping dogs, humming beehives, sentimental sayings and pointless crafting “tips” you’ll forget instantly. All supported by immense, mostly undeserved wealth. Ugh.
There are obviously interesting things to be discussed about both Victoria Beckham and her journey with career, self-image, self-acceptance. But for whatever reason, this documentary series chose not to explore them. Rather, the experience was like consuming a marketing catalogue. She clearly has every right to bridle at what she describes as her “miserable cow” image. But unfortunately, she failed to do herself any helps with this guarded non-event of a series.
It should have been the next cultural phenomenon – except even more extravagant, with a famous star playing dead and a well-known personality overseeing her estate. What more could you ask for? As players battled it out, there was plenty of backstabbing and squabbling. But the rules quickly became bewildering: it’s even now too confusing to explain what precisely was happening. Even more disappointingly, we only saw glimpses of the star via prerecorded videos. The series ended up smelling of a production that was straining desperately to emulate something way beyond it.
How do you succeed a show that captured a generation? The pressure was immense for this glitzy romantic comedy about Jessica, a hopeful New Yorker who arrives in London with a broken heart. The lead actress took her biggest role by the horns and was a delight to watch, embodying Jane Austen levels of romantic notions. But it was all very slick and, paradoxically, was not enough. Plus, the sheer amount of famous friends involved felt icky.
Not even good enough to be ‘uneven’.
Given the shrewd recruitment of gifted younger comics, expectations were high. But sadly, most of it didn’t land. A particular sketch was a single joke milked to a husk but repeated in every episode. One star seemed too willing to slip into a familiar irate mode. The writing room sketches, in contrast, simply inspired the idea that they should probably have stayed in there a while longer.
This retelling of the story of Amanda Knox was executive produced by Amanda Knox and pretty much solely presented the perspective of Amanda Knox. So, while there undoubtedly is an interesting drama to be made about the tragic 2007 murder, this isn’t it. The material needed to be handled with care. Rather, the series laboured awkwardly to find the right voice, lurching from oddly breezy, slightly mannered farce to ultimately, real-life horror. Complex? Perhaps. A complete mess? Absolutely.
We love the star … but did we believe him playing the most brilliant maths genius in history, a man so smart he’s on the brink of a discovery that could ruin society? Nope! This international thriller about secret services targeting – and eliminating – academics honestly got more absurd by the second. Formulaic nonsense.
This uncritical portrait followed the online personality notorious for explicit escapades as she prepared for her biggest feat yet. What on earth would possess her? What we craved was way more interrogation of her actual psychology, plus those of the men in the queue. They could at least have spoken to the now-famous mum who showed up to drag her son away from the queue. What we got was horrific imagery and zero critical analysis of her infamy whatsoever. It's staggering to consider, the documentary-maker has a young daughter too.