Looking back, we reflect on the TV landscape of the recent year, a handful of series stand out not for their excellence, but for their notable shortcomings. Ranging from cringe-inducing spin-offs to confusingly bad docuseries, here are the productions that had us utterly bewildered or just reaching for the remote.
How to start with this divisive spin-off? Plagued with dreadful scripts, painful character development (justice for Miranda!), and a mere 71 seconds of fan-favourite Samantha, the show fought to find its footing. Briefly, as the final season began, it looked like it had finally hit its stride. Then came an installment centered on Seemaâs natural deodorant. No wonder the creator declared this would be the final series. It ended on a bum note; the lingering shot of Mirandaâs toilet full of poo was simply too on-the-nose. Yet, fans undeniably found joy picking apart every single âwtf?â moment. And as Carrie â once again single â twirled around her palatial townhouse to Barry White, who didnât release a small sob?
âCan Kim Kardashian act? Of course she canât.â
But that was practically the smallest of this show's problems. The recipient of a exceedingly uncommon no-star review, it was hard to know where to start listing the flaws. The hilariously wooden dialogue? The mind-numbing veneration of wealth and consumption? The almost deliberate procession of tropes? Acting so poor they felt borderline malicious? Letâs just say âeach and every oneâ and forget about this series again. Except, a second season has been commissioned, so weâre likely going to have to.
Given the legal troubles, abuse claims and fatherly failures, itâs fair to say Charlie Sheen has been a troubled figure. Not youâd truly have known it from this three-part documentary which smirked its way at Sheenâs various episodes of self-destructive hedonism while failing to tell us a single thing we didnât already know. Instead, it felt as if this volatile personality was being pandered to, so any pity this series might evoke should be reserved for the people who have had to endure close contact with this charismatic but flippant egotist.
Of course we knew it was ridiculous from the get-go: a drama about a AI known as Charlie Big Potatoes that could either save the world â or destroy all of humanity. We persevered out of sheer 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 hacking Charlie with an axe ⌠in painfully slow-motion. That's what you call admitting defeat.
Shady figures meeting 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 suffer the embarrassment of having to indulge unconvincing dialects. But there were many other issues. Mainly that it was just really dull; a dispute over narcotics territory between various London picaresques which felt rather simplistic.
Given the extent to which she grinds the gears of the nationâs performatively enraged commentators, itâs almost tempting to admire the Duchess of Sussexâs various forays into twee homemaking as deliberate provocations. But then you watch them and are forced to admit that actually, they might have a point. Itâs like watching a homeware magazine animated; a meme for evening drinks with delusions of grandeur; a parade of sleeping dogs, humming beehives, sentimental sayings and forgettable crafting âhacksâ youâll forget instantly. All supported by vast, largely unearned wealth. Ugh.
There are obviously interesting things to be discussed about regarding Victoria Beckham and her journey with vocation, identity, self-worth. But for some reason, this three-part series opted not to explore them. Rather, the viewing was like reading a sales catalogue. She clearly has good reason to resent what she describes as her âmiserable cowâ image. But sadly, she didnât do herself any helps with this cagey letdown of a series.
It had the potential to be the next cultural phenomenon â except even more extravagant, with a glamorous star playing dead and a sharp-tongued personality overseeing her inheritance. What more could you want? As contestants competed, there was plenty of backstabbing and squabbling. But the rules quickly became incomprehensible: itâs even now too confusing to explain what precisely was happening. Even more disappointingly, we only saw brief appearances of the star via prerecorded videos. The series ended up reeking of a programme that was straining desperately to emulate something far greater than it.
How do you follow a show that captured a generation? The expectation was enormous for this starry romcom about Jessica, a rosy-eyed New Yorker who arrives in London with a shattered romance. The lead actress seized the opportunity by the horns and was a delight to watch, embodying Austen levels of romantic ideals. But it was all very glossy and, ironically, was not enough. Plus, the sheer amount of famous friends involved felt uncomfortable.
Not good enough to be âpatchyâ.
Given the smart inclusion of talented emerging comics, hopes were high. But sadly, most of it fell flat. A recurring sketch was a single joke stretched to a dry pulp but repeated in every episode. One star seemed too willing to slip into a well-known ranting mode. The behind-the-scenes sketches, meanwhile, simply inspired the thought that they should probably have stayed in there a bit longer.
This dramatisation of the story of Amanda Knox was overseen by Amanda Knox and pretty much solely showcased the viewpoint of Amanda Knox. So, while there probably is an interesting drama to be made about the tragic 2007 murder, this was not it. The subject matter needed to be treated sensitively. Instead, the series laboured awkwardly to find the right tone, lumbering from oddly jaunty, somewhat mannered farce to ultimately, real-life horror. Complex? Arguably. A complete mess? Very much so.
We love the star ⌠but did we buy him playing the most brilliant maths genius since, a man so smart heâs on the brink of a breakthrough that could ruin society? Nope! This international thriller about secret services spying on â and killing off â intellectuals honestly got more absurd by the second. Formulaic nonsense.
This hagiography followed the content creator renowned for explicit exploits as she undertook her biggest feat yet. What on earth would possess her? What we wanted was far greater interrogation of her true psychology, plus those of the men in the line. They could at least have spoken to the now-famous mum who appeared to drag her son away from the queue. What we got was horrific imagery and absolutely no critical analysis of her infamy whatsoever. It's staggering to consider, the documentary-maker has a young daughter too.
Lena Visser is a civil engineer and content writer specializing in foundation technology and sustainable construction practices.