2022 In Review: The 10 Worst Shows

Even in this banner year for scripted television, there are 10 shows that will find nothing but lumps of coal in their stockings at Christmas.

As our Year in Review continues — and on the heels of our adoration for the year's 20 best shows — we're drafting our own naughty list for the series that were particularly bad in 2022.

Below, you'll find a mix of broadcast and streaming duds, which committed a wide range of offenses during their runs. Some, like Apple TV+'s female-centric anthology Roar, were a case of sadly wasted potential. (How does one manage to make a woman's romance with a talking duck boring?!) Others, we admit, seemed destined for a spot on this list as soon as their loglines were announced, like in the case of CBS' pedestrian sitcom How We Roll.

Netflix, which had more series end this year than any other streamer, also claims the highest number of entries on our Bottom 10, with First Kill, Partner Track and Blockbuster all debuting with weak freshman seasons. But does our No. 1 pick for the year's worst show hail from Netflix, or elsewhere? Keep scrolling to find out.

Still to come in TVLine's Year in Review: Biggest Plot Twists, Sexiest Scenes, Character Deaths That Nearly Killed Us, Shocking Cast Exits, Best and Worst Weddings and much, much more!

With a high-caliber cast led by the creative minds behind GLOW, Apple TV+'s anthology series should have been a can't-miss event. Insecure's Issa Rae as a disappearing writer? GLOW's Betty Gilpin as a trophy wife literally kept on a shelf? The Undoing's Nicole Kidman as a woman who eats photographs? Nurse Jackie's Merritt Wever as a woman who gets involved with a talking duck? Sounds amazingly bizarre, right? Unfortunately — and we're still not sure how —the assorted episodes were some of the most boring TV made this year.

When people on the Internet voice their disdain for multi-cams, shows like How We Roll are the reason why. CBS' midseason comedy about a working-class dad pursuing his dream of professional bowling would have probably enjoyed a five- or six-season run in the late '90s, sandwiched between Everybody Loves Raymond and The King of Queens. But viewers have come to expect more from their comedies than "Ma gets stuck in a laundry basket." The Pete Holmes vehicle never rose above that kind of hackneyed storytelling.

We had our doubts about this country music sudser when Fox inexplicably yanked it from the schedule two weeks before it was supposed to premiere earlier this year, but we still gave it the benefit of the doubt, hoping it might fill that Nashville-shaped hole in our DVRs. Alas, neither the show's predictable murder mystery nor its low-stakes family conflict struck a chord with us. Having the characters perform mostly covers, as opposed to original music, also made it hard to care about their career aspirations. But perhaps Monarch's greatest misstep was billing itself as a Susan Sarandon-led series, only to kill her character off in the premiere and bring her back for random, inconsequential flashbacks. If she didn't feel like sticking around, why should we?

Sometimes there's just no avoiding the sophomore slump. Season 1 of this novel adaptation was feisty and fun, so imagine our disappointment when Season 2 served up meandering B-stories, a neutered villain and a complete lack of laughs. Though Hazel's sacrifice to help save her dad was an honorable one, her re-entry into the Hub lost its luster. Simply put: It should've been a miniseries that quit while it was ahead.

Talk about a waste of talented actors. Even Morena Baccarin, Ryan Michelle Bathé and Costa Ronin couldn't save NBC's nonsensical cat-and-mouse thriller from devolving into an exposition-heavy mess that seemed more concerned with setting up ridiculous riddles than crafting a well-told story and fully rounded characters. (We dare you to tell us anything about Val except that she's an FBI agent.) Looking back, Baccarin's fabulous wardrobe on the show is the only positive thing that stands out.

Given its catchy premise — a forbidden romance between a vampire and a slayer — we had high hopes for this show. But even with a talented team behind it, including showrunner Felicia D. Henderson (Empire, the original Gossip Girl), none of the elements came together cohesively. Leading ladies Sarah Catherine Hook and Imani Lewis were perfectly fine, but it was the subpar writing, juvenile fight sequences and laughable CGI that left us utterly disappointed.

The sequel series isn't quite as bad as The Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause — but then again, what is? Its charms wear off quickly, and you're left with Tim Allen kvetching that no one's allowed to say "Merry Christmas" anymore. It's a shame, really, since the original 1994 movie remains a holiday classic. But this overstuffed miniseries lacks the heart of that first film, and struggles to justify its existence as a six-episode TV show versus a 90-minute movie.

If not the worst, it's at least the most disappointing. Despite hailing from Brooklyn Nine-Nine and Superstore scribe Vanessa Ramos, and starring Randall Park and Melissa Fumero, this workplace comedy didn't work on any level. The leads didn't gel (which is a must when you're trying to sell them as The Next Great Sitcom Couple) and the supporting cast felt like an afterthought. Even worse, all the pop culture references — with the exception of that unexpectedly timely James Corden joke — were extremely dated, and barely focused on film despite, ya know, the show being set inside a movie rental store.

The Netflix drama's trailer had a Bold Type-esque vibe, so we were expecting a fun, light series with a welcome diverse female lead in Arden Cho. What we got instead was a stilted and charmless show with a main character who was difficult to root for. Cho's Ingrid was a terrible friend and girlfriend, stuck in a series of chemistry-free relationships. Outside of the cute romance between Ingrid's best friend and her paralegal, there's not much we'll miss about Partner Track.

Prime Video's dumb and dreary military thriller, starring Chris Pratt as a Navy SEAL team leader who uncovers a deadly government conspiracy, served up a heaping plate of bloody, jingoistic red meat. Which would be fine if the story were even the slightest bit interesting. Instead, the plot was hopelessly bewildering, and the dialogue was woefully generic, sucking all the charm out of charismatic actors like Pratt and Taylor Kitsch. If we were drafted to watch a Season 2, we might go AWOL.