While we always judge a film or show on what it is, rather than what we wanted or expected it to be, there are some that simply fall short of the mark. This could be a lack of substance, the mishandling of source material, or a fall from grace so hard that the top spot was claimed before autumn even began.
They may not be the worst things released into cinemas and onto our streamers this year, but they're certainly lacking in satisfaction. There are our picks for the 10 most disappointing films and television shows this year.
And as a tonic, be sure to read about Exclaim!'s favourite films, TV and music of 2024 here.
10. Good Grief
Directed by Dan Levy
(Netflix)
Schitt's Creek was always going to be a difficult project to follow up. A critically acclaimed and awarded series, the Roses proved themselves to be a beloved family around the world — and, most of all, Schitt's Creek stood for something greater than itself. Given how boldly progressive Dan Levy's approach to the series was, I didn't expect Levy to play things safe on his directorial feature debut. Good Grief has its moments of biting humour and heartfelt connections, and while that may be enough for a Netflix movie to throw on while doing the dishes, we know Levy can bring so much more to the table.
Rachel Ho
9. Drive-Away Dolls
Directed by Ethan Coen
(Focus Features)
When musicians in successful bands attempt to branch out solo, the results can be misguided passion projects, downright failures or unmitigated successes. Drive-Away Dolls somehow exemplifies parts of all three (some parts more than others). While the acting is top-notch (Margaret Qualley in everything forever, thank you very much), the tone is off, the writing inconsistent and the direction unremarkable, bordering on bland. Not terrible but nowhere close to great, the film embodies mediocrity with its clunky, insecure execution. In the end, it all comes across as derivative Coen Brothers worship, rather than a film made by an actual Coen Brother.
Marko Djurdjic
8. Ripley
Created by Steven Zaillian
(Netflix)
I'm the minority on this one, so much so that I went and revisited the first few episodes of the series after seeing the outpouring of love for Ripley (and 13 Emmy nominations later). Aside from the gorgeous cinematography and a sharp performance from Andrew Scott, I still don't "get" it. The story of The Talented Mr. Ripley holds such power in literature and in film for its sexiness, greed, anger and deceit. Netflix's Ripley, though, is simply a mere imitation of its source material that doesn't quite land the beats that made the story such a success in the first place.
Rachel Ho
7. The Crow
Directed by Rupert Sanders
(Elevation Pictures)
It's a good thing Bill Skarsgård has Nosferatu coming out at the end of the year — it'll be a good distraction from his participation in Rupert Sanders's third attempt to make a movie. Billed not only as an adaptation of James O'Barr's successful underground graphic novel The Crow, but also as a reboot of The Crow film series, Sanders's film can best be described as "something that exists." But as physical media becomes more and more a disappearing form, even this status as "extant" is uncertain. The film was always doomed to comparison with the 1994 cult classic of the same name starring Brandon Lee, a film with a devoted following that even O'Barr loves. Sanders's take on O'Barr's touching tale is anemic and senseless — attempts to reinvigorate the story mean a needlessly convoluted plot, leaving the whole endeavour feeling like a cobbled and vivisected monster. But more than anything, it's very obviously a cash grab coming to us at a time when IP has been mined to hell and back; it makes sense then, that this soulless attempt is itself emotionally bankrupt. Maybe it ought to be forgotten.
Alisha Mughal
6. The Regime
Created by Will Tracy
(Crave)
Kate Winslet's previous HBO show, Mare of Eastown, was a gritty cop drama that was one of the best shows of 2021. But any excitement about her next team-up with the network was quickly deposed by The Regime, a series simply too irritating to add anything meaningful to 2024's sadly-relevant discourse about totalitarianism. Awkwardly mashing up slapstick satire with decidedly unfunny subplots about self-harm and child abuse, the over-the-top wackiness (ah, that famous "dry British wit") undermines The Regime's attempts at political intrigue.
Alex Hudson
5. Kinds of Kindness
Directed by Yorgos Lanthimos
(Searchlight Pictures)
This malicious trifecta of mirthless, meandering sketches stacks up gestures of devotion and degradation that amount to little beyond artistic brand management. A blatant bid to reassert Yorgos Lanthimos's reputation for the outré after his brand of weirdness became a prestige norm (The Favourite and Poor Things received a combined 21 Oscar nominations), Kinds of Kindness troublingly clarifies its maker's interests and priorities. The film's shallow and shameless fascination with rape and domestic abuse (which rear their ugly heads in every segment with hideous resilience) puts the libidinal liberation of Poor Things' Bella Baxter in a clearer light. Where that film, for better or worse, showed the potential for this filmmaker to loosen the stranglehold he keeps on his characters, Kinds of Kindness scrubs its absurdist world of any human strain that might challenge the infrastructure in these elaborate aesthetic prisons.
Alexander Mooney
4. The Beach Boys
Directed by Frank Marshall and Thom Zimny
(Disney)
Amidst the sad news that Brian Wilson has been placed under a court-ordered conservatorship due to a "major neurocognitive disorder (such as dementia)," The Beach Boys is an insult to his legacy. Glossing over the personal struggles of the band's most important songwriter and unconvincingly attempting to argue that the other members are equally important to their greatness (they aren't), this authorized doc feels like an attempt to rewrite the band's story in a way that better suits certain loudmouth participants.
Alex Hudson
3. Joker: Folie à Deux
Directed by Todd Phillips
(Warner Bros. Pictures)
Some time into Joker: Folie à Deux, my eyes just completely rolled over. There, amongst the legions of VFX workers, journalists and mostly fans, I saw who the movie was for: a white, 20-something dressed in Joker's garb with his head in his hands and shaking with disappointment.
Todd Phillips's 139-minute-long middle finger to Joker fans is not unwarranted. I'd raise my favourite finger, too, if given the chance, but there are better things to do than idolize a soppy clown or torture his legions of admirers. For Phillips, the latter option seems to be the only way out. But making a movie that feels deliberately bad, as if Phillips were stooping to the supposed level of the audience he seems to hold in contempt, is corny as hell. Capital punishment is a war crime, and Folie à Deux is guilty.
Nathan Chizen
2. MaXXXine
Directed by Ti West
(VVS Films)
Ti West's MaXXXine is a cautionary tale of the inanity rendered by prioritizing style at the expense of substance. The film, which follows the career of Mia Goth's Maxine Minx as she works toward mainstream fame in 1980s Hollywood, is certainly visually captivating. West renders Reaganite Hollywood in plush reds and jewel blues, plunging headlong into the aesthetic of exploitation films in an effort to say, effectively, "Hollywood's underbelly was seedy" — a grand and meaningless thesis offered without nuance. There is a lot of potential here, many beginnings of interesting ideas about gender, violence and art, but none of them are pursued. Over the span of the film, West merely throws a pile of cultural and historical references in our faces with no other aim than to show off his knowledge of the past. We're left with a bloated, unfocused and meaningless work that wastes Goth's talents and does a disservice to audiences' investment in the series.
Alisha Mughal
1. The Bear, Season 3
Created by Christopher Storer
(Disney)
The Bear's transcendent first two seasons set a near-impossible bar for Season 3 to clear — but these latest 10 episodes are shockingly flavourless. Lacking any notable plot points or character development, it drifts from one capsule episode to the next; redundant flashbacks and inane montages drag on and on, the usually-charming Matty Matheson won't shut up about "haunting," and the standard-fare "fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou" bickering has become tedious rather than tense. The characters spend much of the season stressing out about an incoming review, which is strangely appropriate, given how the show itself was greeted with a resounding "huh…" It leaves viewers desperate for next year's fourth season — not because Season 3 was so good, but because it was so unsatisfying that we're famished for something more substantial.
Alex Hudson