What would arts journalism be without disappointments to rip on? A whole lot less fun, that's for sure. The 2007 television year saw the typical number of bad ideas, weird left turns, and noble efforts that no one wanted to watch.

Here are five shows that left network executives and viewers alike scratching their heads this past year:

Heroes:
You might have to go back to Twin Peaks to find a hot show that cooled off as quickly as Heroes did in its second season. Actually, the dissatisfaction dated back to the final episode of its debut season, with what many fans felt was an anticlimactic confrontation with mega-villain Sylar. The first season was about characters discovering their powers and banding together, but season two began with the heroes again scattered to different parts of the globe, and in one case -- Hiro's inexplicably long detour in 17th century Japan -- to a different period of history entirely.

New characters were introduced to no recognizable purpose, puzzling fans already irritated by the lack of screen time for old favorites. The storyline of Niki, left separate from the main plot thrust all along, was mercifully ended with her (apparent) death. Most felt the final few episodes of the aborted season were a partial return to form, but critical momentum was lost in the process. Many attributed the problems on Heroes to the departure of writer-producer Bryan Fuller, who left to run Pushing Daisies, a show about a guy named Ned who can bring the dead back to life. Maybe Ned could assist Fuller's former show.

John From Cincinnati:
A cable series can't get a much more high-profile debut than this one received: it immediately followed the final episode of The Sopranos (which was not a disappointment, sorry). The wave crashed soon after. Like executive producer David Milch's previous series, the incredible Deadwood, John From Cincinnati was an eccentric product of one man's vision that probably never had a chance to be a true smash.

As near as anyone could tell, the show was about a family of southern California surfers, and the title character who wandered into their lives like the Pied Piper. Milch's track record is phenomenal, and perhaps in time he would have made this into at least a cult hit. But Milch's shows tend to cost a lot of money, and HBO, which had a rough year in general, was not in the mood to give John From Cincinnati the same second chance it gave to the show that succeeded it on Sunday nights, the even lower-rated but much cheaper Tell Me You Love Me. Ironically, Milch's most ardent fans may have been a small part of the problem. There is anecdotal evidence of Deadwood-obsessed fans being so angry about Milch abandoning that show before its natural end that they swore (in true Deadwood fashion, probably literally) to never watch his new series.

24:
This series has limitations imposed by the gimmick in its title: all the action takes place in real time. What seemed revolutionary and exciting in 2001 began to look comically formulaic by the sixth season, which suffered from a profound case of "been there, done that"-itis. Fans could predict that they would see treachery from inside the CTU, or that an early season villain would turn out to be only a front for the late season villain, because that always happens on 24.

One of the key subplots of the season, a use of the 25th Amendment to temporarily depose the President, was a blatant recycling from season two. Suspension of disbelief, always necessary for enjoying a show set in a Los Angeles where no one has ever once been stuck in traffic, became harder than ever: after the explosion of a nuclear bomb in an American suburb the whole country isn't going berserk? The decision to make Jack Bauer's father the season's super villain was yet another mistake. The producers apparently realized they had taken things as far as they could go with the old formula, because the new season of 24, whenever it comes, will take place in a post-CTU world. That's a good start. If the show's star decides to stop breaking the law, that would be nice as well.

Bionic Woman:
The dream for any network is to have a new series that comes pre-sold based on its name, hence all the baby CSIs out there. NBC had high hopes that fond memories of the 1970s version of Bionic Woman would carry over to today. Since shows like this can generate disproportionate fan fervor (Alias stuck around for four years with so-so ratings), it seemed reasonable to assume this would be a hit.

But shows like Alias and Buffy the Vampire Slayer have raised the bar for female-led action and suspense, and it didn't take long for audiences to sense that Bionic Woman wasn't measuring up. Many never warmed to the show's young star Michelle Ryan, and the fact that she kept getting unfavorably compared to Battlestar Galactica veteran Katee Sackhoff, who played the antagonist in a key early plot, was terribly unhelpful. The producers appeared to be flailing about for a foothold, unsure of exactly what tone to take. Given the strength of the brand, it's still possible NBC won't give up on Bionic Woman entirely; the network has no doubt noticed there's an audience for a show like this centered on Sackhoff. This show shares a pedigree with Battlestar Galactica, a critical favorite in its new incarnation. It's surprising the producers got it so wrong when they tried to update a second time.

The Next Great American Band:
Watching this show limp to its conclusion (it ends Friday) has to be terribly humiliating for the people that brought you American Idol (which itself had an off year in 2007). I think I can safely predict that neither the Clark Brothers, Denver and the Mile High Orchestra, or Sixwire will ever be considered a great American band, let alone the next one. And if the names of the last three groups in the competition don't ring a bell, that's the problem right there.

The most anonymous singer ever on Idol is more famous than any of these groups have become, because it's simply easier to relate to the lone voice on the stage and become invested in his or her fate. No one ever truly cared about any of these bands because we never got to know much about them, and the fact that the finalists are all industry veterans who have released full-fledged albums makes them poor underdogs. Clearly not expecting much, Fox buried this show on Friday night. Even by the modest expectations of the time slot, it has been a disaster. The judges and even the music aren't really any worse than we see on Idol, but this was what you would have if you took America's most popular show and got rid of the human interest element that makes it that way.

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