Television : Truth to ‘Power’ – you’re a line of clapped-out cliches

If you missed the first two seasons of Power when they landed on Netflix, let me fill you in briefly: drugs, guns and 50 Cent. That's 50 Cent the rapper, who introduced himself to the world with the words "Go, go, go, go, go, go, go, shawty, it's your birthday", back in 2003.

Fast-forward 30 million album sales and Fifty is no longer a drug dealer turned rapper but a rapper turned actor, director and TV producer. Fifty, who has been charged with failing to play himself convincingly in Jim Sheridan's film Get Rich or Die Tryin', back in 2005, featured in the first two seasons of Power as the revenge-loving drug-dealer Kanan.

In the season-three opener, though, there’s no sign of Fifty. His character is dead. Or is he?

The show, whose episodes land on Netflix each Monday, centres around James St Patrick, aka Ghost, who was a New York drug kingpin but wants out. Instead of settling down with his pipe and slippers he’s determined to become an entrepreneurial, and filthy-rich, nightclub owner.

So Ghost – or James, as he keeps asking everyone to call him – is out of the game and in a serious romance with his first love, Angela Valdes. Valdes (played by Lela Loren, who learned to act by watching old J-Lo movies) just happens to be the federal prosecutor sworn to bringing Ghost to justice. Ah, but going straight is never easy. And there begins the first in an endless line of Power's clapped-out cliches.

The opening sequence sees the couple gazing down on the ground floor of James’s new nightclub, Truth, which looks like the place music goes to die.

Our braless sexy prosecutor grabs her man’s tie to pull him in for a kiss before he gets called off to “take care of business”; tattooed Mexican gangs face off down a dark narrow street; fast-talking bad guys (who always like to eat with their mouths full – blame Guy Ritchie and Brad Pitt) wear black hoodies and symbolic jewellery; cops chase criminals down alleys but never think to look behind the wall before running back to their doughnuts; and moms stay home and fold laundry.

The dialogue is ludicrous and unforgivably lazy – at one point James asks, "You wanna be looking over your shoulder the rest of your life?" – the fight scenes are half-assed and, for a show that should have glitz, swagger and sex appeal, Power feels flat and monotone – the same criticisms levelled at Fifty's acting.

Omari Hardwick is decent as the conflicted James “Ghost” St Patrick; it’s just a pity that the lead character has all the personality of Gap chinos.

What would it be like if we could just start again? That's the big question posed by Eden (Monday, Channel 4), a new back-to-basics reality show. The series aims to challenge "everything about modern living", raising questions about "what we need to be happy and how we are influenced by society". Basically it's Big Brother with naughty goats and gale-force winds.

Eden is the brainchild of Channel 4's head of entertainment, Liam Humphreys, and factual-entertainment commissioning editor, Ian Dunkley, the team who champion "authenticity" and "insightful social experiments", such as The Island with Bear Grylls.

Yet Eden borrows more heavily from the BBC's 2000 reality show Castaway than it does from Grylls. The former filmed a group of 36 men, women and children as they endeavoured to build a community on a remote Scottish island.

Eden follows 23 fit men and women aged between 24 and 55, including a doctor, vet, chef, carpenter and shepherdess, as they attempt to create a "new life" across 250 hectares of land in the Scottish Highlands, over the course of a year. The series is filmed from the inside by an embedded crew of four people, the volunteers' personal GoPros and one of the largest and most remote fixed rigs ever created for television.

In episode one we see the intrepid explorers arrive. Some, like Raphael, a carpenter extraordinaire, and Jenna, a junior doctor, genuinely feel like square pegs in round holes, hoping to escape modern life. Others, such as the hot favourite to be everyone’s least favourite, the beautiful, work-shy yoga instructor Jasmine, probably just needed an extended iPhone break.

With no rules or structure to guide them, some of what they achieve is impressive. Andrew, a plumber, masterfully creates a hot shower, and Stephen, a young chef, creates a fitted kitchen, complete with an oven and grills that wouldn’t be out of place in a hipster barbecue joint.

What’s strangest is that this group of people who were all so eager to flee the rituals of regular life quickly decide on a regular six-hour working day, and all assume the roles they had back home, and show a fondness for regular team meetings. But, towards the end of the first episode, one rogue member threatens the group’s camp mentality and fledgling romances begin.

The question everyone is asking is whether this Eden will become a nirvana or descend into a Lord of the Flies nightmare. A more interesting question is: what would they all do if there were no cameras?

The opening scene of The Secret Agent (Sunday, BBC One) begins with the whizz of fireworks exploding in the London sky, but the full episode of this Victorian drama takes a lot longer to get cracking. A retelling of Joseph Conrad's early-20th-century novel, The Secret Agent is set in 1886, but its themes – radicalisation, suicide bombings, new enemies, paranoia and fear – feel relevant for today's audience.

Caught in a plot to blow up Greenwich Observatory – there was a real attempt in 1894 – is Anton Verloc, a spy played perfectly by the droopy-faced Toby Jones.

Verloc is tasked with his violent mission by Vladimir (David Dawson), the secretary of the Russian embassy, who for some reason has been written as a caricature evil English upper-class, cane-wielding politician. The makers describe Vladimir as ruthless and terrifying, but he's about as threatening as the Beano's Lord Snooty.

Verloc's wife is played by Vicky McClure. Fans of Shane Meadows's heart-rending and honest This Is England will know her affectionately as Lol, or from the overblown cop drama Line of Duty.

Blame Conrad, or Tony Marchant’s writing, but, as Winnie, McClure has precious little to do except smile and frown. As Verloc starts to show the strains of being held in his espionage headlock, his wife either buries her head in the sand or is just not bright enough to notice.

McClure is joined by her This Is England costar Stephen Graham – who's as bulldoggish and brilliant as ever. Thankfully, the Scouser injects a bit of pace in his role as Chief Inspector Heat. Overall, though, even when the plot should be thickening and boiling over it only ever simmers. Verloc's cowardly and conniving plan is revealed at the end of episode one.

As for the bomb . . . tick, tock.