Episodes isn't even as funny as Crane and Klarik's last collaboration, the exceedingly mediocre short-lived CBS comedy "The Class" - and that's even considering that the new show features Crane's old "Friends" star Matt LeBlanc delivering a terrific performance as an exaggerated version of himself.

It's a lead performance that's completely at odds with the tone of the rest of the show, and one that makes all the other goofy things even more uncomfortable than usual.

The three episodes I've seen felt flat and airless, outside of the performance by Sam Huntington as the werewolf.

Surely, there are talented American writers not long out of their teens who could have helped craft a new group of characters and stories that reflected their own experiences - and with enough sex and drugs and mayhem to please MTV's need for extra attention.

Over the three episodes USA sent out for review (the pilot, a mid-season episode, and the first season finale), what Kate does only occasionally matches up with the judge's speech, and none of her cases are interesting enough to distinguish Fairly Legal from the abundance of law shows on TV.

It's not painful--there are likable actors and the office setting is loose and fun--but none of the jokes land, at all.

Traffic Light winds up with a negative hat trick, in which I found myself not caring about any of its three male leads, though I did like one of their female co-stars and several of the guests who popped up in the episodes I've seen.

It's formula, and while there's obviously a ton of appetite for that kind of formula in primetime (see the roster of dramas on CBS, FOX, ABC, TNT...), it's not particularly well-executed formula, and it wastes the potential of the one part of the formula that's slightly unique.

It's a very straightforward, sincere, dull accounting of all the trouble caused by Rodrigo, son Cesare (Francois Arnaud, frequently nude), daughter Lucrezia (Holliday Grainger) and company cause with their newfound power and station.

You can blame Winslet, or Haynes, or both, but something doesn't fit, and it wrecks everything, above and beyond spending so much time on a story that could have been just as satisfyingly told at half the length.

Without the overwhelming nostalgia for this particular venue for Pee-wee and these supporting characters, I found The Pee-wee Herman Show on Broadway a long (close to 90 minutes) slog, cute in spots, but mainly just strange--a voyage through the fantasy life of a character I prefer to see fending for himself in a closer approximation of the real world.

It's all incredibly broad, and lacking in any real point of view.

It tries to coast on banter that's not particularly snappy, and on a snickering dependence on sex-related gags and plots.

The whole thing feels like a gross miscalculation--a failed attempt to update Allen's familiar persona for an angrier, more desperate time.

The fictionalized Chelsea occupies that irritating middle ground where she's not likable enough to be watchable when she's just existing, and yet neutered enough that her bad behavior isn't actually all that funny.

With the show so half-hearted about its subject matter, Teenage Daughter has to lean on the hackiest of punchlines.

It could be a problem Allen Gregory solves later on, either by softening its main character (and his dad) or by pushing supporting characters more to the forefront, but the version on display in the pilot is one I have no interest in ever watching again.

But because Lohan seems to be going to a costume party dressed as Taylor while Bowler's giving a performance, the whole thing is an imbalanced mess.

By the third episode, though, we've gone off the rails with another low-level blackmailer somehow getting over on an employee at the supposedly powerful and secretive CTU, and with Jack getting caught up in a plot-delaying detour that's even dumber than the survivalist who held Kim hostage for a few episodes in season two.

Who wants to watch a less funny, vaguely cuddlier House impersonator?

It at times seems like a pornographic parody of "The X-Files."

A lame new sitcom.

Having two nearly identical, equally mediocre sitcoms on the air at the same time isn't exactly a crime, but it seems an awful waste of someone's time and energy.

What the obnoxious "Cashmere Mafia" and now the dull Lipstick Jungle suggest is that it's not as easy to recreate the "Sex and the City" phenomenon as assembling three or four attractive actresses of a certain age and pairing them with a name producer from the HBO show.

The hallucinatory gimmick can only do so much for the same old stories.

"Runaway" is like a Frankenstein's monster stitched together from pieces of dead shows from both networks.

Basically, [the lead character is] a collection of every stereotypical romantic comedy and chick-lit trait, made especially annoying by Heche.

A gimmick in search of a show.