When I write that "Undercovers is basically a slicker, more expensive, less geeky version of 'Chuck,'" that's not quite meant as an insult. I prefer "Chuck," but the pilot for Undercovers is stylish, sexy and, at its best, quite fun.

With Samuels' star-power and the proficient execution of the episode episodes, The Nine Lives of Chloe King is the sort of summer fun that I'll happily watch in the summer and it has the potential, if it navigates the story properly, to become the rare ABC Family series I might stick with even against regular programming.

Despite whatever aesthetic limitations it may have, The Curious Case of Curt Flood manages to tell a solidly complete version of the story over its 90 minutes, resisting the temptation to make this a simple hagiography.

Not only are high school horrors pretty universal, even if the specifics change, but I can find a way to fit "Awkward" into a tradition of hyper-literal high school comedies like "Pretty in Pink" or "Heathers" or "Mean Girls" or "Juno" or "The In-Betweeners" (if your taste runs to British TV). It's not as good as any of those, but it's not as bad as "Jawbreaker," which is in the same tradition.

Jerry Weintraub feels like he's the guy pulling the strings on His Way, which hinders the film, particularly in its second half. That doesn't mean His Way isn't an entertaining 83-minute documentary, but it's an entertaining 83-minute documentary, rather than being an enlightening film that's anywhere near as perceptive as its subject matter

The Voice delivered an entertaining two hours, far more tightly packed than any "Idol" audition episode for years, though that's an unfair comparison.

The Secret Circle may be over-calculated and under-inspired, but that doesn't necessarily mean The Secret Circle is bad. There's something to be said for setting reasonable goals and largely succeeding, especially when there are plenty of shows that aspire to a good deal less and still fail.

Awkward has grown and matured, but I don't think I love the direction that MTV and, presumably, Iungerich have chosen to push the show.

Greek is bound-and-determined to retain focus on its core cast, even if some of the machinations to make that possible come across as slightly contrived and belabored.

If you walk away from the Mike & Molly pilot and tell me that you hate it, because the only version you remember is the grating, pratfall-laden "laughing at" version, I can't say you're wrong. I can try to point you to the better parts of the pilot, like Mike's "share" to the Overeaters Anonymous group or his very different "share" to Molly's class of students, but as Chris Farley could have told you, those things don't get cheers like the "fat guy falls down" hijinks.

The weekly cops-and-lawyers procedural aspect of the show was never going to hook me, but I found the pilot's core case, featuring an abducted girl, to be particularly manipulative and uninvolving. I was also irked by the contrivances that would allow Moynahan's character to be handling a case in which her brother was accused of malfeasance. I was much more interested in the multigenerational family stuff that played out.

It's not especially fresh material, nor is it all that nuanced, but it's peppy and occasionally clever and it offers ample eye candy for any and all tastes.

It's a low-key premise, but not a bad one. And when you have comic actors this solid on-board, you can almost make believe that this flimsiness has substance.

You can feel Hardy and his mad energy desperately pushing The Take along, but you can hear the gears grinding.

After a lively and appealingly hilarious premiere, Dexter goes entirely off the rails with two episodes hobbled by clumsy victims-of-the-week and then crushed with endless repetition of the core theme.

Despite the presence of Nolan (who's co-written most of his brother Christopher's films, including "Memento" and "The Prestige") and producer J.J. Abrams, this is very much a CBS crime procedural, one that could fit comfortably alongside "The Mentalist," et al. But it would help an awful lot if Caviezel had a few Red Bulls first.

Jane By Design is by-the-numbers in its every facet.

While structurally sound, Ted Mann's script lacks the verbosity and filth and, unfortunately, subtext that he brought (with a healthy assist from David Milch) to "Deadwood."

It isn't badly acted. I don't remember any of the performances at all. It isn't horribly written. I don't remember any of the dialogue or plot machinations. It's actually nicely shot and the art direction in the U.S. Marshals' headquarters was handsome. That's not enough.

State of Georgia just comes across as a straight-down-the-middle girls-in-the-city comedy that wouldn't have been out of place on ABC or NBC's lineup back in 1987.

True Blood returns on Sunday (June 26) night with too many new characters, not enough time with the characters I like, a general evasion of the most prickly parts of last season's finale, some plodding hints at a lumbering dramatic direction for this season and some breasts.

The Protector might be worse if it were attempting to do something ambitious and failing. Instead, it's set the bar near the ground, but I guess some viewers will be satisfied to see it succeed.

Baby Daddy has no real point of view, no real comedic voice and one very cute infant.

Maybe there is some steak to accompany this sizzle, but I wish somebody would bring it to the table already. It seems rude to extend an invitation to so many people without delivering an event.

Mostly, I came away thinking that Platinum Hit is a pretty lame way to find a talented songwriter and that my chances of liking any of the music produced on the show are low. I won't be returning.

The first four episodes of Season 5 find True Blood at its most directionless and meandering.

An ill-conceived, poorly scripted, woodenly acted mess, Cult is watchably crazy, but that's the highest praise I can give it.

Mario Lopez, my name is Daniel Fienberg and your show sucks.