Wallops don't get more walloping than the one that arrives at the end of the premiere of FX's adult cop show The Shield. Won't tell you what it is, and don't you dare read other reviews in case they blab it. This is one of those punch-in-the-stomach moments of TV you'll want to remember being stunned by. Although The Shield looks pretty dang good to that point - or pretty %@$#! good, as its characters would swear - the show suddenly becomes flat-out brilliant. [12 Mar 2002, p.B27]

Man, is this a good show...Boomtown is so good, it single-handedly restores your faith in broadcast networks. They can compete with the "freedom" of premium cable. All it takes is creative smarts. And NBC's Boomtown has plenty of those. [27 Sept 2002, p.B02]

Nobody tries to be funny here, so they're more hysterical than the folks falling all over themselves elsewhere. They're simply hopeless specimens of spoiled humanity who haven't a clue how to operate in the real world. [2 Nov 2003, p.04]

"Galactica" is so beautifully designed, shot, edited and acted that you can practically smell and taste its emotional validity.

Best show of the season? Call me crazy, but it's a loopy-twisted-serpentine whodunit revolving around a whip-smart teenage girl...So let's recap. Engaging star, cool characterizations, witty scripts, meaty backstory. What's not to like? Only that networks always cancel deliciously offbeat gems like this. Let's hope UPN doesn't actually want to be a "real" network, after all. [22 Sept 2004, p.C01]

Party Down took awhile to jell, but it has hit its stride as one of TV's most finely observed comedies.

Even film school snobs like me can learn a thing or 10 from Moguls & Movie Stars. The breadth and depth of information rushing through each hour is astonishing.

For a show forever detonating bombs, it's surprising how sweet and frothy Tara feels. Just a half-hour long, it doesn't waste a second, pulling a gun within the first few and no punches ever.

As real as real gets, invaluably adding human understanding to a hot-button topic.

Showtime lets them take their time to spin serpentine story lines, gradually pulling us deep into one very sticky, scary web of intrigue.

The first three episodes totally nail it.

They [directors John Dorsey and Andrew Stephan] know how much to say, and show, to viscerally deliver the sights, sounds and even smells, without scaring us away.

Garcia's single-camera editing amplifies the comedy inherent, rather than being a crutch to create it. And the casting here is as good as "Earl," which is saying something--even if Leachman goes a bit off the rails as wacked-out "mamaw."

Producer Beers' team is the gold standard in male-aimed reality, and these guys have grit to burn.

With two shopping trips in each half-hour, TLC's latest hit is so fast-paced--and such giddy consumerism--that it's fairly irresistible. Also educational.

The soul of the show, though, is its conflicted "heroes," truly tortured, in palpable ways, recalling the best, early days of NBC's ill-fated Monday comic book. There's no cartoonery here. Just adult adventure and angst.

This evocative hour doesn't lionize Steinem, but simply lays out what happened.

Fascinating documentary--and extremely effective commercial.

The show's core relationship is appealingly relaxed. It dares to suggest successful coupledom lies less in heated passion than in being able to dress down and screw up and know you're still loved.

It all adds up to one solid nail-biter, with a profusion of clever clues that seems to cast suspicion on everyone.

You can see Neverland as sly philosophical discourse, or you can see it as fantastically produced adventure. Just make sure you see it.

No matter where you stand on the death-penalty debate, this is must-watch revelation--and, thanks to Herzog, tense and suspenseful drama.

[These women make] instant impact, of course, with their stories but also through sheer personality.

Strong personalities evoke the hold of the old, the tug of the new, and that intersection's human fireworks.

Bracing and tasty.

Sincere host, unguarded participants, sensitive treatment. And more cool stuff!

It's less the Plot Events that ring true here than the well-played little side moments and background squabbles, the simmering resentments and recriminations, the emotional tugs-of-war.

Browncoats Unite keeps the focus on the work itself. And that's what keeps "Firefly" afloat.

A head-spinning, yet deeply humane, thrill ride.

There's humor, there's heart, you'll laugh when you don't expect to.

This eccentric assemblage truly captures the distinct feel of Vegas-the night, the gallows humor of grisly work and the people who thrive on it. Sure, it's seedy, surreal and supremely specific. That's why we're hooked. [6 Oct 2000, p.B51]

The producers' storytelling bravura grabs your guts from the first tense second and doesn't let go. [29 Oct 2002]

He's rude, sarcastic, bitter, brilliant and, delightfully, the most compelling character of the fall TV season. [14 Nov 2004, p.11]

The most intriguing thing, actually, is that Lost may not even need the hoodoo voodoo. Abrams and script creator Damon Lindelof ("Crossing Jordan") have already set up a pretty compelling cross- section of earthlings as a study of simply human behavior. [19 Sept 2004, p.11]

This stuff is good. No, superb.

Like Hugh Laurie's irascible "House" title character, star Ellen Pompeo's newly minted Dr. Grey conveys such substance that you simply can't stop watching. [25 March 2005, p.B33]

Layering such unnatural proceedings into the family-drama format only intensifies both story angles when you do it right. And Cassidy has, with strong casting, solid structure and a fine feel for what's most frightening.

It all flows from the heart in a way few shows do, unfolding with the ease of being surrounded by people you've known forever already.

[A] rewardingly seasoned new drama series that's practically indistinguishable from the acclaimed feature film, except that it's better.

This four-hour gem is exquisite from start to finish, rife with the texture of its place and time, rich with human understanding expressed in everyday articulation and small gestures.

The 10 hours of PBS' immersive miniseries Carrier are frank and intimate, hard-hitting and heart-rending, rocking (with hit songs) and rolling (when the ship pitches so sharply, planes can't land).

Caprica feels torn between soulfully mature ruminations and adolescent "accessibility" for gamers wondering where the space action went. Let's hope the pilot's spellbinding second hour points the way toward greatness.

These actors are serious sitcom pros, and their show is actually about something genuine--sibling bonding/rivalry, parental button-pushing, relationship-building. It's nice to see some emotional meat in a live-audience staging again, feeding off the energy and reactions of real people.

While critics like me count quibbles, kids of all ages should share my husband's assessment: "It's a superhero show. Superman flies. Give The Cape a little space."

Future episodes aren't as snappy or scenic. But Shahi & Show deliver win-win, anyway.

These stylish suits aren't empty, by any means. But we'll have to see if USA is truly willing to let its heroes' souls get emotionally naked.

There's texture galore in this city-shot cop hour, eyed by handheld lenses echoing "Homicide's" edge (and director Peter Berg's "Friday Night Lights" intimacy).

Science channel publicity materials call the show "a real-life Twilight Zone," and in terms of mood, that's on the mark.

Robbins means business, calmly prodding family members--and not just the apparent aggressors--to truly comprehend where others are coming from. She calls people on their bull, eliciting not just tears from stress but tears of realization.

Method makes a solid case for Lewis as underappreciated auteur.

A great concept, mostly divorced from reality, with superb execution, just might extend forever.

One thing you can say for USA: It knows what it's doing. It's got its shtick, and it's sticking to it.

The show has sneaky depth. The leads are pretty without being "pretty," refreshingly down-to-earth likable, and able to flesh out their youthful stereotypes with this weird thing called personality.

Thought I was going to hate "Total Blackout." Then couldn't help laughing out loud.

Bunheads seems to know exactly what it's doing.

The good Lord created sitcoms like The Soul Man as relaxing, relatable humor with heart, and Cedric's new creation isn't about to mess with His template.

The characters hold promise, the show looks swell, the stories reflect rich history and the makers have earned our trust.

Her shrewd, straightforward perspective and her semisweet, offhand attitude make her reflections fresh and relatable.

Angel upholds Whedon's spellbinding "Buffy" mantle and expands it, taking his surprisingly mature and witty view of life among the supernatural into an adult realm. [5 Oct 1999, p.B27]

Originally a half-hour sitcom, redeveloped into a light hour, this latter-day "Northern Exposure" creates its own eccentric, cantankerous, sweet and silly world. Can this wacky enchantment last? [6 Oct 2000, p.B51]

We're talking major-league adult content here - from unblinking strip searches, to human branding, to brutal violence and language that the broadcast networks have never even thought about airing. But that's only an alert, not a warning, because this drama series from tube auteur Tom Fontana ("Homicide," "St. Elsewhere") packs a dramatic wallop as potent as its frankness. [11 July 1997, p.B47]

There's real thought behind The West Wing, a blessed exhilaration in this increasingly apolitical medium. For those who remember when '70s TV comedy took on the world, this is a welcome arrival. True, the pilot takes some fish-in-a-barrel potshots at sanctimonious evangelists, in Sorkin's speechifying manner from "Sports Night." But it also delivers that series' satisfying depth of reflection and rich characterization. Eventually. Once we know who these people are. [21 Sept 1999, p.B27]

This is just an action fairy tale, a modern Saturday afternoon serial or contemporary penny dreadful, designed to keep us hanging on its every outlandish turn by exasperating us, if necessary, with characters we love to hate and contrivances we delight in dissing. ... It's insulting to our intelligence. And we can't stop watching. [28 Oct 2003]

The busy season premiere quickly constructs an intriguing seesaw of aspirations and emotions, and it's self-contained enough to sell itself to even Nip/Tuck newcomers.

A soul-deep sense of humanity grounds "Heroes."

"Big Love" does more this year than you might expect, and more richly, more provocatively, more dramatically and amusingly, too.

A rich character drama and riveting suspenser that makes Fox's "24" seem lackluster.

The characters are vibrantly well-defined... And the writing is smart, with a light touch.

Any doubts the tube can get graphic enough for today's gore-heads disappear almost instantly with tonight's premiere installment.

As bizarre as things can get, Torchwood still feels more like sci than fi, and more ego/id than alien vs. human. The Gwen character in particular radiates intelligence, and empathy, and curiosity, about what's out there and what lies inside Jack. We can't help but share her, um, enthusiasm.

Uncompromisingly revelatory.

The second season of CBS' cult fave broadens beyond the first season's lawless action and family sentiment, even its rallying sense of community, to a wider and deeper purpose.

It's hard to convey all the ways that this tightly directed show goes right: quietly observant character detail, solid sleuthing, play-it-straight absurdity and sneaky "Airplane!"-style parody riffs.

Richness of detail permeates this modern tube-noir. The more damage done, the more juicy fun for us to savor.

This fall's most satisfying series delight.

"Dexter" knows what it's doing, and savors its skill immensely.

The filmmakers' assurance makes this miniseries play more like bang-up drama than fact-filled documentary. Yet their facts pass informative muster, and emotional validity, too.

It's fabulous in every sense of the word.

"Mrs. Harris" unfolds with a basic playfulness that keeps the mood light even as the story becomes dark indeed.

As well as New Yorkers know these three characters, it's amazing how quickly the real faces fade and the three actors here become their own "strong-willed people."

Samantha Who? which is not nearly as cool a title, but still a sparkling comedy that treats its viewers as--gasp!--actual grown-ups.

Good thing is, this ABC hour lives up (down?) to its name, arriving as a wacky/kinky escapist saga of screwed-up rich folks and the down-to-earth family attorney/fixer hired to sort out their shenanigans.

ABC's latest single-camera comedy is utterly relatable. Even better, it's filled with the same warm yet witty, always smart and eccentric vibe as previous misfit-student faves "Square Pegs," "Popular" and "Malcolm in the Middle."

On top of the stars' subtlety and Fuller's verbal wit, Sonnenfeld's pilot direction ladles layers of flashy frosting--theatrical camera angles, emphatic zooms, intensified color and those heavyhanded moments when the narration can't quite straddle the sap line.

Humans vs. cyborgs in a movie spin-off that's surprisingly effective for fans of both action and character drama.

Like a series of one-act two-handers--stage plays where just a pair of actors face off--this sneaky little gem steadily strips away its therapy patients' emotional defenses and excuses, exposing the raw fears and paralyzing reactions beneath.

The real-world intrigue is matched in dramatic flair by Chuck-world jeopardy. His store's fierce assistant-manager competition resounds as fatefully as saving the universe from evil. Which makes the dark light enough and the light dark enough to meld into a tasty escapist treat.

This narrated comedy-drama finely observes the particulars and peculiarities of teen life, both in the family its narrator is trying to outgrow and the high school pecking order he's hoping to rise in.

It's all sharp and snappy.

Giving us hope are Kapinos' brisk writing and Duchovny's agile performance, conveying smarts, savvy, self-indulgence and sad stupidity in equal amounts.

These folks know how to hit a note, and hold it, which means "Burn Notice" doesn't wobble around wondering how serious/silly to be. Its pitch is perfect.

This impressive fact-based debut from cultural journalist turned director Nelson George keeps us captivated simply by honing in tight on the character of its people, sketching in fine detail not just their admirable strengths but their all-too-human flaws.

They've translated the radio show's aural mosaic to the visual medium so effortlessly in this first season of six half-hours, we hope Showtime orders more of this life we all can recognize.

Fans of "The Sopranos" looking for a new Sunday-night must-see may find it here - though perhaps not fans driven to fits by that HBO hit's ambiguous conclusion.

Creator Vince Gilligan ("The X-Files") never loses touch with the mundane reality that so brilliantly magnifies its absurd horrors.

The "quarterlife" series, too, offers an especially hopeful kind of exuberance, even a glowing warmth to the friendships, that shines brighter than previous Herskovitz-Zwick shows.

Who'da thunk this one'd be so adorable? Cox gets to cook comedically in this smart souffli, with great support from von Esmarch and company. Big bonus: elaborate weekly production numbers spoofing Godzilla, the penitentiary and, of course, the French Revolution. Love those decapitated dancers! [6 Oct 2000, p.B51]

The "Melissa & Joey" pilot is no great shakes. But Melissa and Joey could be.

The Whole Truth equals " Law & Order: The Next Generation." It's still just a little too overeager and needs to mature.

Proceed with caution into this foul but funny cauldron of catastrophe.

Gardell and McCarthy are two of the more realistic-feeling, instantly appealing sitcom personalities in ages. They're enough to make it worth drudging through the sludge tonight's pilot considers comedy writing.

Being Human echoes, move for move, the BBC America fave of the same name. Yet, Syfy simplifies the tone into young-adult novelhood, where there's lots of white space around really big print. Subsequent episodes improve as plots thicken.

Producers clearly encourage some to-the-camera carping, but the overriding emotional tone is one of bonding and growth. And respect. In a reality competition!

Rule-breaking law enforcers! Wherever have we seen this before? But it sure works Friday, seasoned with devil-may-care brio from a cool cast.

The indulgence gets annoying, even as the basic details are fascinating and fun, as are the seductive testimony settings. You gotta love the fantasy of all those swank joints and modern mansions.

Super set-up seems to punch every teen ticket there is, with plenty to admit adults, too. Future execution will be key--in more ways than nine.

Sometimes, you're not looking for great TV. Sometimes, you're looking for par-tay! And dudes paid "to mess with the zombie culture," while also acing the case, surely fits the bill.

For such a vast and important story, Torchwood: Miracle Day feels strangely confined and artificial. Here's hoping for more by Episode 4.

Inexorably transfixing, whether you're taking names or taking notes.

A well-rounded, nicely mature comedy.

Hoggers is more down-market than Beers' crab fishermen and ice road truckers.

Which isn't to say Duck Dynasty isn't entertaining. It's just more of the same.

Hardly a treasure, but a lively island of adventure.

It does well what standard sitcoms do.

Bible Challenge tries to cover all bases in America's complicated Christian field.

No, it's not exactly "House." But it isn't like any other show, either, with its mad mix of moral dilemmas, medical crises, family ties, double-life-living and, y'know, rubouts 'n' stuff.

The Save Me pilot saves itself artistically. But debuting in a summertime double dose makes series salvation improbable.

Smart. [23 Aug 1998, p.D10]

So far no amnesia bouts or cougar attacks. And no Kim! [9 Jan 2005]

It's a romp and a half.

It's one tasty piece of lunacy.

The writing is pointed, the direction tight. But what really makes it work is Tori herself, light, bright and vulnerably likable.

The best thing about "Free Ride" is the lack of pressure to be about something. Trusting its talented cast to embody their own truths, it ambles and weaves, leaving space for the characters, even folks briefly bumped into, to nail a specific attitude or situation.

Like many Lifetime productions, this one is designed to make you stand up and take action on a hot-button issue. Unlike many, it's got the dramatic chops to keep you on your feet applauding.

Watch the first few minutes of "The Class" in its CBS sitcom debut tonight, and you may not believe me when I say this, but here goes. I think they might have something here.

There's enough human drama here to keep us occupied without having the walls fall down, too.

Good actors can get away with glib, and Woods is one of the best, persuasive enough to have you spotting freshness in the familiar and wisdom in cliches.

The emotional reality is so true here that not only do they get away with an assortment of gags about condoms, massage parlors and other juvenile fixations, but they make them resonate endearingly.

Don't believe the critics who tell you "Hidden Palms" stinks after they watched only the first episode.... This is a seriously involving serious show. A show about something.

There's warmth and wit there, along with not a little magic.

A pretty nifty, if completely insane, suspense/conspiracy/ chase/road adventure.

The show moves more like a ready-for-prime-time comedy than a kiddie toon. Think "The Simpsons" with soul.

Ultimately, viewers just have to work a lot harder to fathom John from Cincinnati than Tony from Jersey.

The intimate moments have a gutsy realness, and the central characterizations are bedrock enough to sell us through the stereotypes.

What Canterbury has powerfully going for it, besides the magnetic/vulnerable Margulies, is a cast surrounding her with equal strength, from principled second Ben Shenkman to Terry Kinney as their sneaky prosecutorial adversary, plus an array of effective guest stars from the rich East Coast acting pool.

It's daring, disconcerting and/or enlightening.

Disney's HSM2 delivers precisely what's required. And America is all ears.

Many viewers will find its satire way over the line, but they're not the ones The WB is aiming for. [6 Oct 2000, p.B51]

We're happy to see a multigenerational sitcom, and the pilot has some nice writing. But the effort feels somehow strained. Though stage veteran Byrne has charisma, he's hardly a sitcom natural. So maybe that's the point. A sitcom that doesn't behave like one. Hope springs eternal. [6 Oct 2000, p.B51]

Sad thing is, I'm a geek girl myself, who'd be happy to love this mad mix of technology, action and "humor" if it were, you know, actually funny more often than just cheaply offensive. Less pander, more wit, please.

Thurgood feels more "important" than dramatic. Part of it is Stevens' then-I-did-this structure, more focused on biographical bullet points than the flesh-and-blood human behind them. And part of it is Fishburne, who despite coiled power--his Ike Turner in "What's Love Got to Do With It" was Oscar-nominated--resonates here as a cool character rather than a fiery one.

If it wasn't a docucomedy, it would just be dull.

The angel on my shoulder says H8R is a piece of slime, bringing out the worst in everyone involved. But the devil on my other shoulder says this show is the logical outcome of our culture's celeb-obsession, and everyone involved gets precisely what they deserve. Which is soooo fun to watch.

The feel is more documentary than "reality" show, which some viewers will appreciate and others won't.

CBS' sustained level of series craftsmanship is certainly admirable--their dramas all look sharp and function smoothly--but that doesn't go so far when even a sweeping period piece in a distinct locale with superior stars seems to roll off the same assembly line.

Malibu Country is nothing great. But its studio-shot sitcom style sure suits Reba.

The pilot is so busy establishing its new world, performances are afterthought generic. But Defiance gets more distinctive, and dramatic, through its next two hour episodes.

[The episodes are] smarter than you might expect but not quite as clever as they work at being. Like the family unit it portrays, this dark/lighthearted drama tries to have everything at once and struggles under the far-reaching effort.

Quinn radiates enough sincerity to make us keep reading this uneven book, just to see how it shapes up.

We haven't had a good dishy time-waster in awhile. Maybe this is it.

This isn't "Friends," after all. At its hour length, "Related" asks us to take the Sorelli saga somewhat more seriously. Yet it provides sitcom incidents that can't stand the significance test.

The wit can get a little heavyhanded sometimes - yes, it's another series with voiceover narration (can anybody say "Sex and the City"?) - but its heart, and head, are in the right place.

This Fox series is smartly written and acted, and it's even evocatively filmed in New York locations that lend it a gritty city flavor. But.... Less persuasively entwined is a heavy-handed romance whodunit.

"Flight of the Conchords" isn't brilliant, but it isn't awful, either, just familiar, with two likable stars who seem to be channeling the deadpan dry wit of an old Beatles movie.

If only the delicacy of these two character actors [Alfred Molina and Michael Keaton], were matched by that of The Company's central figures and the production's overall arc.

The multi-ethnic cast is appealing and their cyber notions are nice, but it's hard to tell where this curious concoction is headed. They're certainly loading the dice with paranormal possibilities. [6 Oct 2000, p.B51]

Its rambling storytelling starts to reveal distinct shape in these people, their relationships and the show's quirky comic perspective [in the second episode].

The target viewer wouldn't watch all this predictable--I mean, impulsive--bickering and button-pushing while thinking: I wonder why all the paintings and posters on the walls in the background are blurred out? And then think: Geez, why am I even wondering about that? The audience for Joan Knows Best? will be loving Joan's visits to three plastic surgeons Tuesday, not fretting.

Roseanne's Nuts isn't awful. It just is. There's "nut" much happening.

So pleased with itself, it doesn't seem concerned about pleasing us.

de Cadenet's interesting. Her talk show is much less so.

Families can watch this together nightly. The pace isn't exactly taxing. And it's summer.

Its hasty pace frequently muddles precisely who's who where, when or why. Even the zippy sex scenes play like another gratuitous burst of firepower.

If only it were more interesting.

While The Neighbors sketches something genuinely creative--and truly weird--its comedy doesn't really come together.

TV fave Daly is more personally accessible than Janssen and Harrison Ford. And his show is beautifully produced. But we've seen it all before. CBS must figure this old-style genre-single- lead hero, chase drama, closed-end action-is primed for a comeback, though it's hard to imagine younger viewers sitting still for this Diagnosis Pursuit. [6 Oct 2000, p.B51]

"Drive" is less the sort of textured character study we've come to expect than an action-packed joy ride. That's not to say you won't wanna hop in. But it's hardly a journey you've gotta take.

Pathos may make for a more positive reality TV experience than a parade of lying, backstabbing and physical torture. But the basic appeal remains pathetic. Perhaps in more ways than one.

"The Tudors" could actually use a touch of the over-the-top wildness that undermined the substance of HBO's "Rome." If we could blend the two together somehow, we might have a kickily effective history mash-up.

The stories may hardly be innovative... but their very familiarity becomes comforting.

To steal from the old beer slogan, (this show) looks great, (but it's) less filling (than it intends).

ABC's new computer animated Shrek half-hour seems to disqualify itself from the timeless category almost immediately by insisting on being "hip" (which means anti-hip), usually at the expense of feeling real.

While it's nice to see a show that isn't cops/docs/lawyers, it'd be nicer if the show was better.

Though American tastes are mocked here, too, laughing at your own group doesn't necessarily excuse laughing at others.

This show lurches along, all its sitcom puzzle pieces laid out without being assembled into even a Hollywood picture of life.

Despite Salomon's efforts at visually stylish filmmaking, Justice for Natalee Holloway never puts any real meat on the bones of the much-hyped saga.

I did catch enough of "Hart of Dixie" to tell it's formula absurdity for the "princess" demographic of magical thinkers who now imagine being lifesaving doctors as well as rescued royals.

Nothing is left unspoken in dialogue as blandly obvious as "I am the only other person who knows" and "She had a lot of secrets."

Surface fashion styling can't cloak the underlying framework of yet another CBS procedural.

Lehman is good, most everything's OK, but nothing is especially fresh or compelling.

Greetings From Tucson tries the high-wire act of both avoiding and exploiting Mexican-American stereotypes, and falls flat on its back in the desert sand next to the tire swing and the El Camino. [20 Sept 2002]

The pilot's accumulation of cute - oh, for the straightforward simplicity of bowling alley lawyer "Ed" - feels overbearing long before Kelley's courtroom summation turns societal sermon.

Bob's Burgers might be meatier if it gave us some reason to watch these characters. The title isn't the only thing that feels generic.

There's no "here" here.

Whoa, pardner. Calm down. There's too much struttin' and puffin' in the pilot for our taste. Rich casting and drama possibilities get mired in improbable events. And the basic premise -white father rides in to save black city? -is asking for trouble. [6 Oct 2000, p.B51]

This canned stew is further flavored with too-snappy comebacks, too-slick repartee and too-clever contrivances. Making it bearable are cast members who do somehow manage to seem like people next door.

The pilot serves up flashy ooh-ah instead of anything tangible to wrap our arms around.

So much of tonight's series pilot feels so glib and rings so false, it's hard to believe this soapy saga comes from the quality-not-quantity production team of Tom Fontana and Julie Martin.

The first hour manages to feel both mechanical and manipulative, without feeling truly exciting or even grounded anyplace.

Tonight's "Skating" debut glides onto the air in a weird sort of middle zone, not quite cheesy enough to skewer, yet too much a cheese-product to take seriously.

There's greatness begging to be grasped here, and nobody has a handle on it.

The women's friendship radiates authentic undertones, beneath all the gooed-up personal drivel, although it's way too convenient how they always show up simultaneously at the same crime scenes.

There's nothing to relate to here, just to observe from afar, and only Tambor's as-always deft comic distraction gives us anything worth glancing at.

Alex O'Loughlin is bogged down by trite dialogue, half-hearted support, perfunctory exposition, and better-to-look-good-than-make-sense production priorities.

There's just too much shtick and not enough personality, especially when the stars' previous hits found their funny in relatable human behavior.

Someone must believe the allure of "CSI" lies in its "look" - Cold Case also offers time-tripping flashbacks blending the past incident into present time - along with the behavioral "cool" of its central character. But even when William Petersen plays reserved, his "CSI" cop seems to be seething at his core. That suppressed fire makes him worth watching. Morris is barely an ember.

There's certainly comedy to be found in these basic situations, but not in "Lucky Louie's" confounding approach or stilted presentation.

Despite the storylines' incessant emotional and psychological delvings, the result is an inert if not annoying muddle among unpleasantly profane people whose prospective salvation isn't worth wading toward.

Too many moments feel false, overblown or contrived.

A second-rate knockoff of what's not quite a first-rate fabrication itself.

Eli Stone is fated to flounder.

Carpoolers is like a flimsy "Saturday Night Live" skit pounded home and running on beyond endurance. Actors sputter their lines, dither and whimper like some 1950s sitcom.

This show is slickly packaged and unchallengingly trite in its slavish reality-show construction.

Some amusing bits, but for every one of those, there are 10 misfires.

The characters couldn't be more bland, and atmospheric Texas settings are ill-used.

Russian Dolls is so busily edited--is any shot longer than 3 seconds?--that there's no flavor of anything.

TBS' entry only lacks "Sex and the City's" craft in writing, characterizations, plot, production and wit.

Nothing to see here. Move on.

The only thing deep in tonight's Firefly premiere, though, is the well of cliches into which Whedon dips for what passes for plot and exposition. [20 Sept 2002, p.B02]

Any smart girl would also wish for humor at a higher level than slapstick broccoli on the eyeball or a 12-year- old boy drooling, "You're kinda easy on the peepers." [20 Sept 2002]

There's perverse fun to be had in watching "3 lbs." Count the groans as you spot yet another trite piece of formula.

The show seems to have no point, rendering it agony how hard the proceedings work at making one.

Most of the cast stammers its way through sentences as if awaiting a lightning strike of inspiration. When it doesn't come, the actors have to say something anyway, and that meandering search for structure is what winds up filling 30 shapeless minutes.

This is pretty tedious viewing.

Maybe the problem with CBS' new Sunday popcorn movie "Mayday" isn't that it could be better. It actually could be worse. Then this would be deliriously mockable trash instead of an occasionally gripping but mostly frustratingly loony piece of hooey.

This one isn't David Spade's fault. Really it isn't.

The filming is urgent! The dialogue is obvious! The actors get choked up! It's as if a film school class put together a thriller following all the rules precisely.

"Fashion House" is a bit more coherent, if still ludicrous.

NBC's new Bionic Woman remake is a desolate slab of ice where any resemblance to human beings - alive, dead or cyborgian--is purely coincidental. It's hard to imagine a bigger modernized mess being made

Nobody seems to be having any fun here, not even lording-it-over-everybody Ming. You'd think next week's second episode might be better, once all that exposition is out of the way, but you'd be wrong. It's even more lifeless.

These folks wouldn't be paranoid if they thought critics loathed their forced and annoying show and widely predicted it would be the season's first to tank. [6 Oct 2000, p.B51]

A groaner from beginning to end.

The whole project feels salaciously sleazy, unless you're enjoying the proceedings, in which case it's juicily depraved.

ABC's little-girl gang of four represents nothing more than cliches.

The storms in this production have more personality than the characters who chase, study and prepare for them.

Forced, frantic and continually preposterous.

NBC's superficial knockoff is just Lipstick on a pig.

At least "Men in Trees" doesn't tax your brain. Just your patience, taste and intelligence.

There's nothing unexpected here, and certainly no adventure, just who's sleeping with whom, and who's the daddy, and why they're still so juvenile, and how Tom Berenger ended up in this soapy soup.

Viewers are expected to swallow - worse, to savor - simplistic recycling of melodrama plots seen a hundred times before.

Our mouths may be open, but more likely agape than laughing.

[A] treacly piece of tripe.

Little of it adds up to much of anything but foul-minded mischief.

No matter where the goofy "Desperate Housewives" goes, it's not into the toilet, which is where Big Shots spends its time both literally and figuratively.

There's not a whiff of actual life here, no grounding character like "Arrested Development's" Jason Bateman . There's just frantic, false and tiresome.