While animation liberates Napoleon and his world from the usual physical restrictions, it somehow lessens the overall appeal of the character and setting.

In trying to be about over-the-top characters, it forgets to be about people.

This trope--an actor playing a surlier, fictional version of himself--has been done to death already, and Don't Trust the B---- leans too heavily on the actor's state of celebrity limbo, filling in late-'90s jokes and references where the real laughs ought to be.

Even as a work of harmless vapidity, G.C.B. has a difficult time enlivening its oversimplified premise.

Their ostentatiousness is more off-putting than aspirational and, frankly, it feels deliberately exaggerated for the camera's benefit.

Magic City suffers from endless predictability and a lack of creative storytelling.

Collectively, the four men are derived from a hundred other canceled sitcoms about men being men while trying to navigate the single life.

Sorkin's writing lapses into self-parody, leaving savvier viewers to marvel at how quickly the show goes awry.

Animal Practice is a forgettable show sloppily built from comedy cliches, but it can be fixed by firing most of the cast and rebuilding the show around the monkey.

Bereft of better scripts, the cast goes through the motions, half-hearted and cheerfully dazed.

Bombastic music cues and promises of excitement fail to persuade the viewer that Immortalized isn’t just a dead skunk in the middle of February’s road, stinkin’ up to high heaven.

The acrimony between the two men [Marc Maron and his father] doesn’t register as funny or entertaining. Louis C.K. has shown us, on “Louie,” what sort of deeper meaning can be mined in such deep contempt, but on Maron it just feels ugly and dull.

This show is so bad, it’s beneath even MTV.

You can see Sagal and his premise coming from many miles away, making precisely the irritating jokes and wry asides you’d expect him to make. The effect--educational or otherwise--rests somewhere in a parched canyon between “Schoolhouse Rock” and a “Daily Show” segment.

This painfully flat American version of a British comedy stars Hank Azaria as Alex, a newly-divorced and depressed PR agent who unwisely beds another agent at the firm (Kathryn Hahn as Helen).

Ostensibly an anti-bullying effort for the TMZ era, it makes the celebrities look like giant babies.

There's no zing whatsoever left in leftover Patio Man material like that, but the cast members (including Christopher Moynihan and Dan Folger as Will's unlikable fellow man-children) give it whatever energy they can muster.

There's something demeaning about the whole set-up.

Just when psychiatrists have decided to strike narcissistic personality disorder from the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (as reported last week in science journals), the Hasselhoffs make a clear case for reinstating it.

[Happy Endings] is a dream compared with the creaky overdose of Aleve that comes with The Paul Reiser Show.

If it sounds a bit thrown together for sitcom's sake, it is.

Pasquale gives the Jason/Ian role his best shot, but he is dragged down by the bad writing and ridiculous transition from good guy to bad guy.

Based on a book series from the same author who ginned up The Vampire Diaries and drawing upon every market-tested trope the witchy-poo genre has to offer.

Maria Bello was convinced to star as Det. Jane Timoney, bravely attempting to make up for a so-so script by donning a fedora and laying things on about 10 times too thick.

The show is so ludicrously dumb that your eyeballs will hurt from rolling so much.

It is mean-spirited, painfully dumb and badly acted.

It reeks so strongly of unintentional parody that it should make almost any Beatles fan wince with embarrassment. It's the perfect example of a bad script basing itself in reality (press clippings, collected lore) and yet still seeming so bizarrely wrong. Even the wigs deserve a laugh track.

This is a series for people who found "Sex and the City" too quick-witted and "The Wendy Williams Show" too intellectually stimulating.