Stunning in a different way are the three Marines at the center of the series. In their true stories and, more importantly, their individual responses to the demands of warfare, we find a perfect trinity of action, emotion and intellect.

The best parts of Treme are breathtaking. And then it exceeds that.

What makes The Walking Dead so much more than a horror show is that it plays with theatrical grandeur, on a canvas that feels real, looks cinematic and has an orchestral score to match. For all its set pieces, however, Walking is most breathtaking in its small moments, in which the pain and glory of being human are conveyed with only the flick of a filmmaking wrist.

One welcome aspect of all this is that some of the plot threads which became so distracting last season, threatening to tip Big Love into crazy-flatulent "L.A. Law" territory, seem to be gone. There is more than enough left, along with consistently brilliant acting all over, to keep the show as mesmerizing as it ever was.

Intricate plots (many updated versions of old favorites), fast pacing and smart, witty writing make Sherlock one of the most dazzling confections on TV.

Watching "My Name Is Earl" unfold is like taking a hydrofoil ride and flying so fast above the ordinary surface of television life that when the show ends you feel dazed and amazed for hours afterward.

It is even more excruciating -- which in this case means better -- than last year's.

What makes it uniquely entertaining are Mr. Rock's and co-creator Ali LeRoi's humorous insights into the terrors of adolescence and their tart observations about harsh realities of the wider world.

The HBO film Grey Gardens shines new light on old subjects, and the result--including a fantastic performance from Drew Barrymore--is beyond entertaining.

The stories are complex and contemporary, with references to a remembered past. But it's easy to forget the past--the present Sherlock, droll yet naive, is so wonderfully weird.

It is not very often that a TV series invents a new look, or even a new genre. After only two weeks on the air, it may be too soon to gush that way about FX's new drama Justified, but this is one cool show.

Each week the story unfolds like a tapestry, its intricate stitches slowly creating not just a scene but a whole world. It's a world to get lost in, but not always easy to endure.

Onto this short list of tightly written and intensely acted thrillers now comes Boss.

[Bill Nighy] is the riveting, breath-stealing, can't-take-your-eyes-off-him center of drama where every actor and every moment is like that, too.

Mindy is not just soulful and amusing. It takes a genre full of clichés, adds something fresh and spins it into gold.

[The best way] to view The Girl as an exquisitely lurid morality play in the Hitchcock style.

The cast--including Michael Cudlitz, Ben McKenzie, Shawn Hatosy and Regina King--is perfection. No ensemble of actors on television is more stunning or exciting to watch.

The narrative is so intense and the details are so rich that you can forget to breathe.

What makes this documentary so fascinating are the narratives by many of the CIA analysts, operatives and others who worked in the shadows over almost two decades to lay the groundwork for identifying Islamic radicals and tracking terrorists.

It's far more beautiful than its predecessors.

The story of rising (and falling) movie star Vince (Adrian Grenier) and his entourage of high-living pals is as amusing as ever; and as the show matures so, ever so slightly, do the characters.

It has cinematic production values that give it the heft of a movie, and the lead characters are so natural and believable that the alien angle is less ludicrous than usual.

It is funny in the manner of "Best in Show" or "A Mighty Wind," but much more biting. Although that means there are some truly painful moments, the talent of Mr. Lilley, a brilliant mimic, is a divine salve.

Despite its fantastic nature, the story is an onion with a thousand layers, each one a satisfying mystery of its own.

This being a made-for-television environment, no one perishes, but there are no happy endings here, either.

Thankfully, Caprica can be enjoyed without any reference to the literal past or the figurative future.

It's a bit old-fashioned, which in today's TV universe makes it seem light and fresh--like the entrancing Ms. Applegate herself.

As charming as all that is amid the macabre, Pushing Daisies is a show that only a grown-up can fully enjoy.

If Welcome to the Captain can sustain its tone of tender quirkiness, it may find an appreciate audience stretching from those who loved "Arrested Development" to fans of "My Name Is Earl."

As the denizens of K-Ville move among the ruins of the city, the real and the fake merge until you forget that this is mere entertainment. It's a new experience, and an invigorating one.

The underlying theme here, once the fantastic elements are stripped away, is loneliness. That (plus the interesting face of its star) gives New Amsterdam a true and very tender heart.

Of all the new shows I've watched, it's also the one I'm most eager to see again.

It's all more like a steady burn--of talent, of smart writing, of chemical reactions--and it may take a few episodes to feel the heat.

The production is set among English traders in 19th-century Japan, the timeline of the action is altered, and some beloved examples of word play are no longer in the script. These are small matters, though, compared to the fresh gorgeousness on display and the elements of the story that come into focus here in new and moving ways.

The fantastic Ms. Ullman is as funny as ever, depicting a new slew of characters in sketches that mock the way we are.

It is not an exaggeration to say that the effect is of opening a treasure chest and being showered with its riches.

There is enough lively (if sometimes explicit) dialogue and reliable sexual appeal in all this to keep intuitive male viewers interested.

Magnificent cinematography, abundant animal life and lovely music that may contain harmonies unique to Botswana--all these make The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency a distinctly foreign affair. In the end, though, what comes through most strongly is not what's different, but how easily we recognize it all.

Everything happens quickly -- scenes, cameos, comments and quips fly by. But nothing is throwaway or stupid, and in the midst of laughter, the emotion, when it comes, feels real. That's good acting. It also happens only when writers respect their audience.

Divorce, father issues, an aging Peter Pan—we've seen these things before. Not like this, though, with no false notes, and reactions, from pain to optimism, that feel honest and not manufactured.

The casting is effective. William Miller gives Oliver the requisite vulnerability and steeliness.

White Collar takes off in its own refreshing directions, with enough wit and sparkle to make the time fly by.

TNT's cop drama Southland is like a hot date on a Saturday night. Just waiting for another episode to begin each week is a thrill, and once the show gets going the rush is like nothing else on TV.

Even without the Hollywood glamour, though, the New York series may turn out to be the superior product, grounded as it is in Mr. Greenberg's compelling, layered character, with a strong mind and vulnerable heart.

What makes this a standout family show is not the absence of dirty words. Who needs those when there's an abundance of eccentric humor and bright writing?

So far--although Glee may be creeping closer to the edge--it remains nearly as delightful as it was when everything about the show seemed shiny and new.

No vampires (so far). But no matter what materializes in the town, it's satisfying to see in the first episode that Haven already revolves around grown-ups.

Although their characters are as vivid as they are distinctive, these two interact so effortlessly, in conversation and body language, it's easy to forget they are just acting. And inside these "lost boys" are real men struggling to get out.

Making, and enjoying, a commitment to watch Showtime's new dramedy The Big C requires a deliberate decision to ignore nagging questions. Such as: Why are so many of the TV and cinematic cancer stories of the past few decades about women? And in an era when more and more of us know someone with cancer, or have experienced it directly, does that mean that we are now ready to embrace the subject as entertainment? Dwell too long on those questions, and what is good about The Big C may pass you by.

We may have seen film of migrating wildebeest and zebras on the Serengeti before. But Great Migrations looks at everything from new and spectacularly beautiful angles.

It consistently pokes fun at our culture and foibles in ways that are clever and sometimes sharp but never mean.

The series is set in modern-day Rome, where the women wear tight skirts, the men are in sharp suits, and even the corruption is exquisite in its labyrinthine complexity.

Jokes like that ["You gonna go all 'Twilight' on me?"] and the wisecracking Sally occasionally threaten to turn Being Human into a mild, campy thing. As we get to know the characters, however, and begin to identify with their sense of loss and isolation, humor helps make what is preposterous about their situation seem real.

Hey, it works. Probably because Falling Skies tells a gripping story, full of people whose fate we cannot guess on a playing field whose contours are not yet clear.

Director Liz Garbus conveys much of the excitement and turmoil surrounding the subject of her documentary, Bobby Fischer Against the World.

The glory of this particular adaptation, intentional or not, is that what we bring to it with today's sensibilities can actually enhance the experience.

All of us have common memories of that time. Yet this quiet but affecting program is Mr. Bush's story, told as only the man who was president on Sept. 11, 2001 could tell it.

This is Southland, where the emotional underpinnings of the main characters give the show its outstanding grace and depth.

It is the small things that can elevate Mad Men above the level of ambitious soap opera.

Strong writing and acting ensure that we soon become so sensitive to the characters that we feel for them the way they feel for their horses.

The TV series picks up perfectly where the movie left off, adding spice along the way.

All good stuff, plus a brief but powerful moment at the end that will leave longtime "Morse" fans in an agony of nostalgia

No sooner has Upstairs veered toward farce than it redeems itself, again and again.

After only one episode it's clear that the more we learn about each of them, the more we will want to know.

There's enough room left in the genre for another modern pairing, and Mr. Miller and Ms. Liu bring something memorably new to each character.

Longmire is the best of two worlds: a modern crime drama with dry wit and sometimes heart-wrenching emotion that's also got a glorious setting under the big sky of Wyoming.

Vide Shakespeare and all the other roles, Mr. Branagh has never been better cast.

It is neither a cheap thrill or too painful to watch these lost souls being drilled in first impressions.

Although the film ends on an odd note that seems to endorse near-subsistence farming as the only moral and sustainable form of agriculture, it makes an important record of a receding era.

Most of the editors here have charm and pizazz that seem more appealing than the photographs they masterminded.

This new PBS Masterpiece series written by Andrew Davies is plenty addicting without the lords and ladies, opening a treasure box of tales about love, loss, ambition and the spirit of a new age.

As painful as it is to see a fallen dog's body draped in the American flag, what Glory Dogs also does is deepen our appreciation for the servicemen who train them.

As odd as poor Norman is, there's something about Norma that gives Bates Motel its true, and truly frightening, center. Vulnerable and malign, Ms. Farmiga pretty much nails it.

While they are every bit as wild and woolly as the historical figures of Norse sagas, such is the power of Vikings that we come to know and even root for them, so enthralling are they and almost everything else here.

Behind the Candelabra, a snapshot from the last decade of the pianist and showman Liberace, is sublimely entertaining.

This is a show that has to be watched with full attention since it unfolds so quickly through endless twists and turns.

A slick production.

Some viewers, accustomed to less-original TV fare, may miss having stock gags and situations rammed down their throat. "Sons & Daughters" is a savory for more discerning palates.

Any way you portray Karol Wojtyla, he comes out looking extraordinary.

Following the show will require some effort for viewers accustomed to less demanding fare.

Ultimately, what makes "Friday Night Lights" compelling is not the football or the cast. It's the accumulation of little details, like the eager faces of the pee-wee players as they meet and respectfully worship the big high-school boys whom they dream of becoming.

Lipstick Jungle has some good things going for it, including actresses in roles that call for slightly more maturity than we're accustomed to, and juicy enough meanies to give it a little suspense.

"Ugly Betty" shines because Ms. Ferrera is luminous and credible as a character surrounded by caricatures. It's a strange mixture, but it works.

No contestant wants to hear that his or her artistic creation looks "like a litter box" or something at "an assisted-living facility." But we do. And we lap the insults up.

While "Broken Trail" is plot driven and not without action, it is most of all a languid elegy about the olden days on the Western ranges.

Despite his nearly affectless face and inflectionless voice, Mr. Duchovny does fill the screen as Hank, forcing us to take his side whether we like it or not.

Good fun, and not as bastardized as its advertising campaign suggests.

Journeyman has a decent hook.

What Back to You lacks in bite, it compensates for with chemistry and pure talent. The center of it all is the relationship between Chuck and Kelly, and Mr. Grammer and Ms. Heaton work together like they have been doing it all their lives.

Even viewers who had thought they never wanted to hear about a dimpled chad again will find that Recount moves along at a satisfying clip and can make the old drama and suspense seem surprisingly fresh.

Set as far as possible from the canyons of New York, the series has a cool, original look--despite its C-movie moments when burly guys in black jackets zoom down the highway to the accompaniment of country metal rock.

The plots are complex enough to sustain mystery, and if the mean streets of Toronto aren’t all that scary, this is a good thing for a show that is trying not to shock, but to entertain.

Dead Set is less remarkable, because this import from the U.K. is more typical of the genre and gets campy, although it will scare the bejeebers out of you.

Kenneth Branagh is perfect as one of its broken-down men. His face telegraphs defeat even as he relentlessly answers the call to duty, on a cell phone that never stops ringing with news of another crime.

In many respects, HBO's The Alzheimer's Project is nearly identical to the Emmy-winning PBS Alzheimer's presentation, "The Forgetting," which was first broadcast in 2004 and updated last year.

He's Washington, D.C., consultant Cal Lightman, helping authorities solve crimes and suss out liars by reading their facial gestures and demeanor cues. As science, this is a slim reed indeed, but it can make stories go around.

Certainly things will get more exciting in future episodes, when everybody throws powerful stink bombs at Japanese ships, for instance, and--not for the first time in his career--Mr. Watson steals the show.

The show’s writers and producers may be trying to force-feed her to us as the health-care equivalent of the whore with a heart of gold. But Ms. Falco manages to shake off clichés and attract us to her for reasons never referred to in the script.

Sons of Tucson has a sharp edge that can be funny even as it makes you feel uneasy for laughing.

What women really want was never more simply put than in the CW's compelling Vampire Diaries.

While some criminals may escape, it's all happening in sunny Hawaii; and every time bad guys kick up a fuss, we know the good guys will kick back harder. The closing line, 'Book 'em, Danno,' may be a cultural joke, but it also sounds good as a promise.

Hearing the opening notes of "New York, New York" and seeing Tom Selleck at the start of the show may hurt some viewers like a retro kick in the gut. Yet by the end of the pilot a new, hip-hoppish version of that old tune cements Blue Bloods in the here and now, even if the here and now is a wee bit squaresville.

Its pilot episode (which will be repeated Saturday from 8-9 p.m.) felt like a fusion of "E.T." and a "Frontline" documentary on Guantanamo.

Terra Nova stakes out its own universe, and the fact that we have been on such journeys before may enhance the experience of this one.

Some fans apparently don't think the sloe-eyed blond actor Jamie Campbell Bower is studly and thrusting enough for Arthur. But boyishness gives him room to grow, and there is plenty that's masterly about Joseph Fiennes as Merlin, who is occasionally seen in a studded hoodie and always shrouded in mystery, but other otherwise all man.

While the tale is not always exciting and the parade of suits grows blurry at times, other times Fail takes on the urgency of an imminent nuclear disaster. Shop talk, cutting quips and appropriately ominous music add atmospherics.

The whole enterprise is less goosed and glitzy than NBC's successful show, "The Voice." But it's easier to concentrate that way, on the experts who know what they want and talk to the contestants with a brutal honesty that's still softer than the real world.

What's appealing here is that they, and the show, manage to create something close to real drama, including stretches where there is not a gag in sight.

As the series proceeds, the fiction of the bigger events--e.g. global immortality--is made believable or at least compelling by tiny touches that perfectly anticipate how society would respond.

Take the back stories, add the unfolding drama of love, loss, disappearances and danger, shake it all up with exotic locales from Paris and Berlin to Monaco and Rio--and it could be a tasty cocktail

Another preposterous television premise perhaps, but one that may be comforting to viewers looking for gentle escape with dash of uplift and hope.

It can be genuinely scary (the pilot has a "Lovely Bones" vibe that's not for children). But it has wit too, and avoids camp.

As familiar as this tableau may be, Hell on Wheels finds enough beauty, danger and emotion to make some part of every episode seem fresh and worth waiting for.

It's hard to know why a conventional sitcom turns out to be better than average, with some of the same appeal--mapcap and yet still warm and relatively gimmick-free--as the 1980s' "Kate & Allie."

The story occasionally gets convoluted, or slightly exhausting....But the cast is so strong that there is always something to marvel at.

Jerry Lewis is not only a "genius," a word that crops up so often that only in show business would such an outpouring not be mistaken for parody.

Inquiring minds who liked "Lost," or "The 4400" and "The Event" will find much to feast on.

An elaborate mystery is always compelling, and here, episode after episode, we search for clues, for some sign that will let us distinguish between reality and imagination.

It's still a fun, fast ride, with lots of twists and turns, murder and menace, and after only a few episodes we know enough back story about most of the main characters to care what happens to them.

The latest version of Treasure Island on Syfy, stands out as a gem--although some plot changes for the sake of agitprop make it a flawed one.

When all is said and done, none of these back stories is as inspiring as what happens when these people open their mouths and just sing.

The stage is thus set for an epic showdown between the dogged Lamb and Vincent, under whose calm facade lies a vicious shark of a man.

Political Animals crams elements of conventional TV fare into a blender and makes something that is wildly different and kind of liberating.

The accomplishment here is that tight writing and editing, a solid cast with good timing and Mr. Sheen's chops as the ne plus ultra of sitcom performers, make the whole thing feel, if not entirely fresh-then crisp.

Nobody here offers shattering insights into the meaning of life or even of modeling. They're just among a large group of attractive women telling stories to the camera.

Fun even when it's ludicrous, forgivable when the clichés fly.

The vibe so far is part "Hunt for Red October," part "Lord of the Flies."

The tapestry of characters in George R.R. Martin's fantasy kingdom has grown so huge now that only the most avid fan can hope to identify them all, let alone keep track of the family ties, alliances and enmities which make this quasimedieval world so dangerous to nearly everyone in it.

[The Renaissance and Leonardo] bring moments of transcendent beauty to the series, which was written by David S. Goyer, and is laced with aha moments of glorious invention and the scent of mysticism. The line between mystery and bafflement is a thin one, though, and at times it is impossible to tell what's going on or who's who in the flickering torchlight. There is also a distraction, at least initially, in the portrayal of Leonardo--who comes across as a weird amalgam of Peter Pan, MacGyver and a Chippendale.

While the show is full of comic highs and witty insight, it isn't funny all the time because some of the jokes are disappointingly crude.

The language in "Huff" is still graphic and foul. What redeems it, as always, is the artful acting and occasional small scenes of quiet beauty.

You don't have to be under 30 to enjoy this. It's no more, or less, ridiculous than ABC's massively-hyped hit about sex, love and secrets among housewives and other oldsters.

After the male action sequences, alas, the feminine interludes tend to be soporific.

Ultimately, though, it's not what happens to the folks on this show that is so revealing. It's what goes on in our own minds as we watch and listen to them try to navigate the shoals of racial differences.

"Jericho" doesn't pretend to be artistically risky, but it's got a scary and gripping theme in an age of terrorism and nuclear thuggery.

All of this might seem silly if it weren't for Mr. Goldblum.

Here's hoping that the strong whiff of sanctimony in the pilot of "Studio 60" is blown away by fresh air in future episodes.

The pilot moves along at a cracking pace, introducing new clues and characters and settings so fast that it's very tempting to sit back and enjoy the ride, ludicrous though some of it may be.

You don't have to be a New Yorker to enjoy ESPN's eight-part miniseries, The Bronx is Burning, although it might help.

For those of us who can't be bothered to decipher the mumbo jumbo, let alone take it seriously, there is diversion enough in each episode's discrete inner story, which doesn't require a mental decoder ring.

No doubt Dollhouse will make a good computer game, although it looks like one already.

While little of this is boring, the movie only sizzles and sparks when it jumps out of flashback mode and into the 1950s "present," with Ms. MacLaine as a slightly cranky and tottering but totally grand old dame.

The humor in Community is so soft that it will likely please only the tenderhearted. The river that runs through it is a comforting one, though.

Showtime's new comedy series la la land can be torture to watch, whether you end up choking with laughter or cringing at the sight of well-meaning folks being made fools of.

Over a mere three episodes for this season, it is difficult to know most of the characters. Some, like Sir Hallam, seem only half-drawn. Agnes's sister Lady Persie (Claire Foy)--a debutante who's become a fascist fangirl--is repellant in an uninteresting way. There are some plot touches, involving minorities, that clang as too modern. Then again, when the Duke of Kent cries over his brother Edward's abdication--"It's the sort of thing that happens in Romania"--memories of what was so entrancing about the original show come wafting back.

Unfolding simultaneously in two distinct worlds, the series has an enchanting premise, even if it plods at times when it should sparkle and soar.

Mr. Ramsay is not quite the raging beast in "Hotel Hell" that he is in his own kitchens.

One must be anesthetized for the series to have its desired effect of making us root for Underwood or at least feel suspense until each of his miniplots pans out to successful competition. Yet rapacious viewing will be numbing too, and not in a useful way.

The result is ridiculous; but it's far more amusing than Hollywood Squares, which is where other formerly famous go to die.

Yes, it's all fairly formulaic.

The main thing in its favor is the chemical tension between its stars. That may not be enough, but it's something.

Despite its updated gloss and cast, in fact, Raising the Bar doesn't really break a mold.

Kings, which also serves up melodrama and mystical happenings, is far more ambitious [than Aaron Spellings' shows]. Yet it can have the effect of a real sleep potion.

It seems determined to eschew high style in favor of a flat, dark world that's appropriately grim yet also numbingly static.

The series might be more fun if "jobmother" Hayley Taylor didn't have to stop each time she utters a harsh truth and comfort an angry or weeping spouse.

[Why do] The husbands come across as total bums? Not just because of the way they lounge around all day moaning about how hard (sniff) it is (sniff) not to be able to provide for their family. They dress like bums, too.

Magic City is a little slow at getting under our figurative skin.

[The show is] so tame, in fact, that viewers may be forgiven for hoping, against their better instincts, that things get a little wilder, if not more wanton, down the road.

There is some suspense here, even if it is mainly because the violence when it comes is so swift and sickening. But the show still feels slack.

It's a good refresher course, but not a hugely gripping one.

Much of this is utter nonsense. Life at a real fertility clinic is certainly a lot more humdrum, with fewer sexy nurses and doctors, a lower success record and longer debates about which clients to treat.

After just one episode, I was interested enough to make a mental note to watch the final one someday, just to see who won and what the race was all about. People with more time on their hands and a tolerance for utter implausibility may choose to make the whole journey.

There is a lot that is ridiculous here.

It's all done in an over-the-top, low-budget sort of way.

If you can view The Company's as a basic thriller, and ignore its gaffes, you'll find entertainment here.

In other words, deconstructionists of the world, there is nothing here for you. Nor, it must be said, for anyone who is not entertained by family-friendly fare. Perhaps future episodes will get down and dirty. So far, however, the series is straight as an arrow.

Ms. Hunt gets some humorous lines, and the banter between partners Callen and Hanna can make them seem like a new-age Starsky and Hutch.

The production has a satisfyingly brooding, ominous look and it's possible to see the basic appeal for role-players and other fans of a realm that provides a limitless playing field for their own imaginations. Thrones also has wolf pups, which is always cool. But then we're back to the familiar favorites of the infantile.

Amid memorable villains, Dickens always gave us someone to like and root for. It's hard to find anyone to cheer on here.

[It] leaves only the flashes of comedic brilliance, and even they don't light up the sky very often.

This light-as-a-feather comedy can be fun.

Truth be told, Game Change does not make anyone look good.

Judging only by the results of the first episode, the crowd that rules by voting here is more easily excited by entrepreneurs with sappy slogans than by the ones with sound business plans.

The grotesqueries of "Dexter" are not something that can easily be dismissed with the old "you don't have to watch" line. We don't have to watch. We do have to live among the viewers who will be desensitized, or aroused, by this show.

"The State Within" has so many inauthentic touches, that-would-never-happen moments, and is so often off in the details, that it's difficult to take seriously.

We're left with a heap of hocus-pocus that will offend some viewers and seem pretentious or silly to others.

Perhaps Tara will, over time, find something interesting to say. Perhaps it will be about the trauma that presumably led to the split in Tara's personality. Right now, however, what makes the show so painful is the abuse of her children, inflicted by Tara both in and out of split mode, and abetted by her pathologically laid-back husband.

It was nothing short of painful recently to watch the first episode of NBC's "Who Do You Think You Are?"--one of the more interestingly focused reality shows--about efforts, by a handful of celebrities, to trace their ancestors

Suffice it to say that Bravo has found yet another group of not-very-appealing women to represent their gender and, more broadly speaking, the lifestyle of the heterosexual cheeseball.

Jules will search for self-esteem in frequent sex and the proof that she is still "hot." Such a quest could be made funny, but here it mostly isn't. Ms. Cox is struggling with some ugly material and often seems desperate.

Gold Rush is jaw-dropping television. Not only are most of these men total boobs and incompetents, but their stupidity borders on criminal at times.

Some shading aside, some occasional twinges of remorse, nothing can hide the fact that these people have no souls to lose, no character to develop. Apart from looking for "Godfather" homage moments, there isn't more to root for here than there is at a cage fight.

Over five-plus hours, the miniseries would have had time to explore every nuance. But there are so few that rise above artifice, and so little dramatic action driving the plot, that even an actor as talented as Ms. Winslet can hardly fill the dead spaces.

In the three episodes HBO made available to reviewers, however, the only moment of transcendence for the viewer occurs when some of the characters take to the sea on their boards and ride the waves in an "Endless Summer" moment that comes as a blessed relief after the inexplicable chaos of what precedes it -- and is over too soon.

As they stumble from one brutal act to another, accompanied by a hip rock soundtrack, we're not watching dramatic art; it's more like "Dawson's Creek" for psychopaths.