Unfortunately, the young actors on display aren’t compelling enough to make us care much beyond their sometimes stupidly self-induced crises.

Angst is saved for the final two minutes when Hank is alone, driving at night or sitting in the dark, supposedly brooding over his inability to...what, fit one more lay into the day? Because it’s a false dilemma this dishonest, unfunny, dispiritingly crude show presents.

Lipstick Jungle is a strangely dour affair--its shadowy, chilly depiction of New York fits right alongside the NBC house style of Law & Order--and is almost misshapen in its clunky blend of drama and comedy.

Not helping matters... are the wretched dialogue, indiscriminately moody lighting, stock characters (gruff boss, dweeby tech guy, ripped chauvinist colleague), and crushing lack of suspense.

The show is too diffuse, hokey and self-consciously portentous to suggest suspenseful possibility.

3 Lbs. seems like microwaved leftovers.

Secret Diary of a Call Girl is the kind of hotly lit, coldly stylized dreck that purports to be classy, high-minded softcore but is actually as witless and dreary as, well, paid-for jollies.

Hunter seems to mostly flail in a show that is too unremarkable for her talents.

The series quickly begins to resemble one of those fake sitcoms you’d see in a snide movie that likes to take easy potshots at low culture.

In Plain Sight already seems tired with its crime-of-the-week, flawed-protagonist self.

Rarely rises above the level of cut-and-dried cops-and-bad-guys tale.

Based on the pilot of Emily’s Reasons Why Not, there’s no worry that this half hour from ABC... will be honest, or real, or even funny.

This is one decidedly unfrightening resurrection of the Night Stalker.

It mistakes boorishness for zaniness.