The first lines of this new chapter were promising, if not quite the fulfillment of his last wild nights at NBC, when caution was thrown to the wind.

Although the pilot feels somewhat made-to-order and its characters are schematically arrayed - press materials describe them as "the everyday couple" (Kyle Bornheimer and Christine Woods), "the high-passion couple" (David Walton and Mary Elizabeth Ellis) and "the couple that strives to be perfect" (Hayes MacArthur and Olivia Munn)--subsequent episodes grow looser and more natural, even as they get stranger.

For all its flaws, there's something attractively amiable about Harry's Law. A little more grit, a little less speechifying, and a better verdict might yet arrive.

This is only an average situation comedy, but even the great ones have worn that makeup.

As is the case with pilots, the seams tend to show--the bountiful expository dialogue makes no effort to veil its purpose, and the production is a tad too insistent that we find these scamps charming. But they are fairly charming at that, and though the spy stuff is all unconvincing hokum, the company is easy to bear.

Pope is a likeable woman, smart and sensible. Although the Difficult Boss is a common feature of Bravo series, by network standards she is egoless as the Buddha. Indeed, as a protector of the almost-born from the fuzzy thinking and distracted inattention of their parents, she is a bastion of perspective.

I can't say I found much of Workaholics especially funny, but neither do I have it in my heart to hate it. On a craft level, it's very nicely made, the actors are weirdly appealing, and its spirit is not mean, but sweet.

Crimson Petal could lose an hour without sacrificing a single scene or word of dialogue, and it would still seem slow and moody.

Too Big to Fail is pretty consistent low-key entertainment if not exactly enlightening (because it is an impersonation of the truth) or gripping (because we already know how it sort of ends).

Still, for all the unlikely things the Gaytons make happen in order to get their characters into place, and the dogged refusal of a couple of those characters to become interesting at all, the show gathers steam as it goes on.

None of the characters--including the usual smart hot girl, mean hot girl and mean hot guy--range beyond well-established types, and the show would have to stand on a chair to aim any lower. But it is mostly sweet-tempered and oddly moral, and, as I write these words, I do not hate it.

New show runner Joshua Safran has, in any case, declared himself a fan of the show, promising changes more surgical than wholesale, a promise disappointing in its way. Nevertheless, he has trimmed much deadwood.

Much about the pilot felt flat or programmatic to me, but much was likable as well, especially the nonchalant tenderness between the male leads. And the cast is good.

Whatever else you make of it--and it's enough to say that if you like this sort of thing, you will like this thing--it's all, or partly, for a good cause.

Though it is flat and obvious at times, and some might call it ill-paced--I think of it as leisurely--it is only a little sanctimonious and not at all stuffed.

[Scott Baio's] naturally relaxed presence mitigates the show's more hectic leanings.

The celebration and surrender are enough to put the viewer in a vicarious good mood, no matter how unconvincing its context.

There are enough interesting ideas inherent in the material to warrant giving The Americans a chance, and interesting enough ideas that one wishes a little more attention were being paid to them, and a little less to the usual spy-jinks.

As drama, it's uneven, often cliched, even silly, but, like the store in which it's set--and whose ground floor, mezzanine and facade have been splendidly re-created--so variously stocked that you will likely find something here to take home.

All of the wives are more interesting than their husband. Paxton's character remains a problem for me and, as the pole on which this tent depends, a crucial one.

I suppose there are women in the world as empty as the instantly beddable Maxim babes the producers habitually drape around their boys, but it would help to give them even something stupid to say -- it strikes a wrong note, this neo-retro sexism, even if it accurately reflects the world view of the characters or, indeed, their actual world. It's a failing that even the presence of Debi Mazar (great, as always) as Vince's publicist and the intriguing Samaire Armstrong (from "The O.C.") as Eric's budding love interest does not redeem. [17 July 2004, p.E1]

Although we are meant to regard its dishonest protagonists as the epitome of contemporary cool, they come off as self-satisfied and pretentious.

Polished and lively, it is also simplistic, melodramatic and half-baked — though it clips along nicely enough that you may not notice.

[Gilbert] seems like a real person, even in such a cartoon as this is.

That the story... snakes around a lot, tossing supernatural red herrings in its wake, keeps it oddly compelling, even as it grows increasingly preposterous, not only as regards the supernatural but as to how people really act.

"Threshold" is a comic book, and passable as such.

It's a decent enough show, a soap opera essentially, playing around with heavy themes and life-changing events but lightweight enough not to make you think too hard or keep you glued to the television when you decide you want something from the refrigerator — the TV equivalent of a beach book.

Like "Martha," in which she is required to appear interested in celebrities and to whip up the crowd, "The Apprentice" is not a perfect fit.