There is no fear in this show or any of the doom, shame, ignominy or flat-out reprobation that comes with getting one's head handed to one by the Donald.... Without fear, there is no danger and without danger, no drama.

A few new faces from last season are back, but the formula remains ironclad, right down to the soaring courtroom rhetoric and McCoy's somewhat suspect ethical calculus. This comfort food remains comfortable, indeed.

Second-season expectations for Glee are almost too high. Potential reality series, movies, spinoffs, tours, record contracts...the surround sound that's jacked up around this hit is now officially deafening. Unrelenting distractions can push series off their game, and there's evidence tonight Glee is off its game.

Dogs is a perfectly pleasant show based on the perfectly reasonable proposition that dogs are people, too.

A re-energized and immensely entertaining start to the third season.

Above-average newcomer with a great actor in the leading role and frosty grace notes throughout.

A show that is so achingly familiar - in content, tone, stars, everything - that it's actually funny.

The pilot is flawed (most pilots are), not particularly funny and even--bizarrely--deploys two bland jokes from the "Weeds" premiere at 10 (did the writers trade notes?). But Falco is good, proving that she can transcend Carmela Soprano.

This is a gentle, good-hearted series and Scott was pretty much born to play Precious. But LDA can also be willfully, stubbornly languid.

Manhunt isn't out to settle scores, but explain the laborious process of intelligence gathering. No one here is looking for a citation, but understanding, and that's what "Manhunt" does best, as well as--yes--connect some dots.

There are many enjoyable performances by many wonderful actors, including Baranski, Panjabi and, the nicest surprise of all, David Paymer, who plays a judge. But you've seen much of this before.

It's got some charm and there's some humor here, too--mstly at Jones' expense. But seriously, don't you have something better to do tonight?

The thing looks stylish, has a nice cast, is well written, and Bratt--scruffy, unkempt, a little more than off-center here--has the requisite intensity for the role. But it also is jarringly slick and borderline seamy; maybe that's just part of the fast world Banks and his cohorts find themselves in, but the tone ultimately robs the show--or at least the pilot--of heart and passion.

The Tenth Inning is dutiful, sober and thoughtful. No spitballs are thrown. No banned substances have been added to bloat it up to obscene, grotesque proportions. What is missing in at least tonight's installment is surprise, or the pleasant shock of learning something brand new or unexpected.

The result is often funny, ridiculous, bathetic and silly. Plus, watchable. Against all odds, this might actually be a good closing season.

What's here is pitch-perfect - the fear, loss, emotional devastation and, peculiar to this disease, silence.

Still fun, but the innocent first moments last season were better.

Still sweet and sad, but often dour and slow, too.

Monday's pilot can't quite close the sale, but there's promise here. The Chicago Code deserves another look.

It's lackadaisical, weary, bland and off-center.

No relaxing allowed with Boss. Sorry about that, and sorry for this series, which remains smart, absorbing and particularly well done.

Sunday's episode is a necessary decompression episode after last season's intense finale.

Good start to the third season, and from what I sampled, it builds from there.

It's smartly acted, well written, funny, expertly directed and hugely entertaining. And utterly, totally, profoundly devoid of pretension.

It's bright! It's energetic! It has that sort of dialogue that zips, zaps and zings! It's even ironic! Yet, at its very core, Motherhood is completely vacant.

Veep is the single most improved series on television.

A rare HBO misfire--but I do hope Amy finds peace.

A sweet, gentle, good-natured trifle that is (nonetheless) surprisingly airless and only rarely funny, if that.