What makes these episodes feel extra-special is the sense of purpose to them. There's a big story being told here--not one that requires you to watch every episode (though your funny bone will thank you if you do), but one that seems to raise the stakes for everyone involved, and which makes the jokes funnier, the characters richer, in the process.

They know how great the show looks, they know how much their actors can give them, and they know just how much they can get away with.

Normal is overrated. Give me whimsy, dreams and Evil Troy and Evil Abed any day. Give me extraordinary. Give me Community.

The premiere suggests that the only other show that belongs with it in the discussion for the best drama on television is the same one we were talking about last season. At the top level, there is "Breaking Bad," and there is also--finally, thankfully, exceptionally--Mad Men, and then there is everything else.

As the follow-up to an incredibly strong debut season, it's even more fun.

It definitely has a voice, and it's a great one: witty and wise and warm and not exactly like anything you've heard before.

Louie viewers don't know exactly what they're getting in any given week, but the show is so elastic that nothing it tries feels like something it shouldn't.

Even with Walt's apparent victory over all who would seek to deny him, his genius and his strength, Breaking Bad is still a perfect model of filmed suspense.

It continues to be one of the most satisfying dramas in the history of the medium.

This doesn't feel like a factory product, but a work of individual, beautiful craftsmanship.

Silly or sober, Louie is one of the best shows on television.

While there are many extraordinary moments in the new season, there's still enough inconsistency that I'm still waiting for it to become the classic drama it so clearly has the tools to be.

Homeland functions terrifically as both a thriller and a commentary on our post-post-9/11 world, where the War on Terror and the concept of being constantly under surveillance are both facts of life.

Because the bond between them is so strong, all the show's disparate pieces - the filthy comedy and the desperation, the joy and the depression - hold together just as well.

The sheer number of colorful characters maneuvering keeps things lively.

It's clear and engaging and moving to this novice.

Over the 10 episodes of the new season, Tremé remains outstanding at what it sets out to do.

It's still Homeland, and it's good.

It's a treat to be back in this world again, and perhaps by the end of this season I'll feel happier about the crime arc than I did about the spy stuff.

By forcing Raylan to retrace his father's decades-old steps, Yost is reinventing his show yet again, but he's also going deeper into the heart and mind of the man with the big hat and gun.

Based on the admittedly small sample size of two episodes, The Americans feels like it could very comfortably slot in with the upper tier of FX dramas. That's about as good as it gets.

This is an absolute: Top of the Lake is great.

Fuller and company do an impressive job of balancing Lecter's machinations, Graham's emotional problems, and the other killers that Graham and Crawford have to stop, in a way that never descends into formula.

For some, the six hours of Rectify will feel like a very slow sentence indeed. For others, the performances, the very clear sense of time and place, the beautiful images and the thoughtful things the series has to say about life, death and spirituality will feel like no time at all.

It's not an ambitious show. It doesn't have the historical sweep and dazzling visuals of something like HBO's upcoming "Boardwalk Empire." Yet in trying to tell good old-fashioned detective stories featuring a pair of leads I kept wanting to spend time with, it quickly joined "Boardwalk" as one of my two favorite new shows of this fall.

The darker and more complicated life gets for the Sons, the better the TV show tends to be. And based on the four episodes I've seen, Sons is still at the incredible level it achieved a year ago, when it became one of the best dramas on television.

It's so small and spare and simple, and yet it can be incredibly effective at what it does. Nice to have it back.

Thanks to the sharp writing of Warren Leight and a revelatory lead performance by obscure journeyman actor Holt McCallany, Lights Out is a reminder of why Hollywood keeps making boxing stories. Because when they're done well, they're irresistible.