The creatures are essentially designed as bowling pins for our protagonists to knock over with a well-placed shot and a quip, and Keeslar and Morales’ interaction is nothing if not playful and lively. But you’re left not really knowing if you want to come return and spend a whole lot more time with this quarrelsome twosome.

Her way lets viewers glimpse at parts of her personal life (her house, her parents) but carefully withholds other details.

The truth is it really isn't so horrible after all.

We don't get a great deal of character development, nor do we always get the truth, but with Coco, there is plenty to see and do.

It takes on an early thrilling ride, only to inexplicably start coasting when we need it to shift to the next gear.

Big on style but more challenged in terms of substance, Seeker demonstrates much production savvy but at the same time too little provocative/evocative interaction aside from the ultra-violent kind.

While it remains true there is nothing new under the sun--in this case, quite literally--the new CBS series Game Show in My Head happens to be legitimately entertaining and a kick to watch.

There have been far nastier hidden-camera efforts than this. Better ones, too. Yet to be sure, in the opening hour, Howie Do It at least delivers laughs more often than it inspires groans.

The action often is energetic and intriguing but is sometimes brought down by Fimmel's uneven performance. The rest of the supporting cast acquits itself well, and Swayze manages to bring the words of scribes Vincent Angell and William L. Rotko to menacing life.

All in all, this isn't a half-bad political thriller. It just would have been better had it been about half as long.

As is the case with nearly all sketch-comedy series, this one from "The Daily Show" alum Demetri Martin--and produced by Jon Stewart's Busboy Prods.--is very much hit-and-miss, with the misses outnumbering the hits in the first installment and the hits predominating in the second.

It's a well-made show with a proven template, but others including "Ivana Young Man" and "Age of Love" have trod this road before.

We like noble efforts. But we tend to like them better on television when they're accompanied by a sense of pacing and entertainment value. (If things were otherwise, PBS would rule the universe.) In this case, a few more spoonfuls of sugar might have helped this medicine go down.

After one show, let's say he's a work in progress.

Pains succeeds because of Lohan. As Thea, a publishing-house secretary living on the financial brink who rashly lies that she's pregnant just before her boss fires her, Lohan is a bright light in the center of an otherwise a fair-to-middling telefilm.

Leno himself? Comfortable and comforting, enthusiastic but not too much so, apparently ready to just get back to the job of making middle-of-the-road laughs.

There are intriguing elements amid the clutter: Policeman Frank Leo (Aaron Douglas) is a beefy, moral man of the people who in the process of rallying the troops becomes a target for the police brass.

The real surprise is that, for all the times King has taken us down this creepy path, he can still evoke chills and thrills over and over again.

A second half that bogs down and suspect chemistry will deter some viewers from finding out what really happened at the end of Casanova's days.

The talented cast isn't quite as successful in getting past the shortcomings of a teleplay (from Rhimes, naturally) that's typically light on believability and heavy on the outrageous.

Brisk, sharp and surprisingly emotional for what essentially is a series of venture-capital-investment interviews, the show--based on the Japanese format "Dragons' Den"--balances the human element of its wish-fulfilling conceit with at least the illusion of the business legitimacy that made Burnett's "The Apprentice" such campy fun.

The new series boasts eye-catching animation and dollops of sex and violence but only enough humor to elicit occasional chuckles. If you eliminate the references to sexual perversions, even the smiles are few and far between.

A breezy, bright trip to the dark side in which star Rebecca Romijn's hair magically stays well-coiffed and Paul Gross has a devil of a time making his smoky tones not recall Jack Nicholson's in the movie.

Cleveland has a few delightfully outrageous moments, along with several that are gratuitously gross ("hot fur," anyone?), but its most disconcerting element is its significant resemblance to "Family Guy."

Sherri is a slip of a comedy, an appetizer yearning to be the main course.

The show benefits from a true insider's feel of the biz, and that helps spackle over the softer spots. Given half a chance, Deep should get along swimmingly.

Town's premise remains an enigma at the end of its first episode; there are a lot of introductions to be made and not so much time for plot.

There's nothing really wrong with Scoundrels, but it's just hard to see what's special about it, either.

The pilot comes across top-heavy with exposition and flashbacks that lay out a dense backstory. While a rich mythology typically is mandatory for an espionage series to attract a cult following, it could prove a barrier to entry when piled too high at the beginning.

Wilde is a fast-paced grab bag; it's hard not to like a character who dunderheadedly imports an Amazon tribe to a five-star hotel rather than tell his dad not to drill on their land, all to prove he's a decent guy. But for now, audiences will have to sort through the good stuff and toss aside the lumps of coal that keep "Wilde" from being a truly wild ride.

So far, sort of good: twists in the tale, the doink-doink sound, few if any establishing shots. But the series takes a truly unfortunate turn when it follows the villains around, giving away the whodunit and scattering the tension to the Santa Ana winds.

Part of the hedging about Mr. Sunshine stems from her role. In the pilot, it's a wildly over-the-top portrayal that's simultaneously fun to witness but worrisome as to whether Janney can pull it off every week.

Judging from the first of six hours that will air, this might be the perfect series where you can plop on the couch, pop a beer and think, "This is all a little odd."

Body of Proof doesn't break any new ground as a procedural and has more than enough hokey moments to make you look elsewhere. But as a case study of how and why star vehicles get made, this is textbook.

Despite all its shortcomings, Platinum Hit succeeds in holding your interest. First off, save for Jewel, the personalities here are quirky enough that you can't predict how they're going to interact with one another. Second, and more importantly, you find yourself wanting to hear what kind of songs they're going to write, however arbitrary the constraints that have been laid out.

It could be that, like a lot of sitcom pilots, Broke Girls is trying too hard. But when the jokes work, they're funny, so there's hope.

There is a lot of potential in this series. It's just a shame that it appears to be veering away from something completely different--something darker and more sci-fi and ambitious, and settling into the feel-good, be-safe vibes of both Jurassic Park and Avatar.

You should at the very least check out Bello, who does fine work here.

Lilyhammer is an odd little series with potential.

Doomsday Preppers could have been a grade-A hour of gawker television on par with the likes of Extreme Couponing and Hoarders. Unfortunately, the inclusion of an "expert assessment" of our protagonists' preparations lands the show on thin ethical ice.

Anger Management is really just a slightly more content-dangerous network sitcom.

Instead of going in-depth with a few models, there's a carousel of names and familiar faces each awarded only a few soundbites, taken up mostly with biography, before the camera moves on.

Like many TLC series, a simple fascination with observing a perceived strangeness will pull in most viewers, but the pathos evoked by the struggling five refugees will likely keep people watching.

It's disappointing that this is a diverting curio rather than a deep plunge into the cold waters of obsession.

You find yourself wanting much more of the particulars of each woman's story and less of the overinflated pronouncements from these giants of the profession.

There are so many twists and arbitrary rules to the competition that it can certainly be disconcerting for viewers.

The fun part of this series is watching Doe become aware of his powers and limitations. Purcell supplies all the wonder and charm needed to turn Doe into a fascinating and curious character. [19 Sept 2002]

While the music of Mike Post makes its insistent point, complementing Franz's fine crafting of a hyper-real portrait of a public servant that's effective in a heightened way, NYPD's overall impact is all too self-consciously wrought to engender quieter, deeper aspects that would truly flesh out the fictional lives assayed here. [21 Sept 1993]

While the collection doesn't necessarily bring anything new to the table in its quick portrayals, it does at times successfully ignite an emotional response (a trait that also makes it exhausting.)

If you've seen the original with Donald Trump, there is scarcely a need to view this carbon copy.

It pulsates with the requisite flash and dash we've come to expect of a Bruckheimer outing, in this case rather like "JAG" on steroids. But at the end of the day it rings emotionally hollow.

Now and then, there are instances in which the profilers, and Gideon in particular, literally walk out of one scene and into another. It's a nice touch and a visually creative change of pace, but it's not enough -- not even with frequent shots of Patinkin's expressive face -- to distinguish this series in a particularly crowded genre.

At times, it seems more intent on chasing a demographic than entertaining it.

Perhaps inevitably, with all that focus on the educational component, the story gets short shrift.

"Vampire Bats" doesn't exactly have the makings of classic horror (or even Halloween) fare, but it's decent enough for a spell or two.

"Knight School"... offers an unusual opportunity to see a coaching legend in his native habitat, but watching him work ultimately leaves a sour aftertaste.

When the show clicks, as it does in several scenes, the improvised performances have a more natural look and feel than typical sitcom scripts. Elsewhere, the comedy feels forced and staged.

The strengths of "Conviction" are its talented, attractive cast and clever stories about prosecutions that never are what they appear to be.... At the same time, this business of chasing a younger demo is still kind of new to the producers. There are moments when credibility gives way to exaggerated vulnerability.

Like its well-heeled progenitor "Laguna Beach," this new "reality drama" is neither reality nor drama. Rather, it's just another fantasy concept that provides an excuse to show telegenic people partying, disrobing and, in this case, making love to the camera -- all set to music.

Little is new here, but it will nonetheless appeal to those who like to watch others play out their lives in the public arena.

A brave and breezy (though slightly uneven) series that is well-cast but not always well-plotted.

For those who make the effort to stay tuned, the reward at the end of the first episode is meager. One hopes for bigger payoffs in subsequent outings.

The harsh reality is that it will be lucky to get the time it needs to figure out how to become the show it was meant to be.

The cinematography is stylish, and the action sequences compare favorably to those shot for larger screens. The acting is good, sometimes even inspired, and yet there is a big problem with the show. Put simply, most of these characters are distasteful and sometimes downright repulsive.

This is not a terrible game.

Although competently produced, the series about doctors who specialize in brain maladies lacks a dramatic spark. Characters aren't fully formed; stories aren't arresting. Sometimes it even seems like the show was created from the transplanted organs of other series.

Intriguing but not entirely satisfying.

Its two leads, the New Zealand music-comedy duo of Jemaine Clement and Bret McKenzie, are deadpan and clever but so cloyingly doofy that they're not only tough to root for but difficult to watch for extended periods as well.

The characters connect mostly on a clinical level, rarely deeper.

Kitchen Nightmares pushes all of the proper emotional buttons to draw we viewers in. But we're never for a moment able to suspend the notion that we, the audience, are being played.

There is both everything going on and nothing going on simultaneously in this CW hour, but the series ultimately could click, depending on where things go from here.

Samantha leaps from place to place as if its rapid pace could conceal the bumpy story line or at least suppress the observation that none of this makes much sense.

To be sure, Flashpoint is a perfectly competent police procedural right down to its convincing weaponry and tactics. However, based on the pilot, it isn't particularly fresh or inventive.

Too often, though, plots are contrived and coincidental (how many times can Kellerman defend clients against the same prosecutor, who just happens to be his girlfriend?) and lack the wonderful surprises that are trademarks of a Bochco production.

Sutter packs the early episodes with colorful dialogue but at the same time so much random violence that it crosses the line to gratuitous.

True Blood, with its constant profanity, gore and banal cruelty, will have a limited appeal. It might become appointment viewing for genre fans even as the rest of us steer clear of Bon Temps.

Alas, the program has little direction and almost no flow.

Creator/producer Shapiro and company do a commendable job establishing the formula early on. The problem is that the concept is by nature wholly repetitive.

The pilot and second installment are fun but utterly implausible, and the chemistry between the leads is passable but mostly forced.

While the premiere episode holds together well (Emily's son learns there's no Santa and shares that with his fellow kindergarteners, sparking a riot; Jane has a date; Rosemary fakes pregnancy), the follow-up episode--featuring a nanny strike, bad teeth and Jane getting locked out of her house--doesn't hold together.

The balance is off, but there is still a sweetness to the show that makes it worth checking out.

The best bits of the series are those that let the characters deliver the punch lines, not become one, and there aren't quite enough to go around.

Listener is a serviceable supernatural drama with legitimate narrative potential that's undercut by its visually bland presentation and geographically nonspecific execution.

Despite all this talent and potential, stereotypes about body image--fat and skinny--are layered on so thick that it's hard to see this show as changing anyone's minds.

This is an utterly predictable comedy (what, you don't think Zack and Billie will fall in love in Season 2, right after he starts dating another chick and Billie has an epiphany?) that's got a few fun lines.

He's funny in a familiar, tasteful way; that blunt edge promised in some of his promos never cuts through too much.

The show's main strength is the admirable comic acting ability of Kelsey Grammer and decent wordsmithing by sitcom veteran Tucker Cawley. But even with those assets, Hank comes across as familiar and formulaic--something you don't mind watching but wouldn't go out of your way to see.

It can be funny at times, like when a draft pick becomes part of a negotiated plea bargain in a criminal case. And there's no denying the strong chemistry among the little-known cast. At other times, though the one-dimensional humor wears thin and the guys nearly become parodies of themselves.

So, it's inoffensive stuff. You won't learn much, but you'll get a few laughs, and while we tend to expect a bit more depth out of Seinfeld, there's far worse out there.

Sure, there's a lot here that sustains more eye-rolling than interested stares, but a little patience might be warranted. Only with future episodes can Liars prove whether it's "Desperate Housewives" for tweens or just another trashy, pretty little error.

Huge gets the details right, but the bigger picture can seem forced, with coincidence and pat resolutions.

It's far from unwatchable, and there's potential in its leads, if they're left to their own devices. It's also possible that this middle-of-the-road sitcom will hit nostalgic buttons in former "Sabrina" and "Blossom" fans.

From the evidence of the pilot, this show lives up to its premise quite squarely: It's a police procedural with a lot of chases, and its lead is thoroughly and consistently hot. But we don't know that much about any of these places, or any of the people doing the chasing, and it's not clear there's that much to know, either.

Although titled The Defenders, there is no mistaking this stubbornly and unaccountably bland legal show for the bold CBS series of the 1960s with the same name.

If you loathe Palin, well, Sarah Palin's Alaska will not change that. If you love Palin, there's probably plenty here to solidify your beliefs.

When Bob's Burgers gets rolling and hints at the smarts that made Home Movies and Dr. Katz so good, it only makes you long for a distancing on the inane, easy-joke riffs that try to be "edgy."

The result is a sometimes compelling, sometimes turgid program that feels equal parts emotional rescue and public relations coup.

Upcoming episodes promises the kind of drama that [executive producer SallyAnn] Solsano has boasted of capturing in Italy: knockout blows, car crashes, arrests and more drunken hook-ups. In other words, welcome back to the Jersey Shore.

How about less ghost, more Margo? That might help A Gifted Man become better than very average.

The drama itself comes across as a hybrid public service announcement and after school special in which each line seems crafted for maximal symbolic impact. As a result it feels more like a heavy-handed therapy session.

The show is a bold idea, and there's hope for the modern-world portions, but it doesn't quite know what it is (or maybe it does, but the audience won't).

There's no shortage of problems on Monster In-Laws, and the explosive promos for the show would lead you to believe that it will turn out to be little more than a Basketball Wives scream-fest in family form. Instead, producers Brent Montgomery (Pawn Stars) and Courtney Montgomery (What the Sell?!) have mercifully opted for the therapy model of reality television.

There's a nagging suspicion that Hell on Wheels, created by Tony and Joe Gayton, doesn't quite know what it wants to be, which may explain why after four hours it seems like a collection of ideas that haven't quite gelled.

There's not much payoff to the premise. Which is a real shame, because there's a good show here somewhere

What Animals is trying to do is take The West Wing and turn it into Dallas. And if you don't like Dallas, that can be a real letdown.

Like a lot of pilots, Animal Practice is messy, and if you don't like the monkey, well, you're probably not coming back.

Though in this inaugural episode the easygoing personalities of the celebrities and the respect everyone shows each other is nice, no one seems able to admit to anger or frustration or any of the other real emotions that bond an audience to the competitors.

Copper has the same problems that AMC's Hell on Wheels does, which is that there's an excellent show there somewhere, just not on the screen.

The series still can't get liftoff because it seems like a limp copy.

Perhaps the worst offense by 666 is that it's not even an ounce scary.

The hour goes by fairly quickly, but it's neither overtly scary nor overtly funny, and mixing those tones is very hard indeed.

If the purpose of the series is to explore a sub-culture lifestyle foreign to most Americans, Discovery's quasi-documentary approach (with educational explanations about Amish community structure, at least in the first episode) does a fair job of covering that. But Hot Snakes Media, who produced the series--and also helmed the controversial Breaking Amish--can't seem to help themselves in adding a kind of "...gone wild!" tag to the end of the endeavor, obliterating anything that feels informational.

There are aspects of Southie Rules that are fun, but ultimately it feels as hollow as an emptied tin of meatballs.

Rather than a self-portrait, this is a scrupulously processed diptych.

There’s not much that’s particularly fresh in Mr. Selfridge beyond the premise, and whether that deserves eight parts is up to you.

How to Live With Your Parents is a fish-out-of-water story, naturally, and thus seems all-too-familiar. But the show is spiked with enough talent (hard to go too wrong with Chalke, Perkins and Garrett) that it could conceivably find an audience.

The Moment produces some genuine emotion, but a lot of it feels too predictable and, worse, generic.

Most of those who are chosen to compete seem worthy of winning, despite questionable polish or know-how. But also like The Job, any competition show that lacks celebrity judges, viewer ability to interact, or even the ability to see any competition besides pleading, may not ultimately draw much of a crowd.

Does Someone Have to Go? is not easy to watch, though it is engrossing to see how alliances are formed and trust is broken.

Although it would be extraordinary for any series to match the level of political complexity and realism of "The West Wing," this one barely tries.

Check your brain at the door and you'll find a potential guilty pleasure lurking within.

Finnigan, who was so right in NBC's loopy comedy "Committed," lacks the heft for the role of the no-nonsense prosecutor. Not that, as written, the role would be easy for anyone. It requires Annabeth to be a vigorous and energetic protagonist and, simultaneously, a weepy young mother with postpartum blues.

A fairly pedestrian comedy that needs all the studio-generated laughter it can muster.

There's little point in critiquing the acting other than to say this isn't a production that will embellish anyone's list of credits. Nearly everyone here is a caricature trying to make the best of a miniseries that is all about the special effects.

Despite its pedigree as a "Hallmark Hall of Fame" presentation, "Silver Bells" is only slightly more sophisticated than an after-school special.

This depiction of John Paul II as half human, half saint -- though hardly unexpected and possibly even warranted -- leaves us with a character that is less dimensional and less relatable and, consequently, less interesting.

Creepily watchable almost in spite of itself through at least the first two nights, the miniseries embodies a veritable symphony of implausibility.

Even the combined deadpan cynicism -- at its very best -- of Carol Burnett and Tracey Ullman can't overcome the extreme sweetness of this "Once Upon a Mattress."

Although more like "Felicity" than "The Paper Chase" in attitude and subject matter, early indications are that the characters in this eight-episode series have neither the depth nor texture of either of those shows.

There almost is nothing here that hasn't been seen before, including creaking doors, cobwebbed mirrors, ghostly visions and a lot of meaningful glances.

Quite the bloodletting experience, even gratuitously so.

Put simply, Spencer lacks the heft for the role.

It's an attractive premise but a pedestrian execution.

"Brothers & Sisters"... has all the traditional themes of unhappy marriage, unmet parental expectations, unexpected financial chicanery and (possibly) unfaithfulness. It deals with them convincingly, though not with any great depth or insight.

For now, it remains more like a group of shuffled skits than a cohesive series.

Maybe this show would be more compelling if the Donnellys were a little less black and a little more gray.

There's something ominous about running out of fresh ideas in the second or third episode.

It has moments that are semi-inspired, just not nearly enough of them in the first two installments.

Mostly silly, pretentious, soap opera-style TV with an escapist mentality and the subtlety of an avalanche.

There's much to admire about Mad Men, and much worth tuning in for. But so far, it's all soft sell.

The show isn't particularly funny.

The main reason to watch can only be Holly Hunter.... Although she's a prisoner of the material, her performance is so good that it can distract you from this otherwise simplistic take on a complex issue.

The whole story is over the top, but it's mitigated by the sense of humor it has about its own broad elements. The acting is serviceable enough and--to Rosenthal's credit in the pilot--surprisingly consistent. What the plotting lacks in cohesion and suspense, the production often compensates for in visual appeal.

The more K-ville captures this aura of gloom, the more depressing it is to watch.

The series, even after a second episode, is stuck in a rut. After awhile, the insane predicaments of these overprivileged characters are more pathetic than funny.

The best thing in the show's favor is its single-camera style and a cast that knows its way around a punchline, though these are few and far between. In general, stories are contrived and exaggerated, and they fail to deliver even a mild comedy payoff.

While the preening and the chewed scenery from the cast are at times glorious to behold, there is no substance to wrap our heads around, no one to really root for

Plaudits to Ambrose for her effort to bring some honesty to her scenes, but it isn't enough to keep the show from imploding.

This farmer may want a wife but, in the end, the only guarantee is that he gets a reality show.

Apart from its New Mexico setting and its witness protection angle, little stands out here. Stories are less than suspenseful and characters are mainly two-dimensional.

Even skillful performances by its largely unknown cast aren't able to hide the lack of character development and the sense that the people in this series are almost self-parodies.

This series turns out to be far less than the sum of its parts, with the human egos far surpassing the stupid pet tricks in terms of relevance and screen time. And that’s wholly unfortunate.

America's Toughest Jobs has been fully homogenized and networkized to appeal to a more mainstream crowd, meaning it has successfully neutered one of the few unscripted genres with genuine grit and originality and made it look, sound and feel like every other "Survivor" knockoff.

But aside from Garcia, Archer and Louis (who does a colorful turn as the chef), there's too much sizzle here and too little steak.

As it is, Opportunity looks to be just another blown opportunity--unless producers Ashton Kutcher, JD Roth and company listen to me, that is.

While the hour is not without its charm, it's just a tad too precious for its own good, so taken with its own lithe coolness that it rather destroys any chance it might have to connect with us on anything greater than a superficial level.

The "Saturday Night Live" alum and occasional film actor began life as a man of chat by giving his best impression of a deer caught in the headlights while at the same time exhibiting flashes of comic flair.

While the premise begs a broader comedic treatment, the series is a leisurely paced drama with light jokes that mostly play on its characters' convoluted rendering of the English language.

If one dispenses with the seemingly coaxed melodrama, the well-rehearsed family scenes and the endlessly repetitive bumpers, an occasional nugget of helpful information on tracing family roots is discovered.

The premise of an attractive group of friends living and loving in the Big Apple is not exactly a novel idea, but there's always room for a series that resonates with a distinctive new take, a unique perspective or memorable characters. Unfortunately, this isn't it.

For someone named Pepper, this character is awfully bland.

The medical drama is so pervasive on TV both past and present that any new one must fight to stand out, and though Hawthorne's nurse angle is fresh, the plots barely reach subpar "St. Elsewhere" territory.

There's not enough time for the strategizing, scheming and emotional breakdowns that make the three-times-per-week "Big Brother" a guilty pleasure.

For all its well-designed moves, TBL is made of some pretty chintzy material.

Bored prefers droll to funny. Almost implicit in its tone is the attitude that viewers should be satisfied merely hanging out with the literati of New York, flawed though they might be, and not hope for compelling stories and charismatic characters, as well.

Ultimately, despite an attempt to raw up the scene with topical war references, Mercy ends up being just another hospital soap opera that audiences have seen, and seen done better.

There are flashes of light--Rene (Luis Guzman), the ex-con Our Heroes go into debt with is a menacing delight with his own delusions of grandeur, and Cam's frenetic, audacious ambition blasts the plodding story line along in most unexpected ways. But Ben, sans direction or real ambition, is a black hole in every scene and fails in convincing the audience that he knows what he wants for dinner, much less out of life.

"100 Questions" is a throwback, one which should in fact be thrown back.

In the end, "Are We There Yet?" is a harmless little family comedy, and that's about the best that can be said. The traveling Kingston-Persons have come home, but it's not necessarily the best place of all.

Such a winning cast of characters and sharp dialogue deserved better than a midshow derailment, however.

Although Robbins delivers on his promise in one feel-good scene after another, there's little here to indicate that the joy and freedom will remain after the production crew packs up.

Here, the mix of schadenfreude and reductionism coming from the writers makes Mike & Molly cold and calculating, despite its likable leads and cast.

Abrams and company, including Kodjoe and Mbatha-Raw, who possess chemistry but lack sufficient charm and delivery, must find some way to jump-start this misfire before it fades into obscurity, or before Abrams shifts his focus to the forthcoming mystery production "Super 8," which hints at a more intriguing fusion of "Lost" and "Cloverfield."

Eventually, perhaps things will jell and Generation can evolve into the primetime soap it so badly needs to be. Until then, it's about as insufferable as wine-sniffing yuppies and carries an odor like day-old deli meat.

For all its gore, Dead Set has a frightening lack of suspense. Then again, except for Kelly (Jaime Winstone), a "Big Brother" producer with a dysfunctional love life, most of the characters are so lacking in humanity that the transition to zombie isn't much of a leap.

Not only do [Kyle Bornheimer and Christine Woods] try heroically to make something out of nothing, but they also have a realness you'd actually want to watch--something that is buried by the other two couples spouting unfunny dialogue and flailing desperately to find identity in their characters.

All the early signs were right--this is an exercise in verbal gymnastics and no matter how famous the two leads are, it's difficult to embrace their characters, because they have that air of stagey self-importance, as if the goal was to be viewed from seats in the distance, not welcomed into your living room.

It's hard to feel compassion for them because they knew the risks. If you don't worry what happens to your main character--the fictional Bill Henrickson or the real Kody Brown--there's an absolute absence of drama.

When all the storytelling is coming to a climax, there's something missing--the same connection that was absent between Mildred and Veda from the start.

Without depth to its storytelling, all that's left is the question of whether Poly's football team will return to form in 2010. But after sitting through the repetitive premiere, some viewers will be tempted to visit Google for a quicker answer.

The downside to Ringer is that unless you're weaned on The CW's fare, it really doesn't have a lot of weight, and Gellar seems stretched a bit thin playing dual roles.

The whole thing quickly becomes hokey and a grind. Blame goes consistently to the writing.

It's a new kind of plodding--so slow, you are almost begging her to stay retired so you don't have to witness her gifts in action again.

A lot of the success of Whitney may hinge on whether people find her likeable or not. But there are fundamental issues holding back the show as well--beyond the multi-camera fakeness of it all.

If you're looking for some sentimental lesson-learning, the wafer-light Hart of Dixie may fill an hour for you.

It's hard to tell whether Murphy and Falchuk are real fans of the horror genre or just set out to create something so creepy and freaky and off-the-charts weird that it would create massive buzz.

As bad as Last Man Standing is, it would be a trillion times worse without Allen's veteran presence and ability to sell comedy in that set-up/punch-line kind of way.

The point is, a bunch of good actors are stuck in a sitcom that has limited appeal.

The Finder is as agreeable as a contract on onion paper that says you, the viewer, will not question implausible moments or snicker when is limp and the acting staged.

When the series works it's when Long and Hornsby invest their characters with counter-intuitive hope and positivity.

[Fashion Star falls] in to the same X Factor trap by amping up a tried-and-true format at every conceivable turn until the final product has all the subtlety of a Victoria's Secret runway show.

Somewhere around the three-hour mark, all you want to do is have both families line up opposite each other, pull the trigger and fade to black.

Murphy and Adler opt for the caustic in a series that probably had its best chance of success playing it more subtle and more sentimental, tossing in the barbs judiciously.

In Fox's new series, The Mob Doctor, trying to reinvent the wheel has led to a truly flat idea.

There are few likable characters here, the centerpiece M&M meetings should be what sets the series apart but is actually bogging it down into nonsense.

Freakshow is the real disappointment. It has managed to do something truly extraordinary: making the strange and amazing simply boring.

Taxidermy would have made a great subject of a documentary special. But as a competition show? It's as lively as the animals displayed.

Much of the history is spoken, not seen, and though Campbell does the best he can with his role, the docudrama seems thin and disconnected--as if the scripted, acted parts are merely in service of Hanks’ narration.

The odds are better that viewers will see Red Widow as a formula series trying desperately not to be a formula series. In the process, it's not very exciting. Or compelling.

Spin City doesn't yet spin into a totally satisfying comic groove, instead going for the obvious and the expected when it comes to the ways and means of politics. [17 Sept 1996]

The premiere of Angel suggests this is a fairly grim and humorless series, though perhaps not entirely predictable. With no Buffy to offset the intensely glowering and eternally brooding Angel (David Boreanaz), the former love of her life, the spinoff becomes a sort of "Touched By a Vampire," a show in danger of taking itself far too seriously and the audience far too lightly. [4 Oct 1999]

Lochte is all over the place in the series, which tags along with him on his exploits (answering the title question with a simple "let's watch and see").

My Crazy Beautiful Life doesn't feel fresh but instead is more akin to a standard tour documentary of a band you used to like.

The premiere winds up misfiring more often than it connects with various jabs, hooks, sucker punches and haymakers, too often going in for outlandish spoof at the expense of cleverness and irony.

"Twins" is a surprisingly straightforward piece of WB-targeted lowbrow absurdity that's far afield from the sophisticated territory plowed by Kohan and Mutchnick in "Will & Grace."

There's nothing particularly appealing about any of the folks having the close encounters.

While this show isn't terrible, demonstrating spirit and energy if not belly laughs, it will need to get funnier very quickly or risk dying a quick, inglorious death.

There is a lot of "The Silence of the Lambs" in Fox's creepy new "Killer Instinct," but not enough to make it compelling rather than simply icky.