V is stuck in the past of a 25-year-old show. It needs to shed that skin.

From pariahs to parodies. What a quick ride. The party is almost over for Jersey Shore.

Primeval (which has already been renewed for a fifth season) doesn't ask you to think, just to enjoy the mayhem that follows when a rampaging behemoth is set loose anywhere in the United Kingdom. It's hard to find fault with a formula like that.

Friday Night Lights used high school football as a vehicle to explore plainly and authentically the way in which people live, struggle and thrive in small towns. It just might be the finest scripted series on prime time.

Her tips could be found in the nearest public library. And stretched to an hour, Jobmother seems downright inflationary.

Many of the scenes with the teens seem staged, especially tonight's climax. Still, the Bruces aren't anything like the delusional couples who populate Bravo's "Housewives" shows. This is a functioning family trying to survive a dysfunctional time.

There's something bizarrely addictive about The Hasselhoffs.

The three-week, six-hour miniseries introduces a colorful, international cast of characters who live and breathe to create one moment of perfection under the limelight.

On Veterans Day, Wartorn is a somber reminder of the price that many pay when they serve their country and a wake-up call to the rest of us about the debt we owe them.

With its relentless narration, Gold Rush: Alaska more often plays like anaudible.com download with stunning visuals of Sarah Palin's home state as a backdrop.

Sarah Palin's Alaska turns out to be a tepid travelogue of the former governor's home state's tourist attractions interspersed with homespun homilies and family downtime.

Now this show plays like a cross between any generic CBS crime procedural and the network's "Bones." Human Target needs a course correction.

TBS has concocted a show once considered to be unimaginable: A college comedy so badly written, acted and executed, so deficit in any jokes or diversions that even a stoner wouldn't be able to enjoy it.

The auction segments are fascinating as buyers become locked in bidding wars and props sell for obscene figures. But the series could ultimately hurt Maddelena's business. The means by which he authenticates certain items, at least as presented here, is not convincing.

Of the cast, Winger seems to be the weakest link, brittle and uncertain, but it's too soon in her arc to write her off. The series is like a mystery novel, but the crimes of the heart here are ones the patients unwittingly inflict upon themselves and the lengths they'll go to hide from the truth. Watching Byrne's sullen shrink match wits with Ryan's cool therapist is the best reason to book an appointment with In Treatment.

Wahlberg, a favorite here, needs to avoid David Caruso Syndrome. There's a bit too much posturing with the furrowed brow and hand-on-the-hip that has made a caricature of that "CSI: Miami" star. Moynahan is solid as the assistant district attorney, but her character's lefty politics seem at odds with her occupation and her family.....But Selleck as the bad guy in his own show? It almost makes you want to dial 911.

Unlike "The View," there were no topical references--the show could have been filmed five years ago for all its relevance--unless you count the moment Osbourne turned a vague discussion of divorce law reform into a rant against cyberbullying.

There's an undercurrent of desperation in this spinoff--the belief that a woman is only as good as her face and figure, and that there's always some pretty thing on her way up to take her place. These women know they are disposable. That's the ugly truth lining the sun-kissed streets of Beverly Hills.

Visually, Los Angeles works. One forgets how dark and claustrophobic the New York shows can be. The sets seem more open, and the decor reflects an electric mix of modern styles. But the crimes--ripped from the headlines, naturally--might as well be culled from the funny pages.

Ordinary is super at capturing a middle-class family suffering from self-imposed Kryptonite poisoning

Sister Wives practically twists and breaks its back assuring viewers how gosh-darn normal everything is. Still, there are some cracks in the crackpots.

The show displays all the sophistication you might expect from a social media that limits its statements to 140 characters. Here's a tweet from me: This show is a piece of (bleep).

My Generation is based on a Swedish series, "On God's Highway." Dramatic storytelling seems to have veered off the road and crashed into a tree.

The humor is crude and risque and often at the expense of Indian culture. I could have lived without the defecation jokes. To be fair, the writers don't give America a pass.

Better With You has the foundation to be an engaging comedy. Right now, it's difficult to commit to a long-term relationship

O'Connell glides through the show on his smile. Belushi isn't as bad as one might expect, which, granted, isn't much of a compliment. He reins in the comic buffoonery, and if the scripts get better, he might prove to be up to a dramatic role.

Maybe Abrams just ran out of energy drinks that week. This is a poor caper show that doesn't even deliver half the surprises of TNT's "Leverage."

Tierney and Morrow are both seasoned TV stars, but even they can't make The Whole Truth ring true.