It’s more interested in exploring, often inelegantly, issues of race and class, big ideas that get steamrolled under Murphy’s usual bombastic production style (his main contribution as a director is a lot of distractingly swooping camera moves).

Flaked offers up weak jokes and even weaker drama, as later episodes pile on contrived, overwrought plot twists.

When it premiered in 1998, Will & Grace was groundbreaking for its matter-of-fact depiction of the friendship between a gay man and a straight woman, even if its sitcom rhythms were already somewhat played out. Those jokes and storylines have only gotten weaker with age, and what was once a trailblazer is now left far behind.

Any meaningful resonance with issues of financial inequality and government collusion loses out to bitchy backstabbing and awkward celebrity cameos.

It’s a worldwide story that manages to look and feel completely mundane, with boring visuals and inconsistent performances.

The result is tiresome and forgettable, which makes it perfect filler for CBS’ Thursday-night lineup of popular but moronic sitcoms.

Hand of God’s bleakness doesn’t serve any greater purpose, and all the bluster says nothing about the nature of faith or revenge. Like its main character, the show ostentatiously wallows in sin and then tries to pass it off as genuine redemption.

Happy! has a cartoonish sensibility more suited to drawings than live action. The more it strains to be edgy and shocking, the more laughable it becomes.

Chip’s sad life is neither funny nor moving; it’s just a parade of discomfort, for both the characters and the audience.

Rush Hour isn’t particularly funny, and there’s nothing exciting about its familiar crime-drama structure. Without unique star power to carry it, it’s just another dull procedural on a network already filled with them.

Walter’s colleagues are just as depraved as he is, but their issues feel forced, more about crass, envelope-pushing jokes than character development. Stewart dives into his role with admirable gusto, but the show around him isn’t worthy of his talents.

By the end of the fourth episode, the plot starts to show slight signs of life, but there’s nothing to indicate that the show will capture the energy and creativity of the source material that should set it apart.

It’s not a particularly convincing storyline, nor does it offer much insight into Kelly as a person outside of this limited time period. Kidman’s aloof demeanor has a regal quality, but she fails to capture Kelly’s humanity (Dahan’s reliance on extreme close-ups is poor compensation).

Corden is inoffensive and upbeat, so it’s hard to hate him, but it’s hard to imagine him building a dedicated following, either. Unlike Ferguson, who made his little corner of late night into something unique, Corden is just marking time until viewers fall asleep.

As a music-industry story, Sex & Drugs is confused and outdated, with irritating, one-dimensional characters and self-consciously edgy humor. Like its protagonist, it’s mostly a sad relic straining to appear hip.

Since it’s set up to promote Major League teams and Ferrell’s charity efforts, the show can’t take any serious satirical jabs, so instead Ferrell makes a few blandly humorous comments, and the rest of the running time is filled with some slick game-play footage and lots of high fives.

Moonbeam City certainly nails the aesthetics of cheapo ’80s cartoons and the cadence of bad cop dramas, but its jokes are weak and repetitive, coasting on their delivery by a voice cast full of celebrities.

While the heavily stylized sex and violence can look beautiful, it’s often just as grim and ponderous as the dialogue and pacing. Only late in the fourth episode does the story begin to coalesce, but by that point it’s likely that anyone who wasn’t a fan to begin with will have long since tuned out.

[The Last Tycoon is] full of awkward, hokey dialogue and clumsy contrivances. Even the production values are mediocre; the occasional clips meant to replicate ’30s-era movies are especially phony and unconvincing. Fitzgerald based Monroe on real-life studio executive Irving Thalberg, but the show has Thalberg appear as a separate character, and the consistently ineffective mix of real and fictional characters highlights how poorly the series captures such a fascinating world.

As it is, Coogan and the rest of the accomplished cast (which also includes Kathryn Hahn and Bradley Whitford) can’t overcome the smug, overwritten material from creator Shalom Auslander.

The characters themselves are mostly one-dimensional, and the performances range from stiff to dull. The only exception is Marton Csokas, whose hammy turn as the evil, Southern-accented baron who employs Sonny is a highlight.

Overall Danger is a bit more fun than A Deadly Adoption, but it’s not nearly the subversive deconstruction that Lifetime probably hoped for when they hired Franco in the first place.

The producers surround [Katherine Heigl] with a strong supporting cast as her fellow lawyers, including Elliott Gould, Psych’s Dulé Hill and Orange Is the New Black’s Laverne Cox. But the cases are dull and formulaic, watering down hot-button issues to fit in the show’s neat, simplistic framework.

Beneath its loud insistence on its own urgency, Blindspot is a complete blank.

Bob Odenkirk and David Cross’ easy chemistry is still there, but the sketches often feel in style and occasionally in substance so outdated as to be historical curiosities.

Star Francois Arnaud, who plays psychic bad boy Manfred (everyone on the show has a silly name), is bland and affectless, and even a supporting cast that also includes an angel, a witch and some sort of international assassin can’t liven up the hodge-podge of elements from better supernatural dramas (including True Blood).

The show’s corporate intrigue is tedious and boring, and Danny’s business rivals are less villainous than greedy and sleazy.

The dialogue is stilted, the performances are awkward and most scenes go on twice as long as they should, as if that was the only way Allen could fill enough time for six episodes.

Parker and Church are both solid actors, but there’s never any sense that Frances and Robert ever had any love or passion for each other, even at some point in the past. Every time they reminisce about their former life together, it rings false.

It’s hard to root for the characters to form a makeshift family when all of them are such terrible people, but their terribleness is compromised by the need to make them semi-likable. It’s the worst of both worlds.

[The Defenders] is a plodding, clumsy and unlikable dud. It takes too much time ramping up, wastes its resources on unnecessary characters and subplots and lacks the visual appeal of Marvel’s previous Netflix outings.

The show’s version of Vegas is all sin and no city, with basic, glaring geography errors (a character runs through the distinctive sights of Fremont Street and in the next scene refers to it as the Strip). Its narrative and dramatic errors are even less forgivable.

Zoo could have been silly, over-the-top fun, but instead it’s plodding and monotonous.

Even their [the likable cast's] enthusiasm can't give life to the stale workplace humor and the half-hearted comic-book references.

Vice Principals doesn’t offer much of a twist on the familiar high-school setting, or even on the idea that teachers and administrators are despicable. It’s just a slight variation on McBride’s grating, played-out persona.

“The Commuter” benefits from having Timothy Spall as its bedrock; his performance as railway employee Ed Jacobson, a man with a chance to undo some of his life choices, is classic Twilight Zone stuff. ... It’s downhill from there.

The problem with Will is not necessarily that it fictionalizes Shakespeare’s life, but that it does so in such a dull, haphazard way, with little connection to what makes Shakespeare’s work endure or what makes his time period fascinating.

It’s a slow, monotonous story without a clear antagonist, and Frank is a grim, one-note character who works better as a supporting player than a lead. Amber Rose Revah brings some liveliness as a potentially sympathetic Homeland Security agent, but she barely interacts with Frank in the first six episodes.

Bryan’s missions have little to do with his passion for rescuing helpless young women. Change the main character’s name and this could have been any forgettable network action series, with nothing distinctive in its concept or execution.

The writing and direction fail the talented actors (including high-profile guest stars like Kate McKinnon and Seth Rogen), trapping them in annoyingly contrived storylines and unfunny set pieces.

One Big Happy is a generic, low-rent sitcom with only one thing setting it apart--and that one thing, thankfully, is no longer all that remarkable.

With its quests broken up into bite-sized pieces and its carefully crafted band of adventurers, Shannara is like watching someone else play a prepackaged Dungeons & Dragons campaign, only not as much fun.

Dr. Ken lacks any of the warmth, subtlety or cleverness of network sibling Fresh Off the Boat, instead relying on listless sitcom clichés and broad, obvious jokes (accompanied by loud, unwarranted audience laughter). It’s completely tone-deaf when it comes to depicting modern youth culture, and it wastes talented supporting players.

Fuller House is like the childhood friend who never grew up, who still lives at home, still hangs out at places frequented by teenagers, still makes the same dated pop-culture references. Visiting that person usually isn’t fun; it’s just sad.

The jokes that do take on topical issues rely on cheap stereotypes (about both Mexicans and working-class whites) rather than anything insightful. The character design makes everyone look ugly and vapid, which at least matches the dialogue that comes out of their mouths.