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.

The superhero cheesiness that is often endearing on The Flash and Supergirl goes into overdrive here, and while some of the action is impressive, it’s in service of such silly, borderline nonsensical storytelling that even hardcore geeks might find it a bit much.

These cops are not even particularly good at corruption, with Harlee and her colleagues frequently making up clumsy lies that instantly fall apart, in order to cover their tracks from previous, flimsy fabrications. The subplots about the other detectives in the unit (aside from Harlee and Woz) are especially thin, and anything about the characters’ personal lives is a tedious waste of time.

Unlike Amazon’s Transparent, which deals compassionately with a late-in-life revelation about sexuality, Grace and Frankie is mostly content to recycle old jokes in a new context.

The most successful shows of the current true-crime boom do more than just lay out the facts, but there isn’t much indication that True Crime will be more than a competently produced eight-part Law & Order episode.

Without the nuanced characters and slow-building suspense of The Americans, Allegiance is just a preposterous thriller. That puts it right at home on NBC, but still far behind its obvious inspiration.

The plot may or may not come together in the end, but the execution, with unimpressive acting and bland dialogue, is unlikely to improve. Brand name aside, Scream is a generic thriller with more pretty faces than creative ideas.

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

It’s an entertaining genre series with some fun performances, but it doesn’t make the same lasting impression as the works that inspired it.

[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.

The deliberately rudimentary animation mixes poorly with the more sophisticated live action, so that any character interacting with Zorn is very obviously an actor talking to an empty space. That’s also part of the joke, but like all of the humor in the show, it gets old before it even comes around the second time.

Crawford and Wayans are likable enough, but they aren’t Riggs and Murtaugh; they’re just the stars of TV’s latest variation on the tired buddy-cop formula.

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.

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.

The political machinations, led by True Blood’s Stephen Moyer as a devious chamberlain, are more interesting, especially when they delve into the complex dynamic between the English ruling class and the Welsh peasants. But Sutter seems more interested in severed limbs and mysterious pronouncements (he also gives himself the role of Annora’s disfigured, hooded companion, prone to delivering cryptic dialogue), at least so far.

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.

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

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.

Mostly it’s business as usual, which, for a show that apparently ran out of good ideas years ago, is not exactly promising.

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.

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.

It’s a forgettable time-filler that doesn’t aspire to anything more.

Minority Report is a straightforward cop show, with a familiar dynamic between the eccentric genius and the by-the-book detective. It’s gone from counterculture literature to generic network TV.

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.

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).

Seeing Jack go through the old motions in 2014 revival season Live Another Day had a certain nostalgic appeal, but without him Legacy is mostly just a pointless retread.

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.

Instead of sounding passionate and honest, the characters on Roadies sound like they’re reading promotional copy for the artists who appear as guest stars.

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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

With jokes about strippers, quickie weddings and niche conventions, the show certainly doesn’t have a sophisticated or original take on Vegas. Its take on air travel is slightly fresher, but for the most part it occupies the same sitcom level as the budget airline for which its characters work.

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

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).

The new MacGyver lacks [USA's "Burn Notice's"] creativity and wit. It’s clumsy and forgettable, and it’ll probably end up lasting seven seasons without anybody really noticing.

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

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.

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.

At best, Inhumans resembles a mediocre ’90s syndicated genre series, and blowing it up to IMAX size just puts a bigger spotlight on the flaws.