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.

The fantasy sequences featuring Tig’s late mother can be a bit cheesy, but they represent a depth of feeling that Better Things is still reaching for. Both shows follow Louie’s example well, even if they don’t have as unique an artistic vision just yet.

The sometimes clichéd showbiz material isn’t as effective as the family dynamics.

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.

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 show frequently loses sight of the murder mystery, introducing alternate suspects who then disappear for multiple episodes. Khan himself is a bit of a cipher, which might be necessary in order to keep the audience guessing as to his guilt, but makes him less interesting to watch as the series progresses. Stone, however, is fascinating, even if the show sometimes spends too much time on overly symbolic details of his life.

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.

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 Kings deserve credit for taking a risk and not just putting out another legal drama, but if anything BrainDead isn’t weird enough. By hedging its bets, it ends up in an awkward middle ground between straightforward drama and something more original.

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

Writer David Farr and director Susanne Bier make the undercover work and the spy-agency infighting equally riveting, sustaining the suspense all the way to the inevitable (if slightly disappointing) end.

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 first episode sets up a storyline with limited long-term potential, but it’s entertaining and stylish enough to be worth following to see where it leads.

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

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.

Although there are moments of suspense when Jake gets close to major historical events, nothing (including the obligatory twist ending) is quite enough to shake the feeling that the series is just a really, really long Twilight Zone episode.

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).

Duchovny and Anderson slip easily into their old roles. But character chemistry and nostalgia are not enough to carry a new season, even (or especially) such a short one.

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.

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

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

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.

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.

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.

The tone is more restrained than outrageous, but Burr and Price don’t have a strong enough perspective to compensate for the mediocre humor. Their average family is a little too average.

The Expanse manages to take familiar sci-fi elements and synthesize them into something that looks and feels distinctive.

Even in its special effects, Childhood’s End looks chintzy and unimaginative.