To find a network drama that bears sustained comparison to ABC's Kingdom Hospital, you'd have to go all the way back to 1990, when the same network premiered David Lynch's "Twin Peaks." Alternately random and brilliant, the 15-hour, limited-run series "Kingdom Hospital" has a similarly indescribable vibe. Set in a huge Maine hospital, it plays like a cross of "M*A*S*H," "Six Feet Under" and "The Shining." King, his talented ensemble cast and his capable director, Craig R. Baxley, have created one of the creepiest locales in TV history. But they don't limit themselves to mere spookiness. They go wherever they please, and their brazen confidence demands that we follow along. [3 March 2004, p.39]

This is the most uncompromising and stylistically innovative approach to TV drama since "NYPD Blue" maybe since "Hill Street Blues" 20 years ago. [30 March 2000, p.57]

Son of the Beach is everything you'd expect from a TV comedy executive produced by Howard Stern - and more. It's unbelievably vulgar - and one of the best bits of dopey humor television has featured since "Police Squad!" [13 March 2000, p.15]

Odd as The Beat may seem on first glance, it's of a piece with the rest of Fontana's work, which aims to shake up TV storytelling by any means necessary. [21 March 2000, p.37]

The biggest rap against Hollywood dramatizations is that they treat history as a series of white-hot personality conflicts when it's really about slowly building waves of collective action. "From the Earth to the Moon" is a rare exception. There are recurring characters and motifs, but none that appear in every episode, and the writers have resisted inventing an audience surrogate to guide us through the maze. [5 Apr 1998]

American Gods is a bit too packed with these intriguing jaunts, and the narrative sometimes feels like it will run out of gas long before reaching its destination. (The first 8-episode season reportedly covers only the first third of the fantasy epic.) But that doesn't mean you won't enjoy the ride.

Atwood's spare narrative is haunting in the horrors it only hints at. The Hulu adaptation is 10 episodes (and judging from the gripping first three, hopefully there will be many more). The narrative is more fully fleshed out, and obviously more visceral, but it still leaves a lot to the imagination.

This is supposed to be a cat-and-mouse game, but it's more like a kitten with a ball of yarn.

The basic structure is compelling enough--viewers don't even know who the identity of the murder victim is through much of the series, and the layered performances keep us in flux over who we'd like to kill off, and who we wish would do the killing.

The Missing is a feast--albeit the most chilly, emotionally devastating feast ever--for armchair sleuths.

[Legion is] produced like a cerebral art house version of a superhero series, thrumming with precision and emotion where the genre usually calls for shock and awe, and assembled with an entrancing period aesthetic (it seems to be set in the early 1970s, but that could just be a side-effect of David's fragile mental state) and stunning, occasionally horrifying visual effects.

Newcomers to the franchise--there may be a quite a few, as 24: Legacy gets the prime spot right after the Super Bowl--may get sucked in, mostly thanks to Hawkins' charisma, although Miranda Otto is also very watchable as Rebecca Ingram, the tough CTU director who is leaving the agency to help her husband, played by Jimmy Smits, run for president.

Riverdale is not only coherent but often enthralling, an effectively moody and sometimes perverse melodrama that manages to revel in the high school tropes that Archie helped define decades ago while simultaneously subverting them.

The metaphorical gloom and doom of Taboo is likewise dense and relentless but so enveloping you can't help but be sucked in.

The first episode is not as edgy (or, quite frankly, as funny) as it thinks it is. Olson is a gifted physical actress but the woman-behaving-badly shtick starts off a bit toothless. The second episode is sharper.

A sumptuous, stately but never dull look inside the life of Queen Elizabeth (Claire Foy).

Like the park, Westworld operates on many levels, and the ones that take place below the park are less successful than the vibrant but violent world the programmers have built above. ... The saving grace is the interplay between Ford's sensitive second-in-command Bernard Lowe (Jeffrey Wright), obsessed with tweaking the code to imbue the hosts with ever more humanity, and the hosts, particularly Wood's Dolores, who can shift from sunny self-denial to clinical self analysis at a word from Lowe.

The procedural element is smartly done, the stakes realistically high, and Atwell's chemistry with Cahill's D.A. compelling.

It's an infectious, engaging hour that sets up the rules of this universe efficiently and effectively (i.e., they can't double back to anyplace they might meet themselves), and the cast gels quickly.

The expensive-looking pilot episode, with its frequent use of unusual camera angles to suggest a world gone askew, effectively establishes the sinister vibe, with some genuine scares and plenty of gore. Daniels is particularly magnetic as the older, put-out-to-pasture priest haunted in more ways than one.

The show feels realistic in the locker room, on the field and in the media circus that surrounds her. (The synergy with real-life Fox Sports commentators and on-screen graphics provides more verisimilitude.)

This Is Us (from "Crazy, Stupid, Love" screenwriter Dan Fogelman) methodically weaves four seemingly disparate stories into a believable and emotional whole through tiny telling details, relatable moments, and conversations and confrontations that are funny, tender or painful, or all three at once.

This is the best network comedy of the season (yes, that's a caveat), with its deceptively easy balance of heart and snark.

Designated Survivor has got a dynamite premise, but the premiere episode flounders when it leaves the White House for the ruins of the Capitol, where FBI agent Hannah Wells (Maggie Q) is spearheading the investigation.

The first episode starts out whimsical and veers into freakish by the end, but I'm already invested in seeing where it goes from there.

Better Things is one of the messiest portrayals of motherhood on television today--which pretty much makes it the most real.

How Naz's religion (he's the American-born son of Pakistani immigrants) becomes a factor in the case is a natural part of the narrative but never feels like a polemic--The Night Of is too subtle for that. Its brilliance is in the way, thanks to the moody, unrushed direction and pointed, spare dialogue, everything feels freighted with meaning.

Outcast is incredibly visceral, both in its scenes of demonic possession and in the punch-happy tactics of the titular amateur exorcist. But it's also a tense, meditative psychological drama about trauma, redemption and belief, with nuanced performances throughout and a grim but arresting visual style that is not without flashes of humor.

"Breaking Bad" fans will thrill to the second coming of Jesse Pinkman, and there are Job-like similarities in Paul's tormented Eddie. But Dancy, taut as an ascetic and grimly magnetic, is the one to watch as Cal.

As someone who has grown exhausted by frenetic and increasingly absurd plotting of "Scandal" and "How To Get Away With Murder," I suspect "The Catch" will prove at least as durable simply because the stakes aren't as high here, and it doesn't take itself as seriously.

Franco dials down his signature smarm, and as Sadie Dunhill, the vibrant small-town librarian whom Epping courts in the small Texas town in which he waits outs Oswald, Sarah Gadon is a real find. Their stirring romance carries with it the same whiff of doom as Epping's visits to Dealey Plaza, and gives what could be merely an interesting and handsomely-made take on the conspiracy thriller genre more texture and depth, resonating across the ages.

The show's ungimmicky and sociological fly-on-the-wall approach — you'd never guess Ryan Murphy of the outrageous "Glee" and "American Horror Story" is the man behind the curtain — is particularly effective, perhaps because the events were so outrageous on their own.

These extended sojourns on the mountain, though beautifully shot, are self-serious to the point of spoof. That said, the performances--a supremely shaggy David Morse as Big Foster, a mercurial leader of the clan, Joe Anderson as Asa, who returned to the fold after a decade in the outside world, and Thomas M. Wright as troubled deputy Wade Houghton Jr., with a mysterious link to the Farrells--are strong throughout. And there's much in the material that resonates.

[Mad Dogs] is perfect escapist fare--by turns funny, frank, and frightening, with terrific, color-saturated cinematography and a central foursome whose long history feels immediately palpable.

Muscular writing and powerful performances.... You can get sucked in by the spycraft, but this is also a parable about queerness, and a fascinating character piece for Whishaw.

Billions is a mostly engrossing but occasionally tiresome tale of financial and legal brinkmanship between Bobby "Axe" Axelrod (Damian Lewis), a blue collar kid turned hedge fund manager with a chip the size of the Bronx on his shoulder, and Chuck Rhoades (Paul Giamatti), an ambitious (and silver-spooned) U.S. Attorney known his no-mercy prosecution of financial crimes.

Yes, this is "The Shield," with more gloss and less shock, and the story starts to strain as Harlee's FBI handler Warren Kole (Robert Stahl) shows an unhealthy interest in his undercover agent and the series worryingly starts to veer into "Enough"/"The Boy Next Door" territory. But the increasingly fraught dance between Harlee and Wozniak is absorbing and even occasionally nail-biting, and certainly reason enough to give Shades a shot.

This is uncomfortable television about uncomfortable topics. And we could use more of it.... This way of constantly upending the viewers' own preconceptions saves the show when it seems a bit too preachy and on-the-nose. Television too often gets teenagers wrong--too perfect, too whiny, or too bratty--but the young actors here offer nuanced portrayals.

This is not the candy-coated girl power of CBS's freshman series "Supergirl," which is doing something very different (and doing it very effectively). Jessica Jones is more psychologically complex, acknowledging how painful it can be to flee, to be free--even when you have an iron fist.

Into The Badlands thrills in its nimble genre fusion a la "Kill Bill" and "Firefly" (though, it must be said, without the humor). Even more striking is its impressionistic world-building, skillfully painting a feudal society a few centuries beyond our own, outfitted with Studebakers and Saarinen chairs and dressed in bowler hats and bustles.

Only the first episode was available for review, but the writing and direction is assured enough that easy to see where this show headed: an uplifting thrill ride that isn't a heavy lift like so many dark superhero dramas.

The Leftovers shifts locations, expands its cast of characters, delivers new soul-shaking twists and drills more deeply into its theme of spiritual vertigo. This season, it's less about loss itself than how to fill the chasm. It's breathtaking.

It's effective at quickly making us care for these docs and particularly at orchestrating the cases of the week to an emotional (and emotionally manipulative) crescendo.

Yes, this is "Raising Hope" for the carpaccio crowd, but like that gone-but-not-forgetten Fox sitcom set in the no-frills aisle, the potential for schmaltziness is more than balanced by the show's oddball sensibilities.

Dean's goofy legal maneuverings--we're talking one step up from Mr. Brady's whiplash-busting briefcase toss--may strain the premise eventually, but after last season's wretched record for comedies, a sitcom that consistently amuses is worthy of acquittal.

Pacing is a problem for most pilots--so many characters to introduce, meaningful stakes to establish--but Quantico, from "Gossip Girl" producer Joshua Safran, does this effortlessly, with at least one deadly effective twist you won't see coming. Just don't come looking for subtlety.

The Player has the feel of one of those high-octane action thrillers that Hollywood pumps out--you get caught up in the moment, but the intricacies of the plot dissolve the second you step out of the theater.

Despite that all-too-familiar set-up, Heroes Reborn gets off to a promising start, with some fresh, sympathetic characters and a gentle introduction baited with a little mythology from the original to keep those fans on the hook.

The dysfunctional relationship between sensible Kermit and the perennial diva Miss Piggy drives the show, and there is plenty of inside Hollywood humor, but its most delightful subplot is with Fozzie Bear, who is experimenting with inter-species dating.

While these standalone plots could descend into sketches, they don't--the writing is sharp and relatable, and the cast, particularly Colin Hanks and Zoe Lister Jones as new parents, bring their standard-fare roles to life.

Public Morals is engaging enough, with a jazzy pace, assured direction and a number of fine performances.

All this should seem precious and dumb, but it doesn't, thanks to the cast's deadpan intelligence and some sharp, self-aware writing (the characters' names often refer to characters in fiction by J.D. Salinger ). Best of all, Travis fails to wrap everything up in a neat, happy way; the second episode, which is much better than the first, essentially starts all over again, picking up on the time-travel mayhem Travis wreaked a week earlier. [27 Sept 2002, p.59]

The storytelling itself is agile, even with frequent digressions into the finer points of sociophysical architecture and the pitfalls of "nebulous public areas."

7 Days in Hell is flush with over-the-top raunch and absurdist asides, but there's a shaggy charm about this production.

As with many a Patterson thriller, the breathless pace and spine-tingling what-ifs make it easy to get caught up despite your well-founded reservations.

Another Period also skewers gender politics (and classism and the cult of celebrity), but the jokes are not particularly charged, aiming for--and granted, usually reaching--bawdiness, not brilliance.

Johnson surprises with hints of vulnerability behind that mega-watt smile. The show is also very funny.

There's a lot of backstory, and there's a lot of plot that makes the first couple of episodes a bit difficult to ease into, but at the end of the second episode, Pizzolato's penchant for abrupt violence with a side of freakiness will leave you with panting for more.

Beals does hard-edged well, her bluntness an effective buffer against the potential treacle of the weekly cases.

It's not everyone's cup of oolong, but it is an idiosyncratic tale bracingly told, generously whimsical but embellished with malevolence.

Delightful. [8 Nov 2001, p.45]

What's there is fascinating. More than perhaps anyone writing for TV, Carter understands the tactical value of withholding information; he gives us just enough to pique our interest and then pulls back, promising to deliver more when the time is right. The first installment of Harsh Realm promises plenty. [8 Oct 1999, p.71]

A fascinating, globe-trotting epic that still manages to feel very intimate.

The central mystery still reaches to the Highest Levels of American Government, but it's a more intimate story, with fine performances by the three young children who start hearing voices, and more worryingly, taking direction from an unseen force.

Hart is a delight as Sabrina. She's warm, charming, always plays Sabrina as a vulnerable teen first, and a superpowerful witch second. The writing is very squarely aimed at younger viewers, but an occasional joke slips in just for the grown-ups. [27 Sept 1996, p.67]

Thanks to Queen Latifah, we know exactly who Bessie Smith is; the movie itself could have spent more time exploring how she got to be that way.

This is a smart, simmering human-scale crime drama that transcends the superhero genre.

While Sinatra die-hards may find all this too familiar, there are still intriguing revelations throughout.

Younger, with its fizzy sensibility and sexual frankness, is a not-so-veiled attempt to lure younger audiences to the network, but there's a caginess to the humor, poking fun at both the younger generation, whose self-worth seems irrevocably tied to the strength of their Instagram following, and the pop cultural obliviousness of Liza's generation.

Even if you are familiar with the contours of the controversy over Scientology, Gibney's documentary, which won raves at Sundance in January and airs Sunday at 8 p.m. on HBO, is worth watching, particularly for the personal stories of former members.

Mendelsohn is superb as Danny, who shifts between vulnerability and venality with a swiftness that will leave you breathless. And there is an authenticity to the interplay between these adult siblings, freighted with unspoken accusations, long-held grudges, bitter rivalries and yes, even love, hinted at in flashbacks and fleshed out in a shocking flash-forward.

A cheeky mash-up of police procedural, screwball comedy, and horror parody with lots of heart. And, yes, lots of brains.

It's not a talky show; there's as much to be gleaned here in what is not said as what is. The moodiness of the production also goes a long way in helping us suspend our disbelief.

It's funnier than most of what's on television these days, but it never coalesces into something spectacular.

A penetrating, demanding examination of race, faith, the pitfalls of self-righteousness and limits of parental love.

The cases-of-the-week here are not groundbreaking but some are a bit wacky (death by maple syrup), and Battle Creek promises at least one grand mystery--if Duhamel's FBI agent is such an ace, what did he do to rate a posting in beleaguered Battle Creek? Agnew is chomping at the bit to find out, and so are we.

Even though the show moves confidently and hilariously in a new direction in the second episode, at the same time it feels like the first half of a very smart, sharply edited feature film, not a sitcom with weekly obligations.

How will Better Call Saul play for those unfamiliar with "Breaking Bad"? It still works, provided they're content with Gilligan's trademark loopiness and the show's leisurely (but confident) pace.

The set-ups are disparate enough [from "The Americans"], and Allegiance's twisty allegiances, are promising enough not to dismiss the show out of hand.

Watered-down or not, the immigrant/culture clash storylines are the freshest things about Fresh Off the Boat, which is a pastiche of other ABC sitcoms (thankfully, the good ones).

Fortitude's allure is its off-puttingness; those making a home there must indeed be tenacious, and with Fortitude, the same tenacity is required of its viewers.

On Best New Restaurant, [Tom Colicchio] is less guarded and more engaged with the chefs and restaurateurs, learning how their experience, management style and personalities interplay in the kitchen and in dining room. A delightful surprise of the premiere are those seemingly genuine, not pumped-up-for-the cameras personalities.

It's different enough from the original that you may be better off looking at it fresh, as a promising and more straightforward (okay, relatively straightforward) sci-fi adventure series with the requisite shadow conspiracy and, for those in the past, a looming Armageddon.

The four lead characters don't come off as deliberately, purposefully awful. In fact, they're so likable that their self-sabotaging almost adds to their charms. You're rooting for everyone, even when they're at cross-purposes.

What makes a marriage work, and what sacrifices are worth its maintenance and upkeep, are plumbed here with surprising dexterity.

Ryan, a Welsh actor little known on these shores, is the best thing about the pilot. Second best are some genuinely creepy special effects and scares, but the plot itself is a muddle.

This is definitely promise ring material.

The premiere episode is riveting--the best pilot I've seen this fall. (That admittedly is not saying much.)

The CW has done an impressive job building a snappy show out of one of the goofier heroes of the DC universe.

Both Feldman and Milioti are appealing, but the show doesn't feel particularly fresh, and there's probably one gimmick too many.

The law students are an assortment of not yet very distinctive ambitious types, with the exception being audience surrogate Wes Gibbons (Alfred Enoch)

The jokes are tight, and Anderson, whipsawing between smooth playa and high-pitched dismay, is a very likeable lead. There is is a feel-good resolution, although not quite as sappy (and sappily effective) as those on "Modern Family."

The city--neon-washed, Chanderlesque, somewhat anachronistic--is itself also a character, and it turns what could be "Law & Order: Gotham" into something infinitely more layered and watchable.

Solid but a bit staid.

Gruffudd's characterization is a bit uneven; sometimes he's gruff and aloof and still pining over the loss of his World War II-era love, yet he's able to turn on the charm when he wants to.

The show is soapy for sure, but only at the end of the premiere does it descend into the borderline sappiness that could have been its calling card. It helps that the entire cast has charisma to spare--even the kid in the coma.

It's pretty grim stuff — but quite engrossing and worth your time.

While it's great that series like these can find a home on pay cable, it's a shame they feel the need to live up to the adult reputation most cable series have. "Soul Food" the series continues the unfortunate R-rated tradition of "Soul Food" the movie. [26 Jun 2000]