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.

Confirmation could have used a lot less C-SPAN and a lot more theater.

"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.

It lacked, for the most part, the emotional punch and sheer vocal prowess of NBC's recent staging, but the production itself redefined what a live musical could be.

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.

Any evidence of the source material's wit or grit is MIA. We're left with a show that's as cheesy as it is ridiculously improbable.

[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.

The prospect of jumping from era to era to stop Savage holds promise, but there isn't enough interplay between the characters to add any dimension to the early episodes. If only they could go back in time two hours and make a different show.

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.

This is a conventional crime show draped in period trappings when it should be steeped in the era.

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.

They're all likeable enough, but the set-ups are straight out of a dog-eared playbook.

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.