Still sweet and sad, but often dour and slow, too.

We already know too much and paradoxically too little about the JFK assassination. A TV movie needed to tell us something we don't know. No dice here.

It's inert, lackluster and a trifle old-fashioned. Even the action scenes feel geriatric. It's also vaguely silly--a big reason the venerable good twin/evil twin gambit is better suited to comedy than drama.

Glimmers of hope force their way through the fog of noir cliche.

Bruckheimer assembly-line sausage stuffed with plenty of hooey and violence--but the leads are plenty appealing.

Forte does seem to be having a good, slovenly time, but after a while, the whole affair starts to feel a bit wanton and self-indulgent.

A not-bad spinoff that feels older than "The Vampire Diaries" and even more convoluted.

Oh, sure, they can pierce necks and drink blood: Big deal! Any ol' vampire can do that. With a limited repertoire of vampire moves, the Radcliffs shoulda moved to Bon Temps instead of the Gates to learn some new tricks.

In spots, it's been turned into an antic Saturday morning cartoon. A shame.

Most of the material flatlines even before it begins, while never rising to the level of the HBO series to which it pays homage.

After a rough start, Backstrom settles into an obvious, and comfortable, procedural rhythm.

After this overheated effort to make Charlie interesting, or at least different, she's basically just another Carrie Mathison without the pills.

This is a Danny McBride comedy--not exactly funny, but weirdly engaging in its own uncomfortable way. His fans should be pleased. Everyone else will be puzzled--or worse, repulsed.

The Following is a bummer of significant proportions. Not that it's bad--it's not--but it's bleak, sordid, blood-spattered and creepy (though not necessarily always "creepy" in a good way, like "The Walking Dead").

What's wrong here are some of the same elements that have made the 2013-14 network comedy crop one of the weakest in memory--not enough laughs, not enough of a show that feels like it has something interesting to say (and wants to say it).

There’s some funny stuff on the Netflix version (two episodes were made available). Truthfully, just not enough. In fact, W/Bob & David can be more tedious than inventive.

Flesh and Bone is so grim, so devoid of pleasure, so moldering that you're left to wonder why this significant collection of talent didn't actually have something fun or exciting to say about the New York ballet world.

Neither offensive nor particularly funny, it's merely another average, laugh-track-addled sitcom. The four leads are fine; they just need better material.

Roseanne's Nuts isn't awful. It just is. There's "nut" much happening.

About a Boy yearns to be good. Yet it relishes being bad. And Katims--guiding hand to "Parenthood" and "Friday Night Lights"--doesn't fess up to that dichotomy.

Honestly, it's a complete oddball with some charm and a few good lines.

There’s a fascinating sideshow here--Carey’s tough manager--otherwise this is a by-the-book celebrity reality series that just happens to star one of the world’s biggest celebrities.

Violent and dull.

A rare HBO misfire--but I do hope Amy finds peace.

It's pretty much impossible to describe The Beast without getting tangled in the underbrush of potboiler cliche....The good news, in fact, the wonderful news, is that Swayze really is good.

Good-hearted and gentle, Fisher struggles on the "funny" front.

Roughness still feels bland and unexceptional. Thorne remains what's best about this idea in the first place.

The show ambles along without getting viewers to particularly care about Alex or Pete. Without that requisite electricity, they're hollow, or just sad.

The third season was a two-headed monster. One was Sam and Ron; the other was Shore's typically moronic, casually vulgar, breezily amusing self. Guess which one was unwatchable.

de Cadenet's interesting. Her talk show is much less so.

Dutiful, respectful, evenhanded, and full of old network TV news clips that attest to the great drama of the moment, Confirmation can also be about as adventurous as a televised hearing on C-SPAN.

The target viewer wouldn't watch all this predictable--I mean, impulsive--bickering and button-pushing while thinking: I wonder why all the paintings and posters on the walls in the background are blurred out? And then think: Geez, why am I even wondering about that? The audience for Joan Knows Best? will be loving Joan's visits to three plastic surgeons Tuesday, not fretting.

Maybe the Thursday pilot's portentous whispers in candle-lighted spaces will seem less pretentious and more profound as Dominion moves past initial exposition from a cast trying not to sound like they're from all over the planet.

Sumptuously produced but glacially told, The Crown is the TV equivalent of a long drive through the English countryside. The scenery keeps changing, but remains the same.

If you thought the "Real Housewives" of New York City, Atlanta and Orange County were outrageous, you haven't seen anything yet.

Messy, discordant opener with potential.

This isn't only "Frasier," recast as a standard family sitcom. It's "Green Acres."

The River still has a quirkily eccentric charm. It's just so deliciously odd.

Hannibal isn't quite the sum of its admittedly evocative parts. The story is often strained, or like that poor synth operator, overextended; the shocks tend to be operatic--oversold as opposed to a deft sudden jolt to emotional solar plexus.

Families can watch this together nightly. The pace isn't exactly taxing. And it's summer.

Looking occupies some fuzzy ill-defined middle ground filled with uni-dimensional characters.

Legends simply feels too loose, too campy.

The Latina female leads are--to put this in a way that's both politically correct and blandly inoffensive--vivacious.... That trademark Cherry wit, written in acid, is evident here. too.... But the biggest problem here is the sprawl--lots of stories, lots of characters, lots of colors--and not one them going anywhere in a hurry.

Dramatically inert, Badlands is at least technically accomplished.

The first couple of episodes are on the tedious side. Bad guys still die, things still get blown up.

A genial, old-fashioned--nay, prehistoric--family sitcom on the wrong network.

Sure, there are some fun moments. Sure Brosnan looks mah-velous. He always does. But a little less plodding plot and a lot more action, please.

Too brittle and full of bile to cleanly hit the target.

This is an extremely tough balancing act or--back to the musical analogy--this is a show where the notes have to play exactly right. They don't here.

Frankel's repartee may make it seem as though she's missed her calling as a Borscht Belt comedian, but underneath it all she really has no sense of humor.

Finding original humor in this tired old horse of a format may not only be difficult, but close to impossible.

The fatal attraction story line is a long windup to a punchline you already know, and promos have revealed it as well. The mystery element is plopped down in the middle of that particular story like a lead MacGuffin.

There’s a thing called chemistry, which is little evident in the first few episodes here. Fischer and Hudson seem fine sparring, but not all that connected.

An easily digestible guide to pop culture that can make any water-cooler conversation more interesting (or interminable). But this television adaptation--if tonight's premiere is representative--does not work.

Creator Shonda Rhimes promised deeper, sharper medical stories this season to tether this show to the ground, and tonight Private Practice delivers those - even if the so-called "moral gray" area of each feels contrived.

While "Men" may have the nutritional equivalent of stick gum, there's some genuine charm here along with a surprisingly seasoned and talented cast.

Not bad but not subtle either, this is a broadly told story of overprivileged parents and their wounded offspring. You already know the sorry outcome.

Boo Boo is critic-proof. Call it vulgar, call it schlock, call it a cup of flatulence, call it whatever you like. But John Waters called it first: America loves its trash culture, smells and all.

Drescher is back in a bantamweight sitcom from ancient times — the 1990s.

Accidentally feels like a show that's nearly been focus-grouped into oblivion--with lines, beats and a cultural resonance that's so familiar you can almost see the baseball bat of predictability descending upon your head. So be it. Elfman's fine, as usual. This could be worse.

This hour is focused as much on standup craft as sitcom-building, and fails to put the comics' genre-expanding series concepts into the context of their times.

Murdered innocents, a gory sword fight in slow motion and dry, witty, dialogue. Yes, it's all here, but what's missing is ... excitement.

With "Satisfaction" an hour later proving even USA now knows what adult TV can really be, Rush doesn't deliver one.

As a viewer, you end up with a show that looks great, but ultimately trips up on the mechanics of basic storytelling.

Greetings From Tucson tries the high-wire act of both avoiding and exploiting Mexican-American stereotypes, and falls flat on its back in the desert sand next to the tire swing and the El Camino. [20 Sept 2002]

Lynch can be as goofy-delightful here as in the ensembles of “Party Down” and “Glee.” But she’s all over everything, all the time, in a show that just won’t let up.

The missing pieces, arguably the most important ones, are the groundbreaking and socially relevant ones. That proficient and fluid animation aside, Disenchantment breaks no ground, offers nothing socially current other than the fact that Bean's a strong, independent woman.

Unlikeable characters fill the foreground, while an unfocused music track fills the background.

Pulp hooey with a comic book vitality and earnestness that manages to keep it (usually) on track.

Problem here is that Beers is yoking his specialty with something that is not his forte--reality competition. The result often feels forced and frivolous.

The series has to update to 2021, or try to anyway. To that end, there are prominent Black characters here for pretty much the first time in series history — better late than never but about as awkward an attempt to redress its unbearable whiteness of being as you might imagine.

You must be content with a standard-issue mob turf war TV series, with thick overtones of "The Sopranos," as heavy and as gloppily applied as all that clay weighing down Farrell. This "Penguin" is a proximate real world, and not even a slightly heightened version of one, with no Batman and no fantasy world to escape to — or for it to escape to.

Swank--who arrives in the second episode--is the emotional core of Trust, also the only character with a functioning heart. In the early episodes, you never quite get to know her, and begin to wonder whether she’s worth the effort. But at least over those episodes, she is the reason to watch--the only one.

The Ranch isn’t hateable as much as just bone-weary. It’s a by-the-dots, or the numbers--whichever are easiest to connect--sitcom that proceeds according to formula.

TV fave Daly is more personally accessible than Janssen and Harrison Ford. And his show is beautifully produced. But we've seen it all before. CBS must figure this old-style genre-single- lead hero, chase drama, closed-end action-is primed for a comeback, though it's hard to imagine younger viewers sitting still for this Diagnosis Pursuit. [6 Oct 2000, p.B51]

Waco won’t be the first drama to reduce a tragedy to its simplest components, but this doesn’t offer much confidence that these are the right components or the only ones. This is Waco in black and white, absent any shades of gray--an inkblot test with just one interpretation.

Family is a trifle--part comic book, part kids' show--that is perfectly pleasant but without edge, bite or dramatic heft. With Chiklis aboard, it's like witnessing a concert pianist execute an elaborate version of "Chopsticks."

The outcome is an ersatz facsimile of the original “Trek” and a couple of spinoffs. Their heart and overall spirit are present, along with some decent special effects. The dumb jokes and ham-fisted setup lines just tend to diminish them.

BFF is not bad--classify this as another Young Urban New York-based sitcom--but it's not great, either, or certainly not smart enough, or different enough, or flat-out funny enough to deserve anything other than the bleak future that now appears preordained.

Love Boat strives for "Love American Style"-- and misses. [29 Sep 1977, p.47A]

The weirdness is welcome, the concept has merit, but the execution leaves a lot to be desired.

The New Normal needs to take a deep breath, get off the soapbox and get funny fast. The right elements--talented cast and showrunner--are already in place.

Cynical, randy, derivative and as wearily familiar as a cup of cheap joe, "Freddie" is also expertly cast, acted, written and directed.

Sure, it's summer and the viewing is easy--and Zoo is about as easy as it gets. There is some fun here, or potentially some fun.

Linney is a fine actress, but her material here doesn't match her talents.

Mirren will get an Emmy nod for this because she's Mirren. She is a great actress, and she's certainly good here. A pity she'll get that nod for so cramped a story.

"Drive" is less the sort of textured character study we've come to expect than an action-packed joy ride. That's not to say you won't wanna hop in. But it's hardly a journey you've gotta take.

It feels to me like CBS wanted a military heroism series, and the producers provided one, and here it is.

I think I comprise a third type--a wary Weeds fan who's happy it's back but hardly ecstatic.

Nice, also determinedly dull.

There's an almost overwhelming been-there-seen-that feel to the pilot, which doesn't really offer any suggestion of "well, you haven't seen this."

Some brief memorable performances, particularly Cusack as a tippling housewife. Otherwise, an inexplicable misfire.

Mostly boilerplate CBS procedural but at least the horses look great.

James fans will love this overstuffed commercial for NASCAR and its many sponsors.

The cast in fact is terrific. (It also includes Norbert Leo Butz, Peter Gerety and AnnaSophia Robb.) A cramped, airless setting is the critical flaw here. Nothing comes to life--words, drama or most of all, characters.

Coel's a great talent — no doubt about that — but this can be an aggravating, unfocused sprawl at times. The power and horror of Arabella's ordeal is the unintended casualty.

The makers of "Them: Covenant" ask their audience to endure scenes of horrific abuse that are unearned by their broader framework.

Well-crafted sitcom, but Goggins takes some getting used to.