For such a vast and important story, Torchwood: Miracle Day feels strangely confined and artificial. Here's hoping for more by Episode 4.

As twisted, and twistedly funny, as ever.

Still absorbing. Still painful.

Over these 52 minutes, she hits 50 states, so of necessity the pace is brisk and to the point. You don't really get to know anybody, but a sea of faces from the Mideast to the Far East tell her of their hopes and dreams in short, sharp sound bites.

My heart tells me that any show that revolves around an honest-to-goodness native of Commack deserves an A+. My head tells me this one deserves a C.

All those greens and blues--and I'm just talking about the trousers and jackets--make you almost forget how well-written and acted this show is; even the medical jargon seems (ummm) un-jargony and informative. The mini dramas are mostly, however, just a light summer breeze, as befitting unpretentious Pains.

Sure, it all looks and sounds achingly familiar and blandly dumb, and maybe some of it is. But check the brain at the door. You could do much worse.

It feels fresh and amusing. "True Blood" did a similar fast-forward, and both have benefited.

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

Fair warning, dear reader: Wilfred is intensely vulgar, and only guys around the age of 28 whose ears, and sensibilities, are covered with scar tissue will find nothing offensive. Otherwise, it's very funny.

Still funny and still not for everyone. Louie remains very much a taste that you either acquire--or don't.

These stylish suits aren't empty, by any means. But we'll have to see if USA is truly willing to let its heroes' souls get emotionally naked.

Placid and often incomprehensibly bland, Combat Hospital still has flashes of intelligence. Definitely worth a second look.

Skies needs more horror. Less talk. More dramatic tension. Less (ummm) talk. More crazy, wild shootouts with the despicable aliens, who don't seem particularly bright, by the way. Less (all together now) talk.

Tatum seems genuine and almost desperate to forget the past; Ryan affects the pose that he couldn't care less. Over this is draped a weird "only-in-Hollywood" vibe--and a particularly sad one, too.

Based on the 22 irredeemably painful minutes TV Land offered for review, this show is clunky, sodden, cliched, drab, bland and terribly (terribly) weary.

Super set-up seems to punch every teen ticket there is, with plenty to admit adults, too. Future execution will be key--in more ways than nine.

Competent soap, and the new season is frothier than ever.

Gleeks will engage; hard to imagine who else will.

This intelligent, sensitive portrait effectively explores a lost childhood and remarkable mind. It's engrossing to a point, then tiresome.

A winner and best of all, fun.

Sometimes, you're not looking for great TV. Sometimes, you're looking for par-tay! And dudes paid "to mess with the zombie culture," while also acing the case, surely fits the bill.

It's an odd concept, but it works pretty well.

With two shopping trips in each half-hour, TLC's latest hit is so fast-paced--and such giddy consumerism--that it's fairly irresistible. Also educational.

As real as real gets, invaluably adding human understanding to a hot-button topic.

Despite Salomon's efforts at visually stylish filmmaking, Justice for Natalee Holloway never puts any real meat on the bones of the much-hyped saga.

While you're left to wonder why these four stars need a reality show, or why the contestants never truly made it in the first place, "The Voice" should remain a solid performer for NBC--which it so very badly needs.

It was last year, and remains so this year--one of TV's very best.

Not a dull or wasted moment, and Lane may have just turned in the one of the best performances of her career.

A paint-by-the-numbers biopic with the dramatic vitality of a tree stump.

I mostly loved Game of Thrones, but occasionally grew a little weary of it as well. (And just to answer the obvious question, this is not a small-screen "Lord of the Rings.")

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

There's desperation here, and if Happy Endings would slow down long enough to let itself breathe, it might find a footing.

Feels like a rebuilding year here. Veterans trying to hold their spots, rookies working to make the team. Whether a winning lineup coalesces remains to be seen.

Another Discovery/BBC beauty, but short on answering obvious questions.

This three-parter often lacks finesse and sophistication. The story is rushed or clumsily told, and the tone discordant....Watch for Atkins only. She's brilliant.

The indulgence gets annoying, even as the basic details are fascinating and fun, as are the seductive testimony settings. You gotta love the fantasy of all those swank joints and modern mansions.

My pregnant friends polish up the hand-me-downs, shop for the rest of their gear at Target and worry to death about how to make ends meet when it comes to child care. They know what to name their offspring. That's what makes this new Bravo show exploiting the rich all the more fascinating.

Sad thing is, I'm a geek girl myself, who'd be happy to love this mad mix of technology, action and "humor" if it were, you know, actually funny more often than just cheaply offensive. Less pander, more wit, please.

Rule-breaking law enforcers! Wherever have we seen this before? But it sure works Friday, seasoned with devil-may-care brio from a cool cast.

Nice looking, but not nearly enough action.

Smart new cop show that takes time to build, but will reward patience.

With material this thin, the actors can only do a competent job of mimicry. Mimicry is about all you'll get.

Producer Beers' team is the gold standard in male-aimed reality, and these guys have grit to burn.

Body of Proof feels like a show that has nearly been nibbled to death by network ducks. You can almost see the TV executive Post-it notes on the screen.

The problem with Jackie is that split personality--drama or comedy. What's funny here is funny, like last season's final seconds. There aren't enough moments that remind you when to laugh.

For a show forever detonating bombs, it's surprising how sweet and frothy Tara feels. Just a half-hour long, it doesn't waste a second, pulling a gun within the first few and no punches ever.

The performance tends to be monochromatic, and in the end, so is Mildred Pierce. What's especially enjoyable here are the minor performances--especially Pearce as the louche Monty--and the many almost imperceptibly small details, right down to the crockery in a restaurant.

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.

As a family, they are particularly eager to convey a sense of normalcy, but Sister Wives still doesn't have much interest in exploring the religious underpinnings or larger ethical questions of this anything-but-normal lifestyle. You're left without a solid clue why the Browns--all five of them--have gone to this much trouble.

Matt Olmstead and Nick Santora are two solid guys who know how to make good TV and Lombardozzi and Alonzo are superior actors. But there are only flashes of promise 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.

Knox is neither absolved nor condemned, and you'll end up with more questions that you began with. But pay close attention: There are many telling little details throughout.

Thurgood feels more "important" than dramatic. Part of it is Stevens' then-I-did-this structure, more focused on biographical bullet points than the flesh-and-blood human behind them. And part of it is Fishburne, who despite coiled power--his Ike Turner in "What's Love Got to Do With It" was Oscar-nominated--resonates here as a cool character rather than a fiery one.

Producers clearly encourage some to-the-camera carping, but the overriding emotional tone is one of bonding and growth. And respect. In a reality competition!

The dynamics of the show seem different enough that "Housewives" fans will want to give Miami a try. But we'll have to see if the plot lines will sustain interest.

Competent spinoff, but the formula tends to wear like a straitjacket on Whitaker.

Labine and Greer completely hijack the show, and almost threaten to turn Biggs (you'll remember him from "American Pie") and Chalke ("Scrubs." "Roseanne") into props. A well-made and skillfully executed sitcom. Oh--almost forgot--fun, too.

Grim, but a chance to see two magnificent actors at the peak of their powers.

Leaden, dull, flat, tone deaf. Any reason to go on? Sure. This replaces another ex-"Friends" vehicle (Courteney Cox's "Cougar Town," which returns mid-April) that launched with both left feet, then dramatically improved. With all the on-screen talent here, this ex-"Friends" star could eventually shine, too.

A not-unpleasing comedy that takes time and commitment to grow on you. How long? I started to like it three or four episodes in. Seems like an awfully long time, no?

Monday's pilot can't quite close the sale, but there's promise here. The Chicago Code deserves another look.

Of course there are dozens of loose ends in need of tying, but you do get the sense that some will actually get tied, and in a satisfying way.

You see no skepticism in Beyond. No analysis. No thinking. Just a lot of truly scary people yelling at very young kids.

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.

Information tumbles off the screen and often flat onto the floor. Too bad, because much of what's here is very funny, if occasionally cruel.

Unadulterated rubbish, and exactly what fans expect. Bravo, Starz.

Brownstein and Armisen move so effortlessly between characters, then execute their riffs, tics, styles and voices with such skilled abandon that before long this doesn't seem like satire any longer but a fun house mirror reflection of intensely real people.

Its rambling storytelling starts to reveal distinct shape in these people, their relationships and the show's quirky comic perspective [in the second episode].

The cast is phenomenal, the writing inventive and genuinely funny, and you could pick just about any character--Andy or Ann, or Ron or Tom (Aziz Ansari) and almost mistake them for the show lead instead of Poehler. But still not quite in the same league as the show that precedes or the one that follows.

Future episodes aren't as snappy or scenic. But Shahi & Show deliver win-win, anyway.

One little gripe---Pioneers needed to give a tip of the space helmet to some '50s pioneers, such as "Captain Video" and "Flash Gordon." Otherwise, it's all pleasure.

This show lurches along, all its sitcom puzzle pieces laid out without being assembled into even a Hollywood picture of life.

Skins is a bit clunky and even dated at times. Nor does it feel all that grounded in the real world, where it badly wants to be.

Being Human echoes, move for move, the BBC America fave of the same name. Yet, Syfy simplifies the tone into young-adult novelhood, where there's lots of white space around really big print. Subsequent episodes improve as plots thicken.

The pilot's accumulation of cute - oh, for the straightforward simplicity of bowling alley lawyer "Ed" - feels overbearing long before Kelley's courtroom summation turns societal sermon.

Pilkington's musings are sometimes amusing and always pointless, but the animation almost totally nullifies the first and intensifies the second.

[Rhimes] may still be up to her old tricks, but here they seem fresh and energetic. Best of all, she has a solid young cast that pulls them off well.

A particularly fine new FX drama marred only by a tepid pace in the pilot. But pace and story pick up in subsequent episodes.

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

Bob's Burgers might be meatier if it gave us some reason to watch these characters. The title isn't the only thing that feels generic.

Episodes is flawless and hilarious. What a pity it lasts only seven episodes.

While critics like me count quibbles, kids of all ages should share my husband's assessment: "It's a superhero show. Superman flies. Give The Cape a little space."

Coin of the realm - pun intended - for TV games is familiarity, but that hardly confers an urgency to watch this one.

It's silly, ridiculous, fun, outrageous and absurd. Plus, there's Brad.

Jersey Shore is appalling, which is mostly its appeal, but it can also be funny, irreverent and breezily dimwitted--which is the rest of the appeal.

Because this is an all-for-one, one-for-all musical act, these groups are tight and have to be. As a result, the six finalists are very good--which largely makes for good TV.

Maybe this episode really is about repression, erotica and split personalities. Or maybe it's just a good excuse for the show to shake the dust out, ditch the inferno of summertime New York and wander amid the glories of Paris while exploring the discreet bourgeois charms of Blair and Serena. Either way, it's a lot of fun.

You can't help realizing that just by the act of taping a reality show, the Bruces--all nine of them--are already employed in a job, albeit a temporary one.

Though Saget is amiable and likable here, the ratio of good quips to groaners is still only about one-to-four.

Unfortunately, they've settled on far-too-easy and facile answers for the most part.

Nothing particularly interesting or revelatory. For this to work--at least for viewers--The Hoff needs to move past self-parody, or at least take himself seriously. He tries here, but the exercise still seems flimsy and hollow.

Even film school snobs like me can learn a thing or 10 from Moguls & Movie Stars. The breadth and depth of information rushing through each hour is astonishing.

Uniformly excellent - although some additional reporting devoted to the treatment of PTSD would have made this a more complete package.

Who knew beautiful, obscenely expensive cars could be so much fun? These three guys do, and they effortlessly convey their knowledge and nutty passion.

A winner. And for the Hoffmans' sake--plus family and friends along for the ride--let's hope there is gold in that hard, cold ground.

Sarah Palin's Alaska is part-travelogue, part-"Todd and Sarah Plus Eight," part-slick political infomercial, and part Mark Burnett hokum - and oddly fascinating for all those reasons.

So far, so good. No late night talk show has ever been canceled after one edition--not even Chevy's--while first albeit abbreviated impressions of Conan are promising.