Still smart, still good, still fun, Human Target remains one of TV's best comic books.

The appealing cast valiantly tries to hack its way through the dense underbrush of jokes about frats and testicles and cannabis. But the harder they hack, the hackier it all becomes. Before long, the jungle has won. The show, and viewer, have lost.

The show is scattered, slight and abominably self-promotional. But Michaels is so full of abundant - and infectious - good cheer that you tend to overlook these many faults. Fans will eat it up.

In Treatment deftly picks up where it left off--midpoint in the journey of Paul Weston's soul--and reminds us why we took this trip with him in the first place. The new cast is superlative, Bryne is intoxicating, and Ryan is an especially excellent addition. Bon voyage.

Cumberbatch and star British producers Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss ("Doctor Who") have performed quite a remarkable feat here--they've created something unique and pleasurable where so many have trod before.

Forgive the pun, but this brass needs polishing. The Green/Burgess team is one of TV's best and we hope they'll make this show as sharp and compelling as it should be.

Like "Mad Men," Wife has an obsessive attention to detail; it's a hurricane of detail, in the visual touches, legal patter and the actors' unspoken flourishes. Nothing seems extraneous or out of place. Also like "Men," this show cares as much about silence as words, or that which isn't said (also a form of eloquence).

Unfortunately, one show's a classic, the other a near knockoff. Nevertheless, Poehler's still got plenty of appeal here.

Maybe the problem with CBS' new Sunday popcorn movie "Mayday" isn't that it could be better. It actually could be worse. Then this would be deliriously mockable trash instead of an occasionally gripping but mostly frustratingly loony piece of hooey.

Housewives fans will enjoy the show but might tire of seeing yet another cast of wealthy, self-indulgent women. It might be time to change it up.

This teacher can be loquacious--oh yeah--but he's got a big heart, too. Danza, Northeast and A&E deserve credit for this series.

Proceed with caution into this foul but funny cauldron of catastrophe.

The new detectives seem so young, eager and fresh-faced that you almost think the Hardy Boys are on the case. Molina's Morales has a bit of that nice New York edge; Howard 's Dekker (in next week's episode) is a little stuffier, duller; he'd probably be better suited to "Law & Order: D.C."

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."

Sunday's episode is a necessary decompression episode after last season's intense finale.

As awful as $#*! My Dad Says is, you almost detect an ember of promise here. Maybe it's Shatner--whom we will always love, no matter what--or maybe it's an illusion. But CBS needs to blow some life into that ember before it's too late. Maybe it already is.

Though American tastes are mocked here, too, laughing at your own group doesn't necessarily excuse laughing at others.

While it's nice to see a show that isn't cops/docs/lawyers, it'd be nicer if the show was better.

These actors are serious sitcom pros, and their show is actually about something genuine--sibling bonding/rivalry, parental button-pushing, relationship-building. It's nice to see some emotional meat in a live-audience staging again, feeding off the energy and reactions of real people.

The show is an old-fashioned courtroom procedural, but the pilot has enough sharp writing and well-greased plot twists to suggest future promise.

"Undercovers" is so content to lapse into genre conventions, that it feels complacent and banal. Worse, Kodjoe and Mbatha-Raw have such minimal chemistry that they seem to be shadowboxing most of the time.

The Whole Truth equals " Law & Order: The Next Generation." It's still just a little too overeager and needs to mature.

Absent the overworked conceit of actors glancing at the camera to register annoyance or irony, this has turned into just another well-produced cop show with some excellent actors, like Imperioli or James McDaniel, who plays Det. Jesse Long and played Lt. Arthur Fancy on "NYPD Blue."

There's not a whiff of actual life here, no grounding character like "Arrested Development's" Jason Bateman . There's just frantic, false and tiresome.

Garcia's single-camera editing amplifies the comedy inherent, rather than being a crutch to create it. And the casting here is as good as "Earl," which is saying something--even if Leachman goes a bit off the rails as wacked-out "mamaw."

Second-season expectations for Glee are almost too high. Potential reality series, movies, spinoffs, tours, record contracts...the surround sound that's jacked up around this hit is now officially deafening. Unrelenting distractions can push series off their game, and there's evidence tonight Glee is off its game.

This is an excellent remake featuring two actors--Caan and O'Loughlin--who almost seem made for each other.

Let's say Lone Star has its work cut out for it, and so does Wolk. His portrayal is too nice--too romantic, too good-hearted, too bland--to make Allen interesting, or at least convincing.

Lots of eye candy, mystery, intrigue, questions, and superlative production values. But who's ready to jump back in this pool again?

The characters couldn't be more bland, and atmospheric Texas settings are ill-used.

Gardell and McCarthy are two of the more realistic-feeling, instantly appealing sitcom personalities in ages. They're enough to make it worth drudging through the sludge tonight's pilot considers comedy writing.

The most entertaining--and beautiful--new series on TV this fall.

Almost public TV-like by current reality-show standards, this new edition is actually a lot like the original, absent the Velveeta. True-blue fans will rediscover its pleasures.

Outlaw isn't bad as much as bogus. The whole faulty premise creaks and groans under the weight of a now-you-see-it-now-you-don't shell game, as key plot points zip by, then are quickly tucked back under their shell in the vain hope you won't remember them, or maybe take them at face value.

Pretty much all a fan (or critic) could ask of a cult series remake is this: Does the newbie measure up? Based on all available evidence--the 42-minute premiere--the answer is yes.

Good start with a pair of shockers. Beware.

The formula's a little too familiar, the pilot a tad dull. But Michalka's a big talent and for that reason, Hellcats has potential.

It's lackadaisical, weary, bland and off-center.

In the third season, the song remains the same. Biblical themes of fathers and sons, fathers and daughters, honor and dishonor, Cain and Abel are all baked under that pitiless California sun. Brace yourselves.

The "Melissa & Joey" pilot is no great shakes. But Melissa and Joey could be.

The Housewives evolve. Yes, watch what happens, if only for the richer plot lines, smarter dialogue and more pressing matters of the day.

Rubicon unfolds at a languid pace, dispensing information at the rate a not-quite-broken kitchen faucet dispenses drops. You want it to speed up. You want some urgency. You want a few more thrills in this thriller. At least this average TV viewer does.

It's an upbeat, glass-half-full hour with some tough love from Tony, who also dispenses sound couples therapy advice. But the hour also feels facile, and rushed.

True-blue fans will swoon. Everything they - you - love about this classic is laid out, banquet-like, Sunday night - the fashions, style, elegance, writing, characters, precision, beauty and most of all, the humor.

Admirers of the novel probably will be pleased. Average viewers who never read the novel (or any historic fiction) will be either confused or bored--possibly both.

I'm punchy after an hour-and-change of lame chases, inane dialogue, ludicrous plot twists and absurdist acting techniques. But by the end of this, I pretty much had a crush on Piper Perabo and Anne Dudek (who plays her sister), so I guess it was worthwhile after all.

Mostly this show belongs to Harmon, once a key member of the "Law & Order" ensemble. She's likable and intriguing. That salvages an otherwise average cop show.

All this is to say, simply, that Passmore is an intriguing screen presence who holds a well-constructed if otherwise boilerplate cop show together.

King didn't actually write Haven but "developed" it for the small screen, which is a form of plausible deniability if things go wrong. With Haven--as somnolent as a summer afternoon--they most likely will.

It's all vaguely familiar and spirited enough to look like shiny summer fare. Just don't scratch the surface.

Problem is, the show is more comfortable with cliché than subtlety.

Often profane and occasionally offensive, Louie won't be to every viewer's taste, but it's a more interesting show than many with a definitive point of view.

Can Rescue Me wrap all this up in the short time left? I hope so, but this episode feels like so much temporizing.

Huge looks and feels like a show that knows what it's talking about.

This show doesn't feel even remotely played out.

It's summer, expectations are low, and you could do a lot worse than this genial, softhearted import.

As with his earlier shows, "Hopkins 24/7" (2000) and "Hopkins" (2008), Wrong has structured these stories masterfully. Nothing seems wasted, nothing is superfluous. As a result, the hugely important work these people do is honored in every shot.

A by-the-book cop show without much bite or heft. But it's got Memphis and Lee.

Bland, with no pop or energy, Scoundrels limps sadly along.

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.

Hot in Cleveland is a by-the-numbers sitcom with a couple of laughs, an inoffensive premise and four seasoned actresses who make the material much better than it is.

Silly, gross, soapy, mysterious, intriguing, exotic, erotic True Blood is fun. Even more fun this season.

The judging process seems arbitrary - a couple of artists are penalized for being too abstract; someone who is even more abstract (let's just say this one likes cats) goes to the next round. Otherwise, a winner.

As a quirky cross between Reynolds' Gator McKlusky and John Cazale's Fredo Corleone, Whitford pretty much hijacks the show. He's fun to watch, even if the show will knock your IQ down a few points.

The show's an enjoyable diversion.

Gravity looks like another slow build. Its characters aren't as directly defined, and initial episodes exhibit curious methods to its storytelling madness.

Party Down took awhile to jell, but it has hit its stride as one of TV's most finely observed comedies.

This is a spectacular new series, with some stunning performances--Pierce, Peters, Zahn, in particular--and gorgeous music.

Like any competent Bruckheimer, "Miami Medical" speaks TV very well. It spins the A, B and C story lines like plates in a circus act. It has reduced the medical jargon to the requisite bewildering-cum-authentic prattle.

An addictive show, with great cast, excellent writing.

Not consistently funny, perhaps, but when Best and/or Falco are on screen, the angels sing. Both are remarkable.

This show--still TV's best--remains utterly true to itself.

Watch for any length of time and you may--as I did--have the eerie if not unpleasant feeling that you've been teleported to a decent network cop show from the 1970s.

From this, you will gain a keen understanding of what lies beneath those endless rows of markers at any military cemetery. This is an honest and often magnificent tribute to the 1st Marine Division.

Mildly amusing, though take out some of the harsh language and you've got more of a Disney Channel or TeenNick series than a memorable Fox one.

The first episode is fairly execrable, but High Society settles down by the second, and we get a clearer--or at least less-boozy--view of Mortimer and her world.

Here's a fundamental truth: Family genealogies are fascinating--to the family in question.

Tere's real promise in Parenthood. In time, we may all genuinely care whether Crosby and Sarah find themselves, or at least grow up.

Here's to a long and fruitful run in the new home. Tuesday night proves exactly why Southland deserves one.

Pleasurable, amusing, well conceived and written, though perhaps just a little shy on character development (New York excepted). Give this one time - these guys feel like they're worth getting to know, and the show as well.

Past Life is a straight-down-the-middle cop procedural--"Cold Case" with a gimmick--when quirkiness, humor and even some bogus science or crackpot theology would have given it some heft or at least a sense of fun.

Gorgeously acted, written, paced, structured and conceived, "Damages" remains one of the best shows on TV--and maybe the most enjoyably addictive.

Caprica feels torn between soulfully mature ruminations and adolescent "accessibility" for gamers wondering where the space action went. Let's hope the pilot's spellbinding second hour points the way toward greatness.

After Spartacus blows most of its special-effects budget on the pilot, it settles into a not-bad sword-and-sandal genre series, a la "Xena" or "Hercules."

Nice cast. Otherwise, charmless. Airless. Lifeless. (Blah, blah and blah.)

The cast has major potential, but Life Unexpected still needs to find an original and compelling voice.

Four immensely enjoyable hours. Alas, I can't speak to what happens during the remaining 20.

Target is pure, utter, ridiculous, over-the-top-into-the-ravine entertainment.

Fans will love every minute--especially Roman's fate.

Ok so Better Off Ted can be oxygen-deprived. This is still one of the funniest shows on TV, and the cast sparkles with vets like Harington, Barrett and de Rossi...Anders and Slavin, too.

At turns it's sad, poignant, bitter and funny (yes, more than enough turns in that direction).

A ninth season. Wow. In fact, a change of scenery has done Scrubs a world of good. The new students are funny. McGinley is great as always--so, too, is Turk (Donald Faison).

The Narrative knot is further jumbled by all the head games Two plays on him and everyone else. Six is on shifting sand, and so, too, will you be.

V has its fun moments, but mostly this is pure bunkum, or 1980s-era TV with a thin 2009 veneer.

Even with endless talk about genitalia and the things people can do to them, The League is surprisingly dull and slack - without snap or payoff.

Quirky, funny, smart, wonderful acting, surprise cameos by cherished actors (Steve Harris, "The Practice"), and a one-two punch by Chandler and Britton that is unbeatable. What's not to love?

White Collar is not original. But White Collar is enjoyable.

We get some slightly bent soccer moms and dads debriefed by an impossibly cheery, cheesy, chummy game-show host. Showtime must have thought there would be great humor and irony in the mundane exchanges recorded here. But it miscalculated. Badly.