The show juggled a lot of storylines last night, maybe too many, but the vibe feels right. "90210" is not a disaster, and the CW can now officially let out a deep ... sigh ... of relief.

Good show with fine cast, but it all still feels a little too familiar and old-fashioned.

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.

Some amusing bits, but for every one of those, there are 10 misfires.

Cho has long been an acquired taste, and - while her fans will luxuriate in these 22 minutes--few newbies will acquire that tonight.

Producers play this for laughs, though just slightly. (These are high school kids, after all.) Even so, the show's flat and almost stunningly uninformative.

In the world of reality shows, this well-produced series is better than most. Betwixt and between all the emotional upheavals and drama, Coffey, only slightly witchy, dishes out sound advice.

Besides the fine acting, writing and an attention to period detail that borders on the obsessive, what makes this show so ambiguous and pleasantly iridescent is narrative tension

The thing looks stylish, has a nice cast, is well written, and Bratt--scruffy, unkempt, a little more than off-center here--has the requisite intensity for the role. But it also is jarringly slick and borderline seamy; maybe that's just part of the fast world Banks and his cohorts find themselves in, but the tone ultimately robs the show--or at least the pilot--of heart and passion.

You'll be happy to know that every second -- particularly every second with Sedgwick onscreen -- is pretty much a joy.

You get the sense that the filmmakers' vision and Wright's are never quite in sync--or perhaps are in sync too perfectly.

The first half is tautly produced, before there's a dramatic--and dramatically dull--downshift that'll get you ready for beddy-bye.

It's smartly acted, well written, funny, expertly directed and hugely entertaining. And utterly, totally, profoundly devoid of pretension.

The pilot was so uneven that the whole affair nearly veers into "Reefer Madness" territory--the kind of over-the-top cautionary fable that subverts honorable intentions through hysteria or cliche. Despite its pedigree, Teenager doesn't appear to have ever stepped inside a high school, either.

The best unscripted show on commercial television this season, which you may correctly point out is faint praise; but in this case, it's not.

ABC hasn't provided much in advance to watch--smart network!--but there were some clips for Wipeout, and they were (seriously) hilarious.

Call Girl is a dreary London day. A pass.

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

Swingtown can't decide whether the '70s were transformative or deformative; there's a distinct ironic edge, applied mostly through the use of music.... But that edge isn't nearly sharp or funny enough (unlike "Weeds"), which tends to muddle the point of view.

A breath of cold, bracing and - bless it - fresh air. Eisner's fable is dark, almost impenetrably so, though skillfully rendered. Best of all, nothing here has ever been performed on reality TV, the best I can tell.

A watchable and skillfully made telefilm (Jay Roach of "Austin Powers" fame directed) that is, nonetheless, marred by a melodramatic reliance on Good vs. Evil, and guess which side is which?

The 10 hours of PBS' immersive miniseries Carrier are frank and intimate, hard-hitting and heart-rending, rocking (with hit songs) and rolling (when the ship pitches so sharply, planes can't land).

Tonight's episode is superb, and barrels--relentlessly--toward the answers.

ABC's latest single-camera comedy is utterly relatable. Even better, it's filled with the same warm yet witty, always smart and eccentric vibe as previous misfit-student faves "Square Pegs," "Popular" and "Malcolm in the Middle."

Our mouths may be open, but more likely agape than laughing.

What Canterbury has powerfully going for it, besides the magnetic/vulnerable Margulies, is a cast surrounding her with equal strength, from principled second Ben Shenkman to Terry Kinney as their sneaky prosecutorial adversary, plus an array of effective guest stars from the rich East Coast acting pool.

This Fox series is smartly written and acted, and it's even evocatively filmed in New York locations that lend it a gritty city flavor. But.... Less persuasively entwined is a heavy-handed romance whodunit.

Pathos may make for a more positive reality TV experience than a parade of lying, backstabbing and physical torture. But the basic appeal remains pathetic. Perhaps in more ways than one.

The "quarterlife" series, too, offers an especially hopeful kind of exuberance, even a glowing warmth to the friendships, that shines brighter than previous Herskovitz-Zwick shows.

The second season of CBS' cult fave broadens beyond the first season's lawless action and family sentiment, even its rallying sense of community, to a wider and deeper purpose.

NBC's superficial knockoff is just Lipstick on a pig.

There's nothing to relate to here, just to observe from afar, and only Tambor's as-always deft comic distraction gives us anything worth glancing at.

Eli Stone is fated to flounder.

This stuff is good. No, superb.

Like a series of one-act two-handers--stage plays where just a pair of actors face off--this sneaky little gem steadily strips away its therapy patients' emotional defenses and excuses, exposing the raw fears and paralyzing reactions beneath.

Creator Vince Gilligan ("The X-Files") never loses touch with the mundane reality that so brilliantly magnifies its absurd horrors.

As bizarre as things can get, Torchwood still feels more like sci than fi, and more ego/id than alien vs. human. The Gwen character in particular radiates intelligence, and empathy, and curiosity, about what's out there and what lies inside Jack. We can't help but share her, um, enthusiasm.

Humans vs. cyborgs in a movie spin-off that's surprisingly effective for fans of both action and character drama.

Despite occasionally expressing Simon's concerns about journalism too pedantically, The Wire continues to deserve its accolades as the most remarkable drama series in television history.

ABC's new computer animated Shrek half-hour seems to disqualify itself from the timeless category almost immediately by insisting on being "hip" (which means anti-hip), usually at the expense of feeling real.

The busy season premiere quickly constructs an intriguing seesaw of aspirations and emotions, and it's self-contained enough to sell itself to even Nip/Tuck newcomers.

Samantha Who? which is not nearly as cool a title, but still a sparkling comedy that treats its viewers as--gasp!--actual grown-ups.

The women's friendship radiates authentic undertones, beneath all the gooed-up personal drivel, although it's way too convenient how they always show up simultaneously at the same crime scenes.

On top of the stars' subtlety and Fuller's verbal wit, Sonnenfeld's pilot direction ladles layers of flashy frosting--theatrical camera angles, emphatic zooms, intensified color and those heavyhanded moments when the narration can't quite straddle the sap line.

Carpoolers is like a flimsy "Saturday Night Live" skit pounded home and running on beyond endurance. Actors sputter their lines, dither and whimper like some 1950s sitcom.

This narrated comedy-drama finely observes the particulars and peculiarities of teen life, both in the family its narrator is trying to outgrow and the high school pecking order he's hoping to rise in.

Alex O'Loughlin is bogged down by trite dialogue, half-hearted support, perfunctory exposition, and better-to-look-good-than-make-sense production priorities.

No matter where the goofy "Desperate Housewives" goes, it's not into the toilet, which is where Big Shots spends its time both literally and figuratively.

NBC's new Bionic Woman remake is a desolate slab of ice where any resemblance to human beings - alive, dead or cyborgian--is purely coincidental. It's hard to imagine a bigger modernized mess being made

Good thing is, this ABC hour lives up (down?) to its name, arriving as a wacky/kinky escapist saga of screwed-up rich folks and the down-to-earth family attorney/fixer hired to sort out their shenanigans.

Lewis is such a commanding presence that Sarah Shahi is rendered little more than an accessory as Dani. There's nothing going on between the partners at the outset, but this is subject to change.

Private Practice is hugely disappointing, and in so many ways that a mere review can't even begin to do all the problems injustice.

It's all sharp and snappy.

Cane" is not a bad show, and it's sporadically a good one. Merely, great expectations have not been met.

The pilot still is often clever and engaging, but confusing too.

The real-world intrigue is matched in dramatic flair by Chuck-world jeopardy. His store's fierce assistant-manager competition resounds as fatefully as saving the universe from evil. Which makes the dark light enough and the light dark enough to meld into a tasty escapist treat.

There's just too much shtick and not enough personality, especially when the stars' previous hits found their funny in relatable human behavior.

Gossip Girl actually isn't bad by the standards of the medium--with "The Hills" pretty much being the standard--and it's even surprisingly competent.

This show is slickly packaged and unchallengingly trite in its slavish reality-show construction.

It's daring, disconcerting and/or enlightening.

He's sincere; he rings true. And that is why, in the wasteland of reality and makeover shows, Gunn shines.

It's got some charm and there's some humor here, too--mstly at Jones' expense. But seriously, don't you have something better to do tonight?

Disney's HSM2 delivers precisely what's required. And America is all ears.

Giving us hope are Kapinos' brisk writing and Duchovny's agile performance, conveying smarts, savvy, self-indulgence and sad stupidity in equal amounts.

Nobody seems to be having any fun here, not even lording-it-over-everybody Ming. You'd think next week's second episode might be better, once all that exposition is out of the way, but you'd be wrong. It's even more lifeless.

If only the delicacy of these two character actors [Alfred Molina and Michael Keaton], were matched by that of The Company's central figures and the production's overall arc.

Richness of detail permeates this modern tube-noir. The more damage done, the more juicy fun for us to savor.

To steal from the old beer slogan, (this show) looks great, (but it's) less filling (than it intends).

As well as New Yorkers know these three characters, it's amazing how quickly the real faces fade and the three actors here become their own "strong-willed people."

These folks know how to hit a note, and hold it, which means "Burn Notice" doesn't wobble around wondering how serious/silly to be. Its pitch is perfect.

[A] treacly piece of tripe.

Fans of "The Sopranos" looking for a new Sunday-night must-see may find it here - though perhaps not fans driven to fits by that HBO hit's ambiguous conclusion.

"Flight of the Conchords" isn't brilliant, but it isn't awful, either, just familiar, with two likable stars who seem to be channeling the deadpan dry wit of an old Beatles movie.

Little of it adds up to much of anything but foul-minded mischief.

"Big Love" does more this year than you might expect, and more richly, more provocatively, more dramatically and amusingly, too.

Ultimately, viewers just have to work a lot harder to fathom John from Cincinnati than Tony from Jersey.

The intimate moments have a gutsy realness, and the central characterizations are bedrock enough to sell us through the stereotypes.

Don't believe the critics who tell you "Hidden Palms" stinks after they watched only the first episode.... This is a seriously involving serious show. A show about something.

A pretty nifty, if completely insane, suspense/conspiracy/ chase/road adventure.

"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.

"The Tudors" could actually use a touch of the over-the-top wildness that undermined the substance of HBO's "Rome." If we could blend the two together somehow, we might have a kickily effective history mash-up.

They've translated the radio show's aural mosaic to the visual medium so effortlessly in this first season of six half-hours, we hope Showtime orders more of this life we all can recognize.

The stories may hardly be innovative... but their very familiarity becomes comforting.

It's hard to convey all the ways that this tightly directed show goes right: quietly observant character detail, solid sleuthing, play-it-straight absurdity and sneaky "Airplane!"-style parody riffs.

"Raines" is both thoroughly conventional and thoroughly unconventional; in fact, it often revels in its conventionality.

There's nothing unexpected here, and certainly no adventure, just who's sleeping with whom, and who's the daddy, and why they're still so juvenile, and how Tom Berenger ended up in this soapy soup.

A relentlessly grim and deeply depressing viewing experience.

There's greatness begging to be grasped here, and nobody has a handle on it.

This impressive fact-based debut from cultural journalist turned director Nelson George keeps us captivated simply by honing in tight on the character of its people, sketching in fine detail not just their admirable strengths but their all-too-human flaws.

It is awful. It is truly awful. It is awful in ways that make the word "awful" seem inadequate.

The emotional reality is so true here that not only do they get away with an assortment of gags about condoms, massage parlors and other juvenile fixations, but they make them resonate endearingly.

"Donnellys" creaks and sighs, moans and slumps, and ambles along like a world-weary cliche, unable or unwilling to lift its head above the humdrum banality to which it has been consigned.

This one isn't David Spade's fault. Really it isn't.

If all this sounds like "24" has been hijacked by public policy wonks or Shakespeare profs, don't worry. Your show very much remains your show.... It's just that your show got a little smarter.

"Emergency" is sodden, forbidding, a waste of 22 good minutes.

A sweet, gentle, good-natured trifle that is (nonetheless) surprisingly airless and only rarely funny, if that.

"Lost Room" is a shaggy dog story that gets shaggier with every scene. It's a tale as tall as the Empire State Building that threatens to topple in the merest breeze but - miraculously - never does.