Good re-start and better than the real start last season.

This campfire story may not be getting any smarter, but it should get even better.

Any series that calls itself Wicked City is pretty much asking for ridicule ("Sin City" already taken?), but to then go ahead and stuff the sausage with grade A baloney? That, my friends, is a demand.

Move past the word, and images (fortunately fleeting in the pilot), and Supergirl obviously has a major plus: Benoist.

It's all standard Schumer stuff, and nothing fans haven't sort of heard before, or maybe laughed at before, or cringed at before, or seen elements of before (her 2012 Comedy Central special). Those fans should be pleased. As usual, everyone else will be appalled.

Truth Be Told doesn't let its issues come from the characters. The issues are the characters. Maybe future episodes will flesh out these people, but they initially serve as stick figures on which to hang "outspoken" opinions seeming not necessarily their own.

Stitched into every word, every gesture, is an implicit recognition of that brutal Fargo credo: People can be cruel, stupid, mean and unintentionally funny, even the nice ones. Another winner.

Sunday's episode is exceptional, marred only in a few spots by padding that's inevitable with these supersized episodes.

Like the previous four "AHS" editions, the fifth is a visual feast (which is probably the wrong word here, but you get the idea). Everything--everyone, and not just Gaga--is eroticized, too. Even the shadows are seductive. A shame that it all feels so grim and joyless.

It is amusing in the right places.... It's also reasonably smart without being show-offy. Tuesday's launch, meanwhile, is a nice reminder that nothing--at least that good stuff--has changed.

This unique series is about life's inscrutable mysteries and the search for answers. The town of Jarden--and the Murphys--appear to be rich with possibilities in that search.

Smart, taut, engaging and propulsive. The fifth looks terrific.

After the first season's packed finale, Sunday's episode settles down, takes a breath, and slowwwwws down. That's absolutely an auspicious and necessary development.

Note the parade of cliche characterizations (the way-too-understanding wife who gazes upon her dim guy with affectionate he's-a-dope-but-he's-my-dope amusement). Also the schlock writing.

Not for the squeamish, but a well-done new medical drama.

Noah's Daily Show at once felt confident but also oddly tentative. Smoothly delivered but uneven.... Not quite a rocky start, but not an emphatically comforting one for fans either.

Stamos' half-hour goes on to indulge such other TV trends as black lesbian confidantes, "BuzzFeed listicle" Web checks and the single camera's incessant progression of "witty" repartee jumping to quick-cut "gags" jumping to "awww" sentiment.

The show they're in is amiable enough, but the premise is awfully thin and the pilot doesn't hint at much of anything beyond that.

Hap and Carla are certainly a great-looking couple, standing in the shadow of the North Dakota Rockies. What they're not is a heightened version of Blake and Alexis Colby Carrington, the sort of heights I was really hoping for here.

[Chopra's] attractive, all right, and so is the rest of the telegenic crowd surrounding her. What's missing is much of a reason to care about her (or them). That's the fault of a pilot which spins a wild-eyed premise.

Sure, Thursday's pilot is junk, but it's pretty, diligent junk, essentially The Whopper of action TV, heaped high with mayhem condiments.

Rosewood's pilot is stuffed with hackneyed setups, tedious exposition and character quirks galore.

Whatever it was that made Empire the sensation of the 2014-15 season hasn't gone away for the new season.

The writing is sharp, but sharp-edged too. Overwhelmed with venom, Queens tends to be more mean-spirited than free-spirited. The cast is energetic, particularly Roberts and Curtis, who look like they're having a great time. But they can't quite convey that fun to the audience.

You too may begin to see what this newcomer appears to be: a raucous, smart, gentle, imaginative and consistently funny comedy that scores early and often.

The show could go interesting places, too, even explore provocative ideas--although the pilot pokes at those only halfheartedly. Limitless instead sets up as just another buddy cop show, with a superhero component and a sinister subplot. Those potentially interesting ideas are kicked to the curb.

The parsing of detail is effective because by the end of Monday's pilot, I was surprised by an unexpected reaction: I actually wanted to know what happens next week.

Arthur and Agatha flit through the pilot, barely registering. In fact, no one registers. They're all line drawings in service to some very nice special effects and a pilot that's already tangled up in way too many plot tangents.

[Neil Patrick Harris was] hampered here by a format that might work better on daytime TV than at night, and better in the U.K. than here, and by gimmicks that seem more in step with the Velveeta spirit of "America's Got Talent," and by a show that's almost willfully aggravating, he may have met his match with Best Time Ever.

You've probably already heard Executioner is slow to get into. That's true. But (I think) the setup works, and (also think) it promises a satisfying series.

Tired, self-amused, occasionally boorish, entirely dull and much (much) more about Ferrell than baseball, Campaneris, or those charities. The joke is a long one.

Overall, this was a good start.... The show was rushed, the commercialism troubling, the interviews a mixed bag. But no one looks for perfection the first night--just signs, and they were mostly positive Tuesday.

This is one crazy-paced show, and one smartly crafted comedy.

Morals is raw, interesting, intelligent, sometimes funny (sometimes not), violent (but not overly violent) and unlike anything on TV at the moment.

Seen "Malcolm in the Middle"? It's good, right? Clever, original and fresh? Now imagine it's a tired retread, a shadow of itself. That's this shameless ripoff, which ratchets up the leer quotient and down the brains. [2 Oct 2000, p.B07]

Fear the Walking Dead is slow and a little bit dull.... Now the good. Fear's opening act is a strong one. There's a nice overall build, too, particularly during the second episode.

Successful series have been built around less interesting fantasies, but the creators of That Was Then are almost as hapless as their hero. They saddled themselves with a casting nightmare. As the supposedly 16-year-old Travis, Bulliard looks closer to 26. And in the fake beard that's intended to make him look 30, he just looks silly. In fact, none of the cast members who have to play two ages is convincing. [27 Sept 2002, p.B39]

Most of Luis so far is underdeveloped and oversold. [19 Sept 2003, p.B48]

Blunt Talk aspires to "Network's" kinetically brilliant madness. It arrives a limp and muddled mess.

The best parts of Show Me a Hero are the sharply drawn mini-portraits of people who will ultimately move into the new public housing. Spread throughout the first five hours, you hope you will find a hero there, but in vain. They're just normal people looking for a better life, and ultimately find one.

[Robinson] is funny, and there are fleeting reminders of that.... Then it all goes sour, and flat.

The series actually improves on the movie. This is consistently funnier, weirder and more inventive.

The Bomb is a headlong-rush past the milestones and guideposts of this history, rarely pausing to explore their deeper consequences or meaning, while offering just a nod now and then to enduring controversies, or acknowledging--though barely exploring--the huge personalities that shaped this history, such as Robert Oppenheimer. The actual science is almost completely ignored.

It veers, sometimes swerves, between a public service tone and made-for-primetime spectacle. That can be disorienting, too. But, for the moment, all viewers can do is take I Am Cait at its word, or the words of its star.... I Am Cait now has no choice BUT to get this right.

Syfy knows we come to this only for the sharks, cameos, chain saws, acting--the worse, the better--and dialogue so sublimely inept that even the sharks wince when they hear it..... For discerning viewers and shark lovers everywhere: F+. For Sharknado fans: B+

Sex&Drugs&Rock&Roll smells suspiciously like a vanity project that sat on Leary's shelf for a couple of decades.

What you will certainly see is how finely tuned both the marital observations and comic timing are.... This summer's must-see comedy smash.

Impastor weakens its good work by trying a bit too hard.

Masters of Sex just gets better and better.

The pace has slowed, the ride less wild, the story refocused on Ray's "fixer" skills.... McShane and Holmes are welcome additions.

In the three episodes Comedy Central offered for review, most of the sketches work, some don't. But the best of the lot is next week.... just might be that breakout season.

As genre satire, Spoils is amusing. As film study, it's informative. As a viewing experience? Uneven: Sometimes funny, a little more often not.

Scream is exactly what you'd expect. It may also be exactly what you want.

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.

A stylish, intelligent production.

[The] tightly crafted pilot abjures the urge to make its own judgments on good/evil, sanity/delusion, isolation/connection, conscience/capitulation.

The same strut and swagger is here, except Ballers feels smarter and more clear-eyed about the dangers of this culture, in ways "Entourage" never did.

The Brink is a grim would-be comedy grindhouse full of half-baked one-liners propping up an overbaked plot.

Hip deep in all the chicken droppings about the movie, you would hardly know that it's a damn good movie. [9 Sept 1993, p.109]

"Potential," in fact, is the key word. It's definitely here, but "2" may also need all eight episodes to realize it.

Nix knows how to dig deeper holes for his folks, while he broadens their motivations, sometimes recognized only along the way. Nix isn't bad at keeping the plot pot percolating, either.

Of necessity, the story is so rushed, the characters so carelessly brush-stroked, that what should be climactic--the first manned spaceflight--feels incidental, almost blase.

Beals and company (including Joe Morton as her remarkably flesh-and-blood boss) breathe life into this tale the way their characters restore life to patients, with skill and guts and, crucially, souls that radiate precisely what this show is about.

By the end of the first season, the show had improved significantly, if not quite dramatically, and based on a viewing of the first two episodes, that trend continues.

While neither dialogue nor sitcom tropes could be called fresh, the pilot plays solid, relying on able actors to score under tight direction (James Widdoes).

These too-timid re-enactments, punctuated with the occasional burst of VFX gunfire, are interspersed with some informative commentary by real experts like veteran mob reporter Selwyn Raab and dramatically less informative observations by actors like Vincent Pastore, who of course played a mobster on TV.

A great ensemble cast and characters who grow in complexity, and humanity, episode by episode. If you didn't know them after the second season, you will get to know them well in the third.

The result is not just a great comic book transfer but a warmly human cartoon that's goofy, clever and touching. And cool. What else do we need? [8 Nov 2001, p.B35]

This can sometimes be an exercise in rehashing as opposed to reassessment.... The Seventies, however, gets better when the story gets stronger, or at least more resonant.

The thing that's really creepy about Harsh Realm is how predictable, superfluous, and gratuitously murky and convoluted all this intrigue seems. [8 Oct 1999, p.B55]

Tales From the Crypt scared the living bejesus out of me...We are talking major league fright time here, folks. [9 June 1989, p.5]

There's substance in Jill with hubby Andy and with her doctor best friend (comic KK Glick, a Huntington native), all proving levelheaded and likable. That helps leaven the snooty stereotypes of our initial path into Jill's world.

A series that can still be occasionally talky and turgid.... Hardwick's the better and smoother actor, and certainly the more appealing one. But it's Jackson who gives this show bite and--to a considerable degree--life, too.

[The stories] mostly do stand on their own. Some are better than others.... a winning cast.

By summer's lower standards, the series is watchably preposterous. [19 July 1992, p.3]

Nightingale is really about David Oyelowo, a magnificent actor with astonishing range who draws viewers deep down into the darkness with his character. His skill in accomplishing this, of course, makes Nightingale something to be admired rather than loved, and, depending on your mood, maybe even something to be avoided.

You can see Halt reach for that something. You can't quite shake the sense that Halt doesn't know what that "something" is.

With feet of clay, Aquarius plods relentlessly toward a climax everyone already knows, while making just enough fictional detours to make the journey truly exasperating.

Not exactly the freshest premise for a comedy. But what Coach lacks in flash or originality, it makes up in steady execution. A winning cast and decent writing will do that. [28 Feb 1989, p.II-13]

Like its net- mates, Birds of Prey boasts sharp casting of little-known performers whose personalities prove as feistily engaging as their exquisite looks. And, of course, they're smart talkers.

Powerful story. A shame Bessie rarely conveys the story's emotional wallop.

Enjoy the atmospherics. They're good. Just don't expect them to lead to a satisfying payoff. It might never come.

The setup is stagey, the dialogue slack (or--worse--obvious).... [Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin] effortlessly know how to elevate even average material--and pretty much do so here.

I've watched tonight's show, the pilot, three times already - and not because I'm searching for the clues that Affleck and Bailey have embedded in the film. I love hearing nerdy IRS agent Jim Prufrock's improbably forceful declaration of why he loathes tax cheats. I love the way the Push residents talk about their local "slow-dance bar" as if it were as commonplace as a KFC outlet. I'm curious why all the couples in Push make love every other night at precisely the same time. I admire the creative visual presentation, which rivals that of a good commercial or music video. [17 Sept 2002, p.B03]

What's most intriguing here is deconstructing the process, when Stewart outlines the surprisingly demanding "skill set" needed by "Daily Show" correspondents (with supporting clips), when Colbert clarifies how their shows are only "curating the news" to the point of setting up "the joke you wish to tell."

This is far more than a generous compilation but a two-hour fast-cut that attempts to reassemble a fractured mind from its own filings.

Where "Batman" played it straight, and was therefore kinky, Scorpion smugly thinks it's cute, and therefore isn't. Its cops are Keystone, its star is personality-free and its plot progressions are dippy-dumb. But Lintel's poppin' chest is always well-lit, gunfire is frequent and spectacular explosions keep topping themselves. [4 Jan 2001, p.B31]

By losing the emotional core of the film essentially after the first act--the death of Kinnear's saintly Fairbrother--the film spends the next three-plus hours trying to fill the void. Fools rush in to fill it, but because most of them are treated with such contempt, or pity, none can or possibly could.

[Shalom Auslande's] worldview is one part Christopher Hitchens, one part Samuel Beckett, one part Louis CK.... If all that makes his funny-ish new show sound bitter, angry, provocative and even compelling, then (well) that's because it is. But Happyish can also be wildly uneven and a little too smug in its certitude.

This remains an intelligent, well-made drama that wants to get most of the history right, or at least not adulterate it too much.... But, alas, same virtues, same flaws.

The show also feels more nuanced. If season 4 was like a giant exhaled breath, then season 5 is an inhaled one. The story beats are more deliberate. There's also a sharpened sense of building anticipation--or impending doom.

As a team, they [Billy Crystal and Josh Gad] are better than the shows--both the real one and the fake one--they're in.

Tragedy is hard, comedy harder, while mixing both together seamlessly is just about impossible week after week. That Louie usually succeeds is a minor miracle. That it doesn't always is inevitable. Thursday's opener, "Potluck," has a funny twist but ends up in a strange, bitter place--even by Louie standards.

Bleak and desperate? Possibly (the song [Peggy Lee's haunting cover of the classic Leiber-Stoller song "Is That All There Is?"] is just a sad song). But here's the surprise: Severance makes the opposite case.

Wolf Hall really is one of the great pleasures of the small screen this year, even if it doesn't initially make much of an effort (like Cromwell) to curry your favor. But stick with this one. The rewards are considerable.

There are, in fact, too many plates. At worse, they induce vertigo, or prevent close inspection for logical consistency (and there is some). But at its best, they promise something unique, even smart.

This is four hours of love and music, but the film also wants to address the many controversies, then excuse them. The result: Some lily-gilding, and far too many observations we've heard far too many times before and factoids, too.

Because this [Manhattan-cetric romcoms where self-absorption ultimately gives way to romance] is such an overly familiar TV trope, it demands great chemistry among all the leads and sharply funny dialogue to match. I wandered through this purgatory for three episodes and found zilch.