This "Party" does what the original did well because it knows all of this. Feelings are universal but circumstances are not. ... The rare reboot with a purpose — and a heart.

Intriguing... but somber and slowww-moving.

Even if it gets permanently blocked in traffic, Latka and Hirsch are a lot for the average TV sitcom. [12 Sep 1978, p.35]

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.

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

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.

Saccharine by jaded prime-time standards, this show still just might be the kind of sentiment lots of viewers crave at the moment.

Above-average newcomer with a great actor in the leading role and frosty grace notes throughout.

Yet as good as "Travelers" often is — the performances of Bomer and Bailey in particular — something is missing. There are no female characters of any particular substance or depth. A few arrive, then go, while Williams' Lucy is mostly a sketch of the "long-suffering" variety over too many of these hours.

The Tenth Inning is dutiful, sober and thoughtful. No spitballs are thrown. No banned substances have been added to bloat it up to obscene, grotesque proportions. What is missing in at least tonight's installment is surprise, or the pleasant shock of learning something brand new or unexpected.

All charisma and command, [Idris Elb] blasts through the screen in every shot while his performance is a constant reminder that the craft, at its best, is a gossamer of countless little details that add up to something magical.

Manhunt isn't out to settle scores, but explain the laborious process of intelligence gathering. No one here is looking for a citation, but understanding, and that's what "Manhunt" does best, as well as--yes--connect some dots.

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.

Dogs is a perfectly pleasant show based on the perfectly reasonable proposition that dogs are people, too.

A re-energized and immensely entertaining start to the third season.

Not a single minute seems superfluous. This is all-engrossing, and all-informative.

Smart, well-crafted, layered — verging on over-layered.

Blessedly for fans who don’t want to work so hard, less so for those wonks who do, the second season is much easier. It’s still brainy while managing to push the new narrative ahead hard and fast. It also manages to splatter the brains too: Westworld is now less a searing indictment of screen violence (the first season) and more a straight-up snuff series.

Middling start, but we've stuck with Rescue Me this long, and no point in bailing now.

Still fun, but the innocent first moments last season were better.

Beautiful, elegant final ride, full of love and nostalgia and joy.

The Jinx does channel that we're-all-on-this-ride-together thrill that hooked so many listeners of last fall's NPR podcast, "Serial," about a murder of a Maryland teen. This may be a high-gloss treatment that utilizes all the tricks of the TV trade, including dramatic re-creations, and a way-over-baked credit sequence, but that sense of unfolding discovery remains.

The early part of the third may not be as good as the first season or stretches of the second, but for a few million anxiously awaiting Sunday, it's still good enough.

Wish the news were better here, but "Reggie Dinkins" is just OK.

The pilot is flawed (most pilots are), not particularly funny and even--bizarrely--deploys two bland jokes from the "Weeds" premiere at 10 (did the writers trade notes?). But Falco is good, proving that she can transcend Carmela Soprano.

Alias suffers from a split personality. It's half John LeCarre, half comic book. In the field, Sydney, who looks about as formidable as your average Vogue cover girl, becomes a spike-heeled super-spy who shoots and karate-kicks her way through a horde of terrorist storm troopers as if they were targets in a video game. She's preposterous, and so is half the show. But viewers who just want to see bad guys die may not mind.

Fascinating and deeply troubling.

A fast and furious romp through the first six episodes that should keep bingers--and fans--happy.