This is a thoughtful, dutiful historic drama filled with all the requisite period details and British accents, too. But what's missing here, glaringly so, are passion and sweep .

Mostly "The Morning Show" is a show in search of itself, uncertain of what to say about the #MeToo movement and workplace misconduct, or how to explore those real world parallels (Charlie Rose, Matt Lauer). This is because "The Morning Show" is often a mashup of verisimilitude with outright balderdashery.

As a viewer, you end up with a show that looks great, but ultimately trips up on the mechanics of basic storytelling.

Two nights implies this will be “epic,” but this is the anti-epic miniseries, where the subject gets smaller and smaller while his crimes get larger and larger. It’s instructional--just not emotionally engaging.

Series star Treat Williams ("Hair," "Prince of the City") is such a fine actor, with so much natural gravity, that he can transcend all but the hokiest writing. And as the opener develops, the writing actually starts to meet him halfway. [16 Sept 2002, p.B18]

Though tension builds to a taut shudder in Monday's Part 2, it all, unfortunately, falls apart in the finale on Thursday. Weber takes so much care in restraining his character from going over the edge too soon, that when he finally reaches that precipice on the rim of madness, he never dives in. It takes courage to go as far over the top as Nicholson did in Kubrick's "The Shining." But that's what's needed to make the crazed ending more than a cartoon. Too bad. Until then, "Stephen King's The Shining" almost got it right. [27 Apr 1997]

While beautiful to look at--some of this was filmed in Wading River, near Herod Point--Zelda can also feel like that TV biopic we’ve all seen before: The one that trudges dutifully along without adding much depth or subtlety in the process.

These four episodes are just about flawless — a cohesive and deeply moving picture of the final hours of two desperately lonely people. Much better still, Dodi is humanized rather than demonized.

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.

Yes, "Impeachment" is watchable and (yes) it's also flawed. But it's fascinating, even though you too may come to suspect, for all the wrong reasons, or one of them anyway.

There are too many characters, too many points of view, all subservient to big ideas that don’t even begin to come into focus until late in the second part--just as the unwieldy story starts to go out of focus.

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

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.

This show doesn't feel even remotely played out.

Because Rudd's Herschkopf is so reliably repugnant and Ferrell's Marty so utterly hopeless, as a viewer you eventually feel trapped as well. There's no way out, no exit, just eight long hours spent with two famous actors who seem to know nothing of the people they're supposed to be.

A viewing of the first two episodes proves to be quite the chore. We're introduced to one-dimensional characters, presented a mystery that the characters themselves barely seem to be interested in pursuing, and we're asked to just sit there and put up with it. It can be rather excruciating.

The first two episodes of "The Right Stuff" offer a lot of promise, but the characters other than John Glenn need to be more fully developed.

Monday’s busy pilot (crammed with setting reveals and visual effects) leads to a sluggish second hour trading the thrill of discovery for downbeat foreboding. Yet the purpose-seeking characters emerge so starkly--Jason Ralph’s disturbed new student, Hale Appleman as his sardonic guide, Arjun Gupta as his itchy roommate, Stella Maeve as his left-behind soul mate. They feel worth following.

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.

9-1-1 is insufferable, but it’s also watchable.

Passable summer thriller with some decent (for TV) action sequences. The plot? You've been there, done that.

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

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.

"Pistol's" most watchable episode is the last, covering the band's first and (effectively) only U.S. tour which crashed and burned after the 1978 concert at San Francisco's Winterland. But what comes before is the humdrum — a whole listless swath that spreads over scenes, characters, and episodes. Hardly anyone catches fire, including Johnny Rotten, although his spiked red hair does do a good impression of shooting flames.

The Lottery, with otherwise sage setup and promising performances, merits its own shot at something great.

Crowe is good to a point, but "The Loudest Voice" can be root canal.

Congenial sitcom set in the great outdoors where everything--even or especially a sitcom--seems just a little bit better.

Neither slop, nor the obverse (a masterpiece), "Grand Hotel" resides squarely and benignly in the middle: A pleasant summer diversion with a good and absurdly telegenic cast .