Finding original humor in this tired old horse of a format may not only be difficult, but close to impossible.

The fatal attraction story line is a long windup to a punchline you already know, and promos have revealed it as well. The mystery element is plopped down in the middle of that particular story like a lead MacGuffin.

There’s a thing called chemistry, which is little evident in the first few episodes here. Fischer and Hudson seem fine sparring, but not all that connected.

An easily digestible guide to pop culture that can make any water-cooler conversation more interesting (or interminable). But this television adaptation--if tonight's premiere is representative--does not work.

Creator Shonda Rhimes promised deeper, sharper medical stories this season to tether this show to the ground, and tonight Private Practice delivers those - even if the so-called "moral gray" area of each feels contrived.

While "Men" may have the nutritional equivalent of stick gum, there's some genuine charm here along with a surprisingly seasoned and talented cast.

Not bad but not subtle either, this is a broadly told story of overprivileged parents and their wounded offspring. You already know the sorry outcome.

Boo Boo is critic-proof. Call it vulgar, call it schlock, call it a cup of flatulence, call it whatever you like. But John Waters called it first: America loves its trash culture, smells and all.

Drescher is back in a bantamweight sitcom from ancient times — the 1990s.

Accidentally feels like a show that's nearly been focus-grouped into oblivion--with lines, beats and a cultural resonance that's so familiar you can almost see the baseball bat of predictability descending upon your head. So be it. Elfman's fine, as usual. This could be worse.

This hour is focused as much on standup craft as sitcom-building, and fails to put the comics' genre-expanding series concepts into the context of their times.

Murdered innocents, a gory sword fight in slow motion and dry, witty, dialogue. Yes, it's all here, but what's missing is ... excitement.

With "Satisfaction" an hour later proving even USA now knows what adult TV can really be, Rush doesn't deliver one.

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

Greetings From Tucson tries the high-wire act of both avoiding and exploiting Mexican-American stereotypes, and falls flat on its back in the desert sand next to the tire swing and the El Camino. [20 Sept 2002]

Lynch can be as goofy-delightful here as in the ensembles of “Party Down” and “Glee.” But she’s all over everything, all the time, in a show that just won’t let up.

The missing pieces, arguably the most important ones, are the groundbreaking and socially relevant ones. That proficient and fluid animation aside, Disenchantment breaks no ground, offers nothing socially current other than the fact that Bean's a strong, independent woman.

Unlikeable characters fill the foreground, while an unfocused music track fills the background.

Pulp hooey with a comic book vitality and earnestness that manages to keep it (usually) on track.

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.

The series has to update to 2021, or try to anyway. To that end, there are prominent Black characters here for pretty much the first time in series history — better late than never but about as awkward an attempt to redress its unbearable whiteness of being as you might imagine.

You must be content with a standard-issue mob turf war TV series, with thick overtones of "The Sopranos," as heavy and as gloppily applied as all that clay weighing down Farrell. This "Penguin" is a proximate real world, and not even a slightly heightened version of one, with no Batman and no fantasy world to escape to — or for it to escape to.

Swank--who arrives in the second episode--is the emotional core of Trust, also the only character with a functioning heart. In the early episodes, you never quite get to know her, and begin to wonder whether she’s worth the effort. But at least over those episodes, she is the reason to watch--the only one.

The Ranch isn’t hateable as much as just bone-weary. It’s a by-the-dots, or the numbers--whichever are easiest to connect--sitcom that proceeds according to formula.

TV fave Daly is more personally accessible than Janssen and Harrison Ford. And his show is beautifully produced. But we've seen it all before. CBS must figure this old-style genre-single- lead hero, chase drama, closed-end action-is primed for a comeback, though it's hard to imagine younger viewers sitting still for this Diagnosis Pursuit. [6 Oct 2000, p.B51]

Waco won’t be the first drama to reduce a tragedy to its simplest components, but this doesn’t offer much confidence that these are the right components or the only ones. This is Waco in black and white, absent any shades of gray--an inkblot test with just one interpretation.

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."

The outcome is an ersatz facsimile of the original “Trek” and a couple of spinoffs. Their heart and overall spirit are present, along with some decent special effects. The dumb jokes and ham-fisted setup lines just tend to diminish them.