A few emotional moments--most notably graveside ones--otherwise cool, self-aware and almost completely detached from the only reason this is on the air: Whitney Houston.

A grim grind of a trip down that emblematic yellow road.

An interesting, compelling idea for a TV series. Too bad a boilerplate cop procedural had to be the series they got instead.

Overtones of "Rescue Me," absent the wit and bite.

We've just seen this stuff too many times. Merely changing script specifics to Olympic references doesn't make it fresh.

Not exactly satire, not exactly horror, BrainDead is not exactly much fun, either.

There's no drama, no trumped-up conflict, no insights, no revelations and absolutely no discreet view of a once-notorious Dorchester clan that ran wild in the streets but now drives them, coolly surveying their kingdom for another restaurant location.

One Big Happy is just... conventional.

"Lord of the Flies"-meets-a-telephone book, and just about as entertaining.

Married, in particular, is one-note with character tone: clueless people acting heedlessly.

There's no "here" here.

There's no authentic life to Saint George beyond the setup/joke/laugh formula and its witless, gamy punchlines.

This is a shame and a waste of three gorgeous actresses, a wonderful actor (Gross) and an idea that--with a little more wit, smarter writing and less soap--could have yielded a winner.

Pilkington's musings are sometimes amusing and always pointless, but the animation almost totally nullifies the first and intensifies the second.

A couple of the lines are surprisingly offensive, and a couple others even surprisingly amusing.

The Unusuals is not a good show; it is a messy, uneven, silly, inconsequential show.

This series boasts some reasonably high production values, certainly for Comedy Central, with lots of energy, and a sense that it knows where it's going and how to get there. But the tone is so relentlessly mean-spirited, the guys so unlikable, their predicament so pathetic that Big Time deflates before your very eyes.

Even with endless talk about genitalia and the things people can do to them, The League is surprisingly dull and slack - without snap or payoff.

Bland, with no pop or energy, Scoundrels limps sadly along.

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

This is a very good cast laboring through terribly weak material.

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.

There's some charm here, but it's as fleeting as a tweet.

Reminiscent of “Chico and the Man” (the mid-’70s NBC sitcom about a cranky garage owner and his Chicano employee), but it also aspires to a contemporary relevance--but manages only a weary crustiness.

There might be something smartly contemporary buried deep inside Manhattan Love Story, but the pilot is too busy demonstrating its cognizance of connected devices and social media.

You hope for a laugh, pray for one, then give up. To be fair, tonight's pilot runs fast (19 minutes) and feels more like a "sizzle reel" than a fully formed show. Williams, at least, is a genius, and maybe he'll get the time to turn this into something worth watching.

Enjoyable only if you enjoy watching people - and networks - making fools of themselves.

Get past the mawkishness (if you can) and there's a sweetness here, and geniality. The Michael J. Fox Show needs to be much more, but love is hard to shake.