Lotsa fast banter and stylish direction will make some viewers dimly recall--as they are doubtlessly meant to--William Powell and Myrna Loy's late, great "Thin Man" movie series.

Breaking Bad is extraordinary, and if the rest of the season matches Sunday, an Emmy nomination for best drama seems certain.

This doesn't pretend to be a deep show, but it's a pleasant diversion with a good cast, and really good (read: expensive) production values.

Neither great, nor horrible, nor propitious nor preposterous. It was just a start, and in the late-night TV game, sometimes that's good enough.

In a word, The Listener is boring. Or, if you prefer alliteration, listless.

The pilot is, in fact, baffling, and needlessly so.

Get beyond that preposterous premise outlined above, and you've got a solid piece of prime-time entertainment. This show knows what it is, and knows exactly what the core audience expects.

A fun show, but where, oh where is all this heading?

The season's premiere represents pig-in-the-python storytelling--there's so much to work through, so many details, stories, characters and time dimensions to attend to, that after a while this all starts to feel like a very full meal.

With a visual sensibility that mimics a video game, Web browser and iPhone, as well as a hearty online presence with a social-networking bent, the new Electric Company seems to deliver.

It's smartly written; clinically interesting (Why is Tara this way?), and maybe even a metaphor for the challenges all women face.

It's pretty much impossible to describe The Beast without getting tangled in the underbrush of potboiler cliche....The good news, in fact, the wonderful news, is that Swayze really is good.

Tonally, this often feels more like a psychological thriller than an action one, which is a very good sign. 24 is thinking, not just doing, and that bodes well for the later hours when our friend has tended to jump the tracks. All in all, a terrific start.

This is TV's best and brightest at the moment, and a wonderful tribute to New York's resurgent TV production industry.

Rest easy. Scrubs is just fine (with all cast members, except Jenkins, back), though the opening episode is superior to the follow-up.

Momma's Boys is so dreadful that it effectively neuters critical disembowelment before the operation even begins.

Leverage's pilot is particularly entertaining. The cast is fine, direction is expert, writing above average, and Hutton's Ford is almost convincing. But the payoff feels laden with cheese of another sort.

By dint of smart casting, imaginative challenges and A-list guests, Top Chef retains its three stars for culinary entertainment.

A few new faces from last season are back, but the formula remains ironclad, right down to the soaring courtroom rhetoric and McCoy's somewhat suspect ethical calculus. This comfort food remains comfortable, indeed.

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

This is TV's best comedy. And there's nothing in the first two episodes that would suggest otherwise.

I do know something about TV shows, and this one works best when Anne Slowey is on camera (which is not nearly enough) and the program focuses on clothing - that great, exasperating, endlessly complicated art form known as "fashion."

Gritty, jarring, profane and smartly produced.

Surprise! Crusoe's good, and by "good" I mean competently produced and acted.

Interesting detours, and a worthy show--but at times just a smidgen too self-righteous and melodramatic.

Far, far, far and away NBC's best new pilot of the season and one of the best new shows of the season, on any network -- commercial or cable.

The producers ("Alias" alums Josh Appelbaum and Andre Nemec) have created a Dickensian (with a nod to L. Frank Baum) universe, draped in shadows, pastels and mystery, while aurally wrapped in chestnuts from the Sweet, Five Man Electrical Band and the Ramones. This new series has enormous promise.

There's some very funny stuff here, but the serious question before NBC is this: How long can it stretch the joke before viewers go stark raving mad?