Still good, still not for everyone, and almost gone for good.

Its tender moments register without feeling forced while the comedy comes in the form of a constant IV drip.

It's homage of the highest form, but comedy of the highest form, too. Cos quite obviously is far from finished.

The documentary cannily employs Goldberg's enthusiasm and some clever animations over Moms' audio routines to keep this lost legend's influence in the forefront.

Quiet, intelligent, worth checking out.

Lively pilot, with plenty of pop--but you've seen it all before.

[Bill Lawrence] scores again here, with an instantly appealing ensemble, from Astin's "soulless upstairs tool" to Rory Scovel as the downstairs dude from "a very competitive community college.

We already know too much and paradoxically too little about the JFK assassination. A TV movie needed to tell us something we don't know. No dice here.

Recycled theory with some fresh perspective--but it still smells recycled.

Besides the scenery, what's best here are the characters, and their lives--or unlives--of quiet desperation.

All dark shadows and gloom, there's a comic-book vigor to the series, and the narrative contortion of a soap.

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

What's missing is passion, joy and (ultimately) interest.

Not that I think The CW has any grasp of the mental mojo that made its WB network predecessor such a pop-culture kick. Really? This twaddle? Every single week?

Excellent actors playing excellent actors--and largely succeeding.

Disgusting--but in a good way.

There's too much going on to tell what might ultimately stick, other than the contents of the Mallow Marsh.

Filmed in New Orleans, Coven wants to soak up some atmosphere, bowdlerize some local history and otherwise creep out viewers. At least on these three points, this season should easily score.

From "The Mod Squad" to "Being Human," TV's young misfits find it [family] where they can, and Tomorrow is that next step, too. Scripter Phil Klemmer wrote for "Chuck" and "Veronica Mars," good arguments for promise here (and "Undercovers," a bad one).

This show captures a distinct culture, and the people jockeying for places in it, trying to prove, mostly to themselves, that their lives have value. And so Friday Night Lights has more than almost any network show today. [5 Oct 2007, p.B33]

The starter hour picks up steam whenever loose-cannon Amick bops around--although Ormond does a nice job of grounding its shenanigans in a semblance of reality.

The strange alt-reality of Sean Saves the World, where a hundred bits of TV past--floating aimlessly in our memories--have coalesced into a cultural artifact that feels as antediluvian as a Walkman.

The Millers shows what a thing of glory hear-the-laughs sitcomedy can be in the hands of masters.

This feels like "funny" by focus group, one composed of cloistered network executives.

A not-bad spinoff that feels older than "The Vampire Diaries" and even more convoluted.

A competent, connect-the-dots procedural that never offers much of a case for why a remake was needed.

There's a glimmer of hope here, and her name is Rebel Wilson. Now, the show needs to match her talents.

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.