Liz & Dick is not a complete disaster, nor entirely is Lohan.

Though they certainly cover the heady early days, filled with screaming girls and their cultivated persona as the anti-Beatles, Mick Jagger and Keith Richards aren't afraid to keep it real. Both show some interesting insights into their success.

It's all weirdly engrossing.

It aims for epic, and sometimes hits epic--but it's a bit shallow.

Not great, not terrible--just your standard-issue TV movie about a well-known historic event.

Browncoats Unite keeps the focus on the work itself. And that's what keeps "Firefly" afloat.

Mann and HBO deserve much credit for profiling these extraordinary people. It's just too bad the execution tends to be a little long-winded or not nearly as expansive as it should be.

Malibu Country is nothing great. But its studio-shot sitcom style sure suits Reba.

Outrageous, eccentric, funny, campy--and too creepy for small kids.

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.

Apartment 23 was and absolutely remains a huge heaping helping of Acquired Taste.

Happy Endings, cast and all, has now officially jelled. The show exists on the same cosmic (and comic) TV plain as "Scrubs," "Arrested Development" and that other late bloomer, "Cougar Town."

Film lovers will--possibly against their better judgment--love Jones' Hitch.

A loving portrait of a lady--but who probably would be just as happy not to have this or any portrait at all.

The narratives here lack subtlety, historic context or--strangely enough--even drama.

Asylum has some good special effects, just not much of a story to hang them on.

We've been down this road before and all the signposts of Underemployed look the same.

At least Emily proves she's got the chops to cast a shadow of her own.

Sunday is a blast. Heads will roll, and roll well. The gore quotient is through the roof. And finally this guarantee--there is one, maybe even two, spots where you will yell out at the screen, "Oh, my God, that just didn't happen." Yes, the new season is that good.

Fans will be happy--maybe.

Absent a compelling core romance, and absent a passably beast-like beast, you're left with a sodden police procedural.

Solid start to what could--and maybe should--be a future CW franchise.

Chicago Fire definitely has familiarity going for it and familiarity going against it as well.

The hype is justified. Nashville's terrific.

The Girl is getting older, but there's still pleasure to be had on the final lap.

Still sweet and sad, but often dour and slow, too.

They almost seem to jump off the screen; they have depth and dimension, and vivid colors proliferate. This new series retains its trademark humor, and trademark violence, too