An enjoyable and accessible pilot episode, one that brings the iconic admiral down to earth (literally), gives him lots of great dialogue, and reunites him with an old ally and monstrous adversary that even those of us not schooled in all things Trek will remember.

Little America, a beautifully crafted new anthology on Apple TV+, takes the emotion and noise out of one of our most contentious political topics — immigration — and replaces it with poetry, humor, and the compelling stories of ordinary people seeking a better life in these United States.

68 Whiskey moves confidently into the small but mighty clique of military comedies that balance the absurdist tragedy of war with the intense emotional bonds and improvised code of ethics on the front lines. ... Chalk up another win for the new kid on cable's block.

There are a lot of shows getting reboots that maybe shouldn’t (Roswell, really?). But this is a timely and smart retelling of a unique story about children coming of age in a modern, mixed-up world without their parents to rely on. While watching I kept asking myself, as I imagine many viewers will as well — what if this were my family?

Creator Joshua Safran has assembled a good crew of writers to weave all the threads together. The dialogue of Sam and Nellie’s first date crackles.

Not only its most promising show to date but one that could serve as a template for future Apple TV+ shows. It’s a good-verging-on-great anthology series with storylines, writing, and casting that could be replicated again and again, allowing Apple to widen its lane while shrinking HBO’s. ... [Octavia Spencer and Aaron Paul] alone are worth the investment of eight hours of your time.

Unlike anything that’s ever been seen before… because bears. Real live bears. ... I enjoyed the hell out of it. As a competition it’s pretty lame. But as a specific kind of reality subgenre — the one where humans of mediocre talent are goaded by TV producers into taking on a challenge way above their heads and failing spectacularly — Man Vs. Bear is more than… well, bearable.

All of this works better if you watch it as a comedy or whatever genre bucket you think Shyamalan belongs in. Indeed, if you try to watch Servant as a horror show, or a suspenseful thriller, I think you’ll be disappointed and even a bit bored. ... Whether Servant can deliver on this promising start, only time will tell.

Parton’s Madea-like role in the “Jolene” episode is a big part of its appeal. ... Heartstrings does not suck. Know what would make it suck even less? More Dolly.

Silicon Valley in many ways still feels like the hacker-house ensemble comedy it started out as, even though Pied Piper now has 532 employees and a thicket of fiduciary and ethical entanglements that have built up over the years and will drive the storyline these final seven episodes.

Fan fiction may not be the best way to describe Dickinson, but I think it captures the overall adoration of the poet that went into the making of this show. ... All of this is pretty engaging. But then at seemingly random moments Dickinson shape-shifts into a sitcom, and that’s where it loses me.

Having Helen Mirren fabulously bring this overlooked monarch to life at a moment when women’s fitness to lead is, unbelievably, still being questioned makes this four-hour romp worthwhile. But I’m struck by two things. Catherine the Great looks and feels like something HBO could have done 15 years ago, and indeed did do 15 years ago with this same team.

The execution of Living with Yourself is mostly brilliant. These eight half-hour episodes go fast. If I have a quarrel with the show, it’s that too much time is spent on the admittedly rich storylines that can be developed from this premise. ... Really, you should watch Living With Yourself for Paul Rudd and... Paul Rudd. A role like the two Mileses requires a surprising amount of emotional range, and Rudd’s got it.

Episodes begin disorientingly in the middle of something and build toward a reveal, which isn't a bad way to go when you have 25 minutes to tell a thousand-word story, but the payoff doesn’t always seem worth it.

At its strongest, this series gives solid, easy-to-grasp explanations for why the human brain likes dividing the world up into “us” and “them” and why that impulse is so hard to resist. At its weakest — specifically, the two episodes after the one airing on Sunday — Why We Hate is more like How We Hate, dwelling too long on the political divide in America and the role social media plays in pitting people against each other.

Even if you see only one episode, you’ll come away understanding how dramatically the country’s immigration policies have changed under this president. You’ll feel in your gut the human toll that change has exacted. ... It’s powerful — too powerful, so powerful it overloads our emotional circuits.

Bless the Harts feels true right out of the gate.

Sunnyside is a work in progress. As we saw with The Good Place and Parks & Rec in their first seasons, Schur has the confidence to put what he has on the screen and work with it as the show goes along.

Instantly likable prequel to Black-ish. ... Mixed-ish is a delightful example of how history — not nostalgia — can be used to help us see our present day more perceptively through the lens of yesterday.

Fortunately, Stumptown is blessed with a proven TV and movie star playing a character who herself arrives on screen fully formed. It’s years away from becoming a classic in its own right, but it reminds me of one, and that’s a good start.

What Unbelievable shows is that you can make a scripted show about our broken criminal justice system that is as entertaining and human and likable and satisfying as any paint-by-numbers drama, if not more so.

A beautifully crafted account of country music’s origins and numerous personality changes and facelifts. It is entertaining and arguably has the best soundtrack of any Burns film (and I loved Jazz). Country Music is also full of provocations that should, at some point or another, unsettle everyone watching.

Sometimes it takes an ordinary thriller or procedural to make an extraordinary point. The Spy offers entertaining proof of this.

Fact-based, fast-paced, and infuriating as all hell, Free Meek benefits from having the participation and financial backing of Jay-Z and his Roc Nation company; from the support of Meek’s tight-knit family that accompanies him every step of the way; and by having a fabulous explainer in Rolling Stone’ investigative journalist Paul Solotaroff, who helped nationalize the Meek Mill story in 2017 and whose silver throat makes anything sound like butter.

Another musical rom-com seemingly designed to cherry-pick the Crazy Ex audience. ... The songs are bright and clever, and the visuals reflect the show’s slightly bigger production budget, e.g., a simple animation that turns the office copier into a flip book.

In the end, this show may wind up going the way of Rectify, an almost pure form of character drama in which storylines take a backseat to the sheer pleasure of watching a human being evolve before one’s eyes, as David Young does on David Makes Man. Either way, I know I'll be watching.

Despite the pacing, or maybe because of it, Our Boys is actually pretty engrossing. And it’s timely. ... By slowing the pace of its narrative, Our Boys buys itself enough time to see these nuances in its main characters, a luxury you don’t get on a typical episode of SVU. ... More than a crime show, this is a parable about the endlessly repeatable cycle of outrage and violence that has humans around the world in its grip right now.

You might want to have the closed captions switched on for Bulletproof, as some of the accents are Yankee-proof. Then again, if you miss out on the dialogue on this show you’re not missing much. That’s because, thanks to director Nick Love, each episode of Bulletproof is chockablock with car chases, foot pursuits and other Hollywood octane movie tropes. Another thing it’s loaded with: gunfire. Lots and lots of gunfire.