While it displays some dazzling visual flair and is plenty ambitious in its scope, like a certain famous Scarecrow, this ponderous revamp doesn’t seem to have much of a brain at all.

[A] very successful revival of one of TV’s all-time great series. A sequel that actually exceeds our expectations? Now that’s something to be thankful for.

It’s a lot of money spent in service of a show that’s not very good. It’s well-intentioned, but Mad Men already chronicled this era with much more skill and subtlety.

If The Great Indoors can maintain a balance of smart, and not tired, barbs lobbed between “the human version of dial-up” and the “stupid twentysomethings” with whom he must now work, there surely is a show here.

The whole enterprise just feels very phoned-in. LeBlanc appears mostly disinterested during his scenes, and the script doesn’t bother to give Adam any character traits beyond “a slightly less dumb version of Joey.”

Fox’s new version is a vibrant adaptation that faithfully captures the spirit of the original. But... there’s also a fatal flaw here that threatens to spoil the whole party. ... [Laverne Cox is] glaringly miscast here. She doesn’t stand out from her misfit horde like Frank should. Her singing isn’t up to snuff with the rest of the cast.

Divorce is raw and uncomfortable at times... but it’s also one of the best new comedies of the year.

DC’s Legends of Tomorrow remains an odd bird. ... The better news is that once aboard the ship, the ensuing backstory on the Legends’ predicament tees up a rollicking, rat-a-tat recap of their off-season flitting through time.

Supergirl very much plays in the same brightly colored playground as The Flash, sprinkling in nerdy nods (“Miss Tessmacher!”) with vivid action sequences. Serving up an ongoing villainous threat, though, seems to remain its storytelling Kryptonite.

The Flash‘s return is a tremendous amount of timeline-tweaking fun, though the premiere closes with a gut-punch of a twist.

Arrow is back with--thankfully--what promises to be one of its more grounded, grittier seasons ever. ... Perhaps the best news is that the fifth and final round of flashbacks are, one could argue, as compelling as the current-day narrative.

A show like Conviction, which is fine but not terribly inspiring.

Again, Daredevil, Jessica Jones and now Luke Cage take… their…… time in unspooling a 13-episode story, rarely serving up action scenes just because.

Whether you’re intrigued by the characters, you’re still likely to be sucked in by the series’ mythology, a seemingly impossible puzzle that Ed Harris’ ice-cold gunslinger is dangerously determined to solve. ... In the nimble hands of the series’ creators, the disaster for which things are headed is guaranteed to be one of the beautiful variety.

Season 3 lacks a certain narrative drive that the previous two seasons had, as if it’s enough to just hang out and observe these characters without any major new developments. And it mostly is--but still, there’s something missing.

With emotionally resonant dialogue and top-notch performances, This Is Us should fill that Braverman-sized hole in your heart.

As interesting as Bull‘s juror-research aspects are, the actual courtroom scenes are over-the-top, with witnesses arguing with lawyers (and, in one case, assaulting them) from the stand.

It’s an instantly gripping premise (previously mined by Battlestar Galactica), but a tricky one to pull off, and Designated Survivor stumbles a bit in the execution.

It’s almost shameless how quickly Mac plows through the “classics,” including using soot and packing tape to lift a fingerprint, and I’m still unsure of what principle he uses exactly to outwit a biometric scanner. But these quick fixes remain a good part of the fun. ... It deviates from the comparatively “lone wolf” nature of the original, though that’s not necessarily to its detriment; it simply makes it more familiar, CBS procedural-y.

This is all perfectly interesting. It just isn’t... compelling.

NBC’s breezy new comedy The Good Place manages to tackle thorny issues like morality and religion while still delivering the most laughs of any new series this fall. In short, it’s a godsend.

An intense drug deal plays out with character-based nuance, more about the personalities in the room than the chance that guns will start blazing, while an episode set largely in the holding room of a jail finds drama in the assorted, transfixing plights of one-off characters.

After three-and-a-half hours of action, The Get Down‘s tone still seems to be a work in progress--not that there’s anything inherently wrong with a “hey, there’s even a kitchen sink!” melding of genres. The good news is that Ezekiel’s poetry and Mylene’s pipes are so undeniable, you’ll relate to the former’s optimistic English teacher (Treme’s luminous Yolonda Ross).

For those in need of a serialized, compelling storyline, the fact that two episodes in we have no idea what Eliot will be up to on a weekly basis, and only a half of a hint of a whisper about Tyrell’s fate, has to make one wary.

We’ve got multi-animal assaults, a luxury jet that would make S.H.I.E.L.D.’s Zephyr jealous, new characters and a “Phase Two” twist that has upped the stakes, putting one hero in particular in a frightful situation.

The redo--in which Spelling plays the mom of a co-ed who’s fallen for a (gasp!) lesbian (double gasp!) vampire--is still solidly silly and spectacularly cheesy.

While you shouldn’t look for American Gothic to enter the Emmy conversation in the history of ever, that’s simply not the point of it. If, on the other hand, you’re looking for a weird, sometimes eerie distraction that won’t require rewinding if a few lines of dialogue get downed out by the air conditioner, CBS’ newest offering might be a summer series that slays.

It’s hard not to root for the Codys to get busted--or worse. And that seems like it could be a big problem for the series going forward.

BrainDead manages to be intermittently intriguing just through the sheer strangeness of its premise not to mention the sparkling chemistry Winstead exhibits both with Tveit and Semine. And in a different series, Pino’s cheerful, adulterous, win-at-all-costs politico could’ve been downright fascinating. Ultimately, though, like the inside-the-beltway white matter that gets consumed by those little alien critters and winds up turning to pink goo, BrainDead goes splat under the weight of its outsized aspirations.

The hour is stylishly directed by Adam Wingard (V/H/S). But there just isn’t much here that we--or at least I--haven’t seen before.

Perhaps some day Chelsea will inspire a fascinating intellectual discussion about the perils of noisily promising something new on the late-night scene, then delivering the TV equivalent of an ancient burlap grocery sack: a good idea in its infancy, perhaps, but now on the brink of everything imminently falling out of the bottom with a messy splat.

What you need to know going in is that the show is funny, sexy, offbeat-as-hell and, with Sam Catlin (Breaking Bad) as showrunner, divinely dark.

Unfortunately, you won’t need to get past the second commercial break of the pilot episode to realize you’re watching the most banal type of procedural, dressed up in garish period costumes and clogged with faith-versus-science questions that get explored with all the depth and nuance of a political debate on The View.

What’s fascinating--and disappointing--about Confirmation is that we somehow manage to learn more about Hill in the recreation of scenes that are essentially dramatic re-enactments of C-Span clips you can watch right now on YouTube. That leaves about an hour and a half of bloodless storytelling that ping-pongs from law offices to congressional corridors to Thomas’ living room.

As the stakes of their revenge pact rise higher, and their ingenuity and morality get tested against seemingly unbeatable foes, don’t be surprised if you’re less and less bothered by the little fumbles in writing as you get more and more engrossed in the bigger picture.

Unfortunately, The Detour too often confuses the obvious for the outrageous, and mistakes hacky-ness for hilarity.

The Girlfriend Experience proves more interesting than engrossing, perhaps because there doesn’t seem to be a single character willing to raise his or her voice above library-corridor volume, connect in any way that’s not ultimately about money or power, or overtly express the possible negative side effects of selling your body for cash.

Trouble is, there’s not a single surprising twist on any of the threadbare inside-showbiz tropes, and even worse, every single zinger feels like it’s from a hastily assembled first draft.

Ultimately, while Season 5’s opening episodes benefit greatly from Dunham’s decision to unite the ladies, Girls‘ greatest joy remains its Ginsu-like sharpness for skewering its twentysomethings’ misguided sense of self-importance and self-entitlement. Well, that and its guffaw-inducing dialogue.

I’m hoping Superstore lasts long enough that its writers begin to feel less reliant on jokey situations and trust that there’s more than enough organic humor to be found just by letting their characters live in the peculiar, seldom-seen world they’ve created.

The Magicians may not have perfected every incantation in its spellbook, but it’s worth a look for viewers intrigued by the idea of a Harry Potter-esque weekly fantasy series.

Love for the franchise and its characters likely will blunt the momentary ridiculousness for longtime fans (it did for this one), while newcomers should hang in for the second and third hours--because that’s when the series finds its bizarre rhythm.

There are also moments you’ll find yourself wishing Goldberg and Katims had trimmed away some of the less vital elements of their dense tale and cleared a path toward higher stakes and greater suspense. ... Still, The Path benefits greatly from the way it takes us into a murky world and repeatedly makes us question how we feel about its protagonists.

Despite the presence of Krause, Enos and Walger--all of whom have been standouts in modern TV classics--The Catch is barely worth investigating.

All of Alex’s quirks (she has a tendency to spit while talking) and surgical brilliance (practically on a whim, she pulls off a heart transplant procedure that only four others have managed before her) can’t mask the grim fact that she’s ultimately a collection of threadbare drama-series clichés. ... Even worse, the show’s supporting characters are all some combination of bland, unbelievable, and/or reprehensible.

Clad in the silks and satins of 1700s France, Outlander‘s Jamie and Claire Fraser clean up nicely. What a relief, then, that the Starz series does, too, delivering a second season that explores their complicated relationship amid a historical plot with a looming, deadly deadline.

The solid cast, compelling overall storyline and deft twists (Rosalee’s mother is full of surprises) add up to an engrossing, enlightening drama.

Hershey’s commitment to the role is impressive, but it’s not enough to follow Damien into the schlockiest circle of TV hell.

There are a few arcs on The Family that could use a little work. ... Still, those little missteps hardly detract from the thrills and chills of The Family.

The Real O’Neals may be soft and gooey at its center, but it’s the hard, tart outer shell that gives it its unique flavor.

There are a few consistent bright spots, including party-girl Stephanie’s interactions with DJ’s annoying (sorry!) kids; the original series’ now-twentysomething fans will likely identify with her more than any other character.

[A] little bit of bloat hardly slows down a slick production that, while transporting us back in time, stakes Hulu’s claim as a serious streaming player of the future.

Vinyl may hit one or two questionable notes in its first five episodes, but fueled by a beautifully realized sense of place and Cannavale’s certain-to-be-Emmy-nominated performance, it’s definitely worth a spin.

Grease‘s live audience and inconsequential snafus served to underscore its meticulous production and allowed us to get swept up in a joyous and uniformly powerful set of performances.

The People v. O.J. Simpson‘s true feat is its ability to build real suspense using moments burned into our national consciousness.

The show’s supporting players--in particular, D.B. Woodside’s Amenadiel, sent down from Heaven to insist Lucifer go back from where he came, Rachael Harris as Lucifer’s shrink, and Lesley-Ann Brandt as Maze, Lucifer’s ass-kicking assistant--hint at the possibility of a more interesting show (as does a closing twist in “Favorite Son”). Until or unless the show’s writing staff digs down and explore those darker instincts, however, Lucifer feels stuck in creative purgatory.

While it’s not always easy to watch--and can go for long stretches without a real laugh--Baskets elevates itself by showing it’s interested in more than just clowning around.

If you can get past the lack of originality--and lines like “We have to be more pure than the Virgin Mary before her first period”--Billions does offer a nasty but fun escape into a world that brings to life the title of the Notorious B.I.G.’s old hit, “Mo Money, Mo Problems.”

Sure, a couple of subplots--one involving Will and Katie’s teenage son getting involved in a black-market operation, and another hinting at a romance for Katie’s sister (The Mentalist‘s Amanda Righetti)--feel a little extraneous at the moment, but enigmatic glimpses of “Factory” indoctrination promise that Colony won’t run out of ideas anytime soon.

The end result feels like a hideous pastiche of focus-group testing, procedural clichés and CliffsNotes literary references that got pulled out of the incubator about two seasons too early.