Some interesting conversation does seep through, though, as part of what the host terms "the universal language of women."

A decidedly bland and tedious weekly series in which couples attempt to mend their frayed relationships by doing it for a full week.

In the annals of all-time worst game shows, this one takes its rightful place alongside ABC's Conveyor Belt of Love, which soiled prime-time back in January 2010.

On the surface at least, it's hard to imagine responding to CW's three-pronged tagline attack of "Small fish. Big pond. Huge dreams." Wonder of wonders, though, this series sells its premise while only occasionally trying way too hard.

Veep has some funny lines and sight gags during the course of doing its dirty Washington business.

It's a distinctive, signature series from a decidedly singular voice.

In short, nothing really jumps off the screen here.

Principally armed with Ritter and Van Der Beek, [series' creator/executive producer/writer, Nahnatchka Khan] makes Don't Trust the B a find if not a treasure just yet.

Client List ends up being easy on the eyes, harder on the ears and likely destined to become a bell-ringer in the ratings for a network that needs another hit scripted series other than Army Wives.

So far this is solid and very picturesque entertainment, with a strong sense of foreboding built in.

Over the top? Yeah. Closer to the truth of the matter? That, too.

Watching BFF leaves only a dull, but throbbing headache.

For now, The Killing has made a very good re-start.

It's all a lot to swallow, let alone digest. But Game of Thrones nonetheless is an undertaking worth applauding for its audacity if not always for its overall senses of direction or cohesion.

As a fan from the start, I didn't love it, but liked it well enough.

Viewers in a sense are going to another carnival freak show.

Bent ends up being worth watching for the recurring grins it provides. Just don't expect to ever know what happens to any of its main characters.

Missing's clue unraveling is barely believable when it's not simply preposterous.

This possibly could work, and isn't entirely unwatchable.

In the end, fans of well-paced political potboilers will find much to like about Game Change. As will those who simply want to be entertained by a crackling good melodrama.

There are signs of improvement, though, even if Mullally tends to over-do it in the "brash and bold" department while holdover Christian Slater remains in place as the downgraded former head dude known only as Oz.

Broader than Dallas at its broadest, ABC's GCB won't be selling smart, stylized urban sophistication when it premieres Sunday night.

It packs some punch, though. And Isaacs certainly doesn't sleepwalker through a decidedly distinctive role.

Life's Too Short is an acquired taste worth acquiring.

Comic Book Men is a pleasant surprise and an overall splash of fragrant cologne on the smell test-flunking reality genre.

The River in comparison seems like stale tap water, unworthy of any prolonged big drink of time or effort.

The real joys of Smash are its performances and production numbers, some fantasized, others part of the bare bones auditioning process.

You should give Luck a chance to slowly pay off. It proudly depicts a gritty/picturesque world that the ABC Family channel's Wildfire only airbrushed during its 2005-08 run.

Its spirit is willing, but the construction has foundation problems.

Unsupervised might induce at least a small handful of smiles per episode. But only if its mood strikes you.

For now, though, this is a series that's seemingly built on an arresting foundation.

Lines like ""Did you feel that? It was like the Fourth of July in my mouth." help to make Lost Girl see-worthy without taking it to the level of must-see.

It's far funnier than Fox's two still relatively new animated series, Bob's Burgers and Allen Gregory. Mickey Mouse it's not, though.

There are lots of swings and misses amid the direct hits. And that's pretty much the way it is with Rob.

All in all, this is a light-hearted series that also looks as though it's going to be light-headed in terms of basic story construction.

Everything in Chelsea seems painfully forced.

Angry Boys showcases his considerable talents in the notably imperfect world he's created.

It's all quite sturdily built and well-acted, with characters one cares about.

House of Lies' excesses tend to be counter-balanced by its overall look and feel. The production values are first-rate and the storytelling is crisp.

Koldyke isn't lacking in effort or enthusiasm when it comes to getting all dressed up. That's not nearly enough to hold this thing together, though.

The game itself gets bogged down with a succession of gratingly easy questions that turn Round 1 into a rather boring marathon.

Method to the Madness is adroitly packaged and probably not all that less less flattering than a PBS American Masters portrait might have been.

It's a genuinely chilling four-hour adaptation of the tireless horror-meister's 1998 bestseller.

The bedeviled moms can be bawdy fun on occasion in this broad Fox sitcom. But their unctuous, obnoxious 14-year-olds basically ruin every scene they're in.

Its hip replacement is a cast that's been around the block and knows how to act accordingly.

Vietnam In HD is vivid and compelling without being intrinsically political.

Hell on Wheels is a big and ambitious stab at the genre, with a lot going on and much to recommend.

Maybe the content also will rise to the level of the art deco-ish visuals. But the opening episode has an overall creepy feel to it, paced of course by a seven-year-old's carnal longings for his gruff sexagenerian principal.

Grimm is buoyed by some decent special effects and snarky wolfman Monroe, who will be a series regular. But it's not nearly as imaginative, involving or picturesque as ABC's fairy tale offering, Once Upon A Time.

Fans of the fantastical can do far worse than Once Upon A Time, which manages to both stir the pulse and please the senses with its beautifully imagined medieval times.

Grammer's performance is thoroughly engaging and convincing. And the events swirling around him never fail to snap, crackle and pop.

The whole enterprise seems way too wobbly to walk upright under its own power.

Sing Your Song ends up being more than a little too self-indulgent and one-noted. Abundant archival footage is in part a saving grace, though.

Season 2 so far is still a watchable feast of decayed human flesh and frayed nerve endings.

Allen's mere presence may keep it in business for a while. But it already seems as though it belongs on TV Land, where Home Improvement repeats already reside.

It's HBO's most mature half-hour series ever, rising above the material worlds of Sex and the City and Entourage to offer a road worth taking in pursuit of a "higher self."

Living in the Material World falls short of Scorsese's terrific two-part PBS film, No Direction Home: Bob Dylan.

It's a lot to process, and at times too much to take. Still, Horror Story often is a wonder.

In the end, it may be the most fun you'll ever have with a Ken Burns film.

Dexter likewise remains in solid shape, with new characters generating some additional heat while its namesake keeps plying his trade.

It's compelling, enthralling and steeped in current realities.

This is a comedy with a solid core group of characters and a chance to go the distance.

For now, Levy is an OK mix of insolence and vulnerability, Hines is her usual hoot and Sisto shows signs of being nimble on his feet in an arena where he's still learning the ropes.

It goes down pretty easy if you'd like to set down for a spell with a disarmingly pleasant little down-home melodrama.

Terra Nova certainly doesn't lack ambition and scope, which is a plus. But its first two hours fall short in the storytelling department.

Beyond selling the glamour of it all, Pan Am may be very hard-pressed to come up with weekly storylines that impel viewers to climb aboard.

A Gifted Man won't kill any brain cells if you want to give it a try. But it's not all there yet with an unwieldy mix that also includes two life-threatening cases, a few scenes with Michael's frazzled sister, Christina (Julie Benz) and her problematic teen son and an attempted exorcism of sorts by a mystic named Anton (Pablo Schreiber).

It leads off the network's Thursday prime-time schedule, with the action originating in Miami and the scripts apparently bought from Godawful, Inc.

The best new crime drama of the fall season doesn't necessarily have to be an original idea. It just has to have the right people in place.

Together they'll be the brains and brawn of this operation in times when the broadcast networks aren't particularly interested in take-charge men with acquired tastes for pounding the hell out of bad guys--or shooting them in their thighs. Thanks. We maybe needed that.

It all makes for a promising start on a network whose best comedies invariably wind up on Thursday nights. Whitney is already there, and looks as though it just might belong.

Sometimes you just want a single serving, with the table cleared by episode's end. This one keeps passing its spinning plates while re-stating the obvious.

It's not a great series, but it looks to be a solidly commercial one.

Fox seems to be on the right track, though, with a lead character who has ample potential to gawkily bloom and grow.

I liked this first episode better the first time around. Upon further review, its excesses and kitchen sink humor aren't wearing as well.

Subtract its clunky dialogue, ludicrous plot devices and empowerment nonsense, and you're left with its heightened sense of pulchritude.

Secret Circle, replete with The CW's usual heavy doses of sappy pop music mood-ruiners, eventually gets around to outlining its basic plot point.

It's Celebrity Rehab in open spaces with drinking allowed. And during an extremely weak moment, your friendly content provider is going to admit that this steaming pile turns out to be guilty pleasure-approved, even if it's almost assuredly all an act on the part of everyone.

Despite its lead characters' fragile makeups, Free Agents is a niftily scripted, bracingly grownup comedy when in the hands of its two leads.

Tuesday's premiere certainly has enough intrigue for starters. What it needs is more overall electricity.

A cute little closing segment isn't enough to offset all the forced comedy preceding it.

Some people take these things very seriously. But seriously, the stories told on Paranormal Witness are about as believable as an Oscar nomination for Dolph Lundgren. Although that would be scary.

The end result is funny in spots, overly gross in others and upbeat in Rescue Me's typically offbeat fashion.

Kurt Sutter, SOA's creative mastermind, has kept the scripts tight and the action invigorating.

Viewers craving a satisfying gourmet meal rather than another summertime "reality" Moon Pie are urged to make The Hour a Wednesday night ritual for the next six weeks.

Is it all a hoot to watch? Definitely, but probably not intentionally so.

It all comes out pretty well in the wash. Same Name gets fairly close to sealing the deal on the idea that celebs can learn something from just plain folks.

Entourage looks as though it still has enough juice--comedy, drama and Drama-wise--to make its last season a keeper.

The 90-minute HBO documentary, one of the very best in a long line of standouts, is in no way a pity party for Flood.

Roseanne's Nuts is her way of taking a dump in your living room.

Alphas looks fairly good on paper, but never catches fire. And its use of Strathairn is even more of a fizzle.

A summertime winner here on the strength of strong acting, engaging writing and an immediately gripping premise.

Thorne's performance occasionally threatens to rise above this mess. But it's tough to overcome a narrative opening line that goes like this: "My dad used to say life is like a football game. There's winners and there's losers."

This is, however, one of those shows that a viewer easily can love to hate. And in that context, Love in the Wild is very well equipped to both go the distance and even be invited back next summer.

Not everything is letter-perfect about The Big C. But Linney sure is--and that's more than enough.

The thrill of discovery is long gone for True Blood. But the thrill of a new season is still very much in play. The first three episode of Season 4 had just enough pulling power to keep me in the fold.

101 Ways, despite some of its explosive ejections, is gratingly slow-paced and infested by commercial breaks just before host Sutphen reveals who's next to be axed.