The episode is highly watchable when West is hanging out with his friends, professing his love for Chicago or delivering incredibly catchy freestyles. In the moments between these ones, however, jeen-yuhs feels a little bit lost.

The Trophy Wife characters are well developed and the actors very natural in their roles. The kids are brilliant--particularly Tsai.

The cast comes across as natural, even in their stereotypical roles. The dialogue is similarly fluid and representative of the kind of conversations that would happen in these circumstances.

Other than a few other corny ideas (the whole Presidential assassination trope is a little cliché), Hostages delivers a compelling plot with enough tension to keep viewers interested for 45 minutes.

The concept is predictable, but not tired. The cast is relatable, and the dilemmas are thought-provoking without being heavy-handed.

Duntsch’s story would be tough to stitch up in even the steadiest of auteur’s hands. Hats off to Macmanus and directors Maggie Kiley, Jennifer Morrison and So Yong Kim for their ambitious vision, not to mention the ace cast. At the same time, it’s a shame that Dr. Death is too often so dull.

"Meta" is the word used most to describe this strange take on a reboot, which in its very weirdness will have viewers—all of whom will be those that watched the original series when it aired in real-time, none of whom will be fans that aren't the ages of the actors/characters as it will make absolutely no sense to them.

Shangri-La is not an advertisement for the studio, nor is it a biography on Rubin. It touches on the history of the space, which was built in 1976, featuring some classic footage with Scorsese and The Band, and the titular character for the television show Mr. Ed, who lived in a stable at Shangri-La when on hiatus.

[Mia McKenna-Bruce as Jane is] a performance that anchors the series. By contrast, Natalie Dormer, as Sarah, never quite lands. .... The detectives, however, feel underwritten; their investigative work is so thinly drawn that the conviction itself strains credibility. Despite all this—or perhaps because of it—The Lady remains a frothy, distinctly British watch.

Under this gorgeous dressing, The Knick feels curiously hollow.

Starstruck gets off to a dull start, then becomes predictable and uninteresting. But, as the episodes progress, Matefeo rediscovers the instinctive humor that made the first season such a delight.

Season Two of Betty feels like watching an identity crisis unfold. Not necessarily trying to figure out what kind of show it wants to be, or what story it wants to tell, but rather, how exactly to tell that story.

It is hard to find a suitable middle ground, when neither protagonist wants to implicate him/herself. That--this puzzle of what really happened--might be the genius of the show, but it's also frequently its great frustration. If audiences aren't fully engaged while watching Noah's point of view, then having to rewatch everything a second time around from Alison's perspective will be painful.

This narrative of bad people who want to feel human, whose flaws are both embedded into their DNA and yet crippling, has gone stale. In the context of a crime show, the gimmick ages rapidly.

Heigl's serviceable, and the show's writing is fun enough that, as long as audiences don't expect the next great political thriller, State of Affairs could be a worthwhile way to spend the concluding hours of a Monday night.

Neither particularly bad nor stellar, Madoff is a mildly entertaining, though far from impressive, miniseries with oversimplified depictions of white-collar thieves, bumbling to the point of cartoonish financial analysts, and fraud run rampant.

And Just Like That… addresses these issues [death, alcoholism, racism, sexual identity] with a lot more respect bringing a deserved weightiness to the matters, which are explored over the course of the 10 episodes and not resolved in under half an hour—love. The overarching cringing “wokeness” of it all—hate.

Meyers' Dracula is in line with the seductive, brooding bloodsuckers we've become used to lately, sipping fine whiskey as often as he does blood. The pilot moves very slowly, but the production values are outstanding.

It's hard to fall in love with a world that feels...borrowed.

While Nine Perfect Strangers may be a serviceable popcorn binge, it’s difficult to imagine that the series will leave any sort of long-lasting impression on its audience.

The confusion of this multi-genre series and its far-fetched ending is only justified by Bell and her imminent watchability, which works no matter who she is portraying or how shabby the material she’s working with is. ... An empty calorie binge.

The Bastard Executioner suffers from inconsistent pacing. At times meandering or sluggish, it then changes gears, rapidly springing a gory, adrenaline-infused battle seemingly out of nowhere.

Brown does a decent job with what she’s given. But when her character’s name is the title, it’s around Queenie that everything revolves and with a weak central figure, that’s too much time is spent on her.

Parish should be off to the races, but, sadly, too often it stalls out.

Amanda Seyfried gamely does her best, and at times she succeeds in capturing Holmes’ mannerisms and deranged energy.

More risk-taking with the jokes and stepping up to the comedy from the rest of the cast and the show might eventually become something--and that's only if they can come up with enough stories for what is essentially a thin, workplace/home life crossover sitcom.

There’s a lot of squandered potential here. The lack of focus on the customers is an easy win missed. And while the lack of a “big bad” may be refreshing but means the show lacks any sense of real peril or urgency. By the halfway mark we lose sight of the driving force of the show and slip into soapy silliness.

The set-up sounds promising except the overwhelming apologetic tone that blankets every single exchange stops Ten Percent from developing any kind of edge.