There is enough going on in The Slap without the addition of the narration, which is reminiscent of the voice over on Pushing Daisies and sounds like it's describing a comedy. Get rid of that smug, knowing narrator, The Slap can speak for itself.

It's punchy, violent, and darkly funny.

The New Look lags and drags. It takes far too long to get its points across. When it finally does, it does so with not enough conviction. Instead of focusing on the fashion, which is in the title (The New Look was the name of Dior’s first collection when he set up his own house), the 10-episode series keeps forgetting what it’s about and reverts to being a Holocaust story.

Overall, not a minute is wasted with key information packed into every frame, each minuscule element filling in another piece of these multilayered and intersecting stories, guided by a cast that grasps and leans into the complexity of its setting. Were it not for Portman dragging the series down, it would be a must-watch. As it stands, skip the sixth episode altogether and the rest fits together a lot better.

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.

To give the second season of The Morning Show something, anything, to propel it forward, there are a variety of soapy dramas, many of them pinned to the new characters. These cobbled together histrionic dramatics are offensive compared to the gravity of the issues of the first season. Even combined, the desperate scrambles of the second season don’t have enough bite, or credibility, for the viewer to invest in.

While the series has kinks to work out, the prospect of another season (or more) detailing what the members did afterwards would be fascinating to watch and perhaps less cartoon-ish than aspects of Season One that have been documented ad nauseam.

[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.

Seeing Mulder and Scully back together is enough to maintain interest, even if The X-Files starts diving into political themes that are a little unnerving.

Norton's stony glare, and a supporting cast rarely rising above one-line descriptions don't sink proceedings. Even if this is just The Night Manager cross-pollinated with The Godfather, it produces a decent hybrid.

The big, heartfelt, Dangerous Minds style lines that are geared at squeezing out tears are so cheesy, predictable, and trite, they cause eye-rolls instead.

Charlotte and Jonah don't get enough screen time, which is the shame as they are the main reasons to tune into Ozark, which is otherwise not worth the commitment.

The main storyline isn't strong enough and the incongruous peripheral elements just confuse rather than engage the viewer.

It's cheeky and lighthearted escapism perfect for unwinding on a Tuesday night.

Nothing groundbreaking, but every so often a sports-themed show is de rigueur

The problem is, it's nothing we haven't seen already in The Office, or countless other romantic comedies. It's forgivable, though, as Hello Ladies doesn't give up on the self-deprecating scenery.

Palm Royale is so gorgeous to look at, the story is almost secondary. Funny and frothy, Palm Royale is an indulgent watch not unlike gorging on colorful and beautifully decorated pastries.

When these murders took place in real life, they shook the world with horror and disbelief. Those feelings are reignited with the deliciously morbid quality of The Menendez Murders, literally like a slow motion retroactive murder you can't take your eyes off.

Scream is a deferential adaptation well aware of its source material's strengths. It uses them to its advantage, fully embracing them for a result that, while never quite as salacious as the first film, is a more than worthy entry into Scream lore.

A wonky framing device, where Moynihan fills in gaps in the storylines directly to the audience, is given no explanation as to why it's even there, or who he's talking to; you're left to suspect that the writers couldn't figure out a more organic way to clue viewers in on why these scenes are being show to them.

The past is suddenly malleable. This removes all the stakes, but also downgrades 12 Monkeys from fatalistic sci-fi dystopia to a predictable genre piece. Not horrible by SyFy, or even cable thriller standards, but still disappointing.

Meadows was the one minor bright spot as the self-emasculating and self-deprecating therapist. Hines' allusions to a wild, coked-up past, Zorn's workplace woes, Pemberton's teen angst-these were all well-treaded tropes, and likely a missed opportunity for something more clever.

Where Stewart is the show's greatest strength, there is very little else to grasp onto. The situations are good for a few awkward giggles, but ultimately Blunt Talk misses the mark on the bigger picture.

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.

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.

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.

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 nutty parents in Growing Up Fisher do a good job of playing their extreme characters, instinctually making their eccentricities acceptable and funny rather than far-fetched and excessive. In contrast, the Growing Up Fisher children are so grounded and adult, but play that off with a world-weary-ness that is engaging.