Franklin & Bash

It's a lawyer show with no aspirations to examine the legal universe. If it has any antecedent, it would be "My Cousin Vinny." So it's wise not to try to parse the nuances too closely here. Better to enjoy a steady stream of pop-culture banter and an attitude reminiscent of sophomore year in college.

TNT bills Franklin & Bash as a dramedy, but it is more accurately a comedic bromance laced with pop-culture jokes and a dash of legal jargon to trick you into thinking you spent an hour on something of substance.

The emphasis on the Animal House-style antics over the actual case of the week isn't the problem; it's that the shenanigans are a little too "bro" for their own good.

Franklin & Bash has some of the ingredients of perfectly adequate summer filler: it's handsomely shot; the writing, line by line, is as good as or better than that of most of the cable competition; and there are appealing actors like Malcolm McDowell, Reed Diamond and Ms. Davis in supporting roles. The problem is that Franklin and Bash themselves are resolutely uninteresting.

The only thing connecting how Franklin and Bash act inside and outside the courtroom is a general willingness to wing it and hope for the best. But they're not as charming as the show thinks they are, and their triumphs don't seem so great.

F&B will rise or fall almost entirely on the basis of how likable you find Gosselaar and Meyer, not to mention the wisecrack-stuffed dialogue.

Breckin Meyer and Mark-Paul Gosselaar go the buddy-comedy route in Franklin & Bash, a new lawyer show the network's calling an "offbeat drama"--though it's hard to think of something whose beats are this predictable as off-anything.

Your enjoyment of Franklin & Bash may depend on your tolerance for frat-boy antics and smarmy whimsy.

The problem is that the cases that the lead duo take on aren't offbeat enough, and Gosselaar's appealing qualities aren't enough to make up for Franklin & Bash's other shortcomings.