My Boys

My Boys has easygoing charm and does feel like the amiably shaggy, hit-and-miss basic-cable cousin of a glossy network one-liner factory, its lack of laugh-out-loud moments not so much indicating system failure, but suggesting a game plan that aims for calmly assembling a group of occasionally witty characters and hoping you find them likable.

My Boys can overdo the voiceover sports metaphors, but at least it's agreeable.

Breezy, smart and occasionally funny.

Even when "My Boys" isn't wildly funny (which would be most of the time, frankly), it has a lot of charm.

The wit can get a little heavyhanded sometimes - yes, it's another series with voiceover narration (can anybody say "Sex and the City"?) - but its heart, and head, are in the right place.

While there's nothing groundbreaking happening in "My Boys," there is something a bit fresher than we saw in any of the many "Sex and the City" wannabes that popped up a few seasons ago.

"My Boys"... has development potential if you can get past the notion that it's been done to death.

"My Boys" is no improv comedy, but it also relies on unnecessary narration.

"My Boys" is the kind of show that you're unlikely to seek out -- it's not TiVo-worthy by any means -- but if you happen upon it while channel-surfing, you could do a lot worse than pause and give it a shot.

Spiro is not really charismatic enough to carry a show, but the real problem is that P.J. isn’t going to make anyone forget Carrie Bradshaw any time soon.

"My Boys" suffers from an unrealistic setup, and too many scenes amount to five people sitting around talking.