Superstore

It’s better than an unadvertised special and more fun than a deep discount on Black Friday.

Superstore is a product of “The Office” co-executive producer Justin Spitzer, and like that already classic show, it digs into the mundane indignities of the work experience for its laughs, right down to the company magazine that blasts “Minimum Wage is Maximum Fun.”

[Justin Spitzer] keeps things fairly silly but does show a willingness to explore that most vexing of 21st-century problems: What is appropriate on-the-job behavior.

The show could certainly stand to find some more rhythm to its comedy, as it hammers out the right tone for the tricky comedy of minimum-wage Middle America. It’s neither the wildly confident (and brilliant) “Carmichael Show” nor the wildly predictable (and bad) “Undateable,” both on the same network. But even its raw edges and sticking points are appealing.

The first four episodes are alternately warm and witty, but what's most exciting about Superstore is its potential for unabashed weirdness somewhere down the line.

Ensembles rarely jell instantly and the first four installments of Superstore show encouraging progress.

The “Superstore”-“Telenovela” combo not only strikes a blow for diversity by presenting two shows with Latina leads (Eva Longoria headlining the other), but actually delivers some laughs in the process. And even if they’re not actually quite as cute as a panda, for NBC, that’s still pretty, pretty good.

This big-box comedy is stocked full of broad and easy laughs familiar though they may be.

If it doesn’t yet come close to the comedic heights of its predecessors [The Office or Parks and Recreations] there are some good finds in its aisles.

I’m hoping Superstore lasts long enough that its writers begin to feel less reliant on jokey situations and trust that there’s more than enough organic humor to be found just by letting their characters live in the peculiar, seldom-seen world they’ve created.

The commercials are funny, but they also have the effect of reducing a charismatic cast to little more than the grinning faces next to dubious deals like trick-or-treating knockoffs and Halloween merchandise repurposed for Thanksgiving.

Like a lot of startups in their early days, Superstore launches as a buggy enterprise.

The sense that everything you see, and every joke you hear, is being recycled--making this less a superstore than a consignment shop. The merchandise isn't terrible; some of it is even fairly nice. It's just that after so many hand-me-downs, you were hoping for something new.

Not terrible, not without charm, not a bad cast (in fact, a pretty good cast).... As a consequence, not particularly funny or memorable either.

Created by writer Justin Spitzer, Superstore has its funny moments as it alternately mocks People of Wal-Mart types while trying to protect the dignity of the store’s employees. It’s difficult for the show to have it both ways. Superstore is at its funniest when it’s also at its most ruthless and offensive, but those moments are few.

It's a bit of a frustrating mixed bag, Superstore, on which I blow hot and cold from scene to scene. The cast is strong.... but it also feels unfocused and unformed.

Spitzer doesn’t fully explore the show’s potential, but the important thing is that “Superstore” has potential.

Superstore improves somewhat, or at least becomes faster-paced, in two more episodes provided for preview, including one that will air second Monday night. It also becomes cruder and more outright bizarre, which is probably a promising sign. In the early going, though, it isn't quite as funny as something you'd see in a real big-box store in St. Louis any given weekend.

Superstore is an unimaginative, run-of-the-mill network affair full of stock characters, flat dialogue, and too many poop references.

Slapsticky and hollowed-out.