Sunday, January 1 1995
As unfair as it may seem, a wealthy, handsome single architect with a commitment to monogamy and an Irish accent simply would not have that much trouble getting a girlfriend. Hell, 'I'd' date him.
What's puzzling is why they didn't just call the thing 'Cosmo Kramer, P.I.' That's what audiences wanted, and that's essentially what the show turns out to be.
In much the same way that the Conners of 'Roseanne' exploded the myth of the unified, dad-centered sitcom family, the Wilkersons are a unit in which the siblings really do try to kill each other and the parents maintain control through guerilla strategy rather than homespun aphorisms -- just like real families. Radical notion, that.
Because Goren's intellect and intuition never fail, Criminal Intent's narratives never consider the presumption of innocence as a legal (or dramatic) standard.
Part of the problem is that the 'Law & Order: Special Victims Unit' writers haven't given Ice T much to do: he's Munch's Yes Man, and it doesn't become him.
It's difficult to believe that six people can be so self-absorbed and shortsighted, let alone gathered in the same workplace.
Though 'Law & Order' frequently, and most chillingly, tells tales of true crime -- the monstrous pit bull is the most recent example -- it also treats them with the dread, indeed, the disgust they deserve.
Lost survives because its mix of fantasy and mystery, character development and plot twists, predictability and sharp twists -- in short, its mix of cleverness and crap -- is like nothing else on TV.
Lucky Louie's preoccupation with the prurient threatens to turn a promising spin on the sitcom into a one-note novelty.