Dennis Perkins

As with most work-related premises, there’s undoubtedly a good sitcom lurking at the DMV. .... But the glimmers of invention (the driving testers keep track of the number of days since they were almost killed on a whiteboard) are so meager here that this DMV feels as perfunctory and forgettable as re-registering your car.

Eyes Of Wakanda is a thought-provoking, entertaining glimpse past Wakanda’s curtain. And its four brisk episodes are the right lengths for what is largely an exercise in retroactive world-building.

Vikings: Valhalla is a crisp and often very entertaining re-skinning of the Vikings franchise that could use a little more of Vikings’ often messy ambition.

Like a comedy club roster overstuffed with comics of varying skills and styles, the docuseries never settles into the groove of a single tour de force set. The stories are great. ... But The Comedy Store never finds a way to tie all these individuals and their stories into a cohesive portrait. ... Binder’s undeniably watchable series sets out to craft monuments to a place and a woman he reveres equally.

The special’s true value as a showcase for a handful of terrifically shaded performances gradually emerges through the occasional overwritten staginess. Still, the relentless march of five separate monologues all about the maddeningly implacable evils each character faces in this America of COVID and Trump is, as stated, a lot to take in in one sitting.

The episode manages to give us just enough of what we want in the way of catchup, while managing to, with a minimum of observable effort, deliver a very Leslie Knope-esque message about what do to when things seem the bleakest. With such a breakneck pace of pop-ins and jokes, it’s hard not to spoil the enjoyment in the telling, but everybody’s doing about as you’d have expected when the show left them.

End Times Fun is punctuated throughout with Maron’s heavy sigh and echoing refrains along the lines of “I just don’t know any more.” Luckily, Maron’s got a sly showmanship to his curmudgeon’s laments that stubbornly refuses to let his 71-minute set lapse into the tedium of the bitter old guy on the bus.

Alive From New York runs only 49 minutes, but it still feels both as thin and padded as the marginally spiffed-up Davidson in his T-shirt, suit jacket, too-short dress pants, and sneakers.

In these first three episodes, it’s clear that Klepper is still finding his feet, even if the latter two make the convincing case that he’s actually joined the fight for real.

Conan remains peerless at the art of mock-shtick, his mid-monologue mugging to the new set’s camera angles playing irresistibly like he’s photobombing himself. ... Even if this first foray into the half-hour format isn’t a form-busting revelation right out of the gate, it hints at the possibilities of a reenergized comic mind prodding the late-night electric fence for weaknesses.