American Woman

Pointing out that there’s nothing particularly original or groundbreaking here, notwithstanding its real-life roots, is not to deny the series' pleasures, from its performances to its production design--and what, after all, is less original than real life?

Suvari and Bartels are competent, but don’t have a lot to do in the early episodes. The scripts hit every beat you might expect. “American Woman” makes “Sex and the City” look timeless.

Imagine a Don Draper-less, bland, unsurprising sequel to “Mad Men” and “American Woman” comes pretty close. All the plot twists are telegraphed.

What's most instantly striking about American Woman, then, is how utterly lacking it is in a defined and distinctive voice.

Silverstone, charming and bubbly as ever, seems miscast as a trophy wife, a disconnect that ends up serving the show; her eventual freedom seems as though it were meant to be. But who is she? So consumed with positioning her in a fleeting historical moment, American Woman doesn’t bother finding out.

American Woman means well but just can't figure out what show it's trying to be, which makes it a good fit for the equally identity-free Paramount Network.

A sadly thin, tonally inconsistent series that’s unsuccessful as a comedy, off-putting as a drama, middling as a period piece and far too shallow to be anything resembling social commentary.