This is a drama about a young programmer, Elliot, who suffers from a debilitating anti-social disorder and decides he can only connect to people by hacking them. Elliot finds himself in the intersection between a cybersecurity firm he works for, his hacking exploits at night, and the underworld hacking organization trying to recruit him to help bring down the 1 percent.

A detective experiences parallel lives after he cannot let go due to a horrible car accident.

This hard-hitting and emotional companion series from NBC's "Law & Order" franchise chronicles the life and crimes of the elite Special Victims Unit of the New York Police Department.

Oz is the name on the street for the Oswald State Penitentiary. Our wheelchair-bound narrator Augustus Hill (Harold Perrineau Jr.) takes us through the wacky world of Emerald City, the experimental prison unit started by Tim McManus (Terry Kinney). There's shankin' and lovin' and cussin' and fightin' but in the end, HBO makes a damn fine prison drama. It's gritty. And there you have it.

This sitcom made mild history as the first network program to deal with a multi-generational Asian family (the Korean Kim family) coping with the shifts in attitude between the traditional grandmother, the transitional parents, and the more-or-less all-American grandchildren. Its failure stemmed from its uncertain focus on what it means to be Korean in contemporary California society, including the somewhat objectionable casting of Chinese and Japanese actors as Koreans, and from the treatment of standup comic Cho as a rather stereotypical Valley girl on the prowl for boys, in complete contradiction of her popular image as a tough-talking, upfront lesbian. In the latter episodes there was an attempt to shift the show into a show-biz formula, with Cho's character becoming manager of an inept rock band, but to no avail. There was, however, one superb performance: Amy Hill as the proud-to-be-assimilated, straight-talking Korean grandmother.