As suggested early in "Love, Marilyn" (9 tonight, HBO), actress/cultural icon Marilyn Monroe has been written about, explored, examined, dissected, and probably, exploited many many times.

But this documentary has something different; it has Monroe on Monroe. The film, by director Liz Garbus, uses recently discovered personal papers, letters and diaries by Monroe to let the woman explain her thoughts. The result is a well-done work, one that's both bittersweet and illuminating.

Monroe's words are supported by interviews with some who knew her as well as the words of others, among them Gloria Steinem, Norman Mailer and Truman Capote, all who all wrote about Monroe. Actors perform the Monroe's words (and the writings of the others). Among the participants are Glenn Close, Adrien Brody, Viola Davis, Winston-Salem native Jennifer Ehle, Raleigh native Evan Rachel Wood and sad Marilyn wannabe Lindsay Lohan.

The film takes you though Monroe's life, from her orphaned beginnings to her determined stride to the top to her marriages to Joe DiMaggio and Arthur Miller (who does not look good in this telling). I've read some about Monroe and I can't say I learned a lot that was new. It's more about the shadings her words add to what you might know.

Those words show how thoughtful, intelligent, lonely, insecure, desperate, Monroe was. What was new to me was her shrewdness; like many women, Monroe was taken advantage of by her employers. She was undervalued despite being the studio's biggest star. And so she learned how to work the system, forming a production company that would allow her to do the work she was committed to doing and get the money she deserved.

And that's the value, I think, of this film. It posits Monroe squarely as an artist, a sensitive one who seems to have been ultimately upended by the struggle to control her own destiny, to be treated as the full creative being she wanted to be. It's tough to view this film and not have a new respect for Monroe. After all, she was the creator of the Marilyn Monroe character and that character is still being talked decades later.

The new TNT drama "King & Maxwell" (Monday, 10 p.m.) is the latest in the network's string of ampersand-laden criminal justice-seeking duos: "Rizzoli & Isles," "Franklin & Bash," "South & Land" (okay, that last one is delusional wishful thinking).

This one stars the always likable Jon Tenney, most recently Fitz on "The Closer," as Sean King, and Rebecca Romijn from "X-Men" as Michelle Maxwell. King and Maxwell are both failed Secret Service agents who now make their living as squabbling, wise-cracking private detectives in D.C. (You may recognize the characters from the bestselling crime novels of David Baldacci. Or, if you're me, you may not.)

The show has a decent balance of action and humor (it opens with a car chase -- Maxwell chasing a stolen bus driven by a giant beaver) and at least in the pilot, a more complicated plot than you get (or want) in most of these character-driven basic cable procedurals. The arduous first episode involves murder, far-fetched conspiracies and the sexiest of sexy plot elements -- defense contracts.

And this won't be a shock: King and Maxwell butt heads quite often with two FBI agents who are, of course, total jerks and not nearly as sharp as our breezy detectives. But the show also has Ryan Hurst, known to many as Opie from "Sons of Anarchy," as a sort of savant -- and it looks like he'll be a regular. That's one for the plus column.

I'm not sold based on the pilot, but the chemistry is good enough between Tenney and Romijn that I'll check out at least one more episode before granting it a regular spot in my DVR rotation.

The dean of adventure reality shows is "The Amazing Race" and if you've watched all 22 seasons, you know it's gotten increasingly physical; being in good shape is a key to winning.

Now comes "The Hero," (8 tonight, TNT) an adventure competition reality show that takes that physicality aspect to a whole 'nother level. After all, it's hosted and executive produced by Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson, whose own physicality is on another level.

Here's the setup: The show starts with 9 people; each day they are faced with a team challenge involving 6 members of the team (they get to decide who participates); if they successfully complete that part of the task, three members move onto another part of the task. Of those three, one (based on a team vote) gets to do the 'hero' challenge. That hero challenge adds money to a pot that starts at $250,000. Or not. Because the show aims to be a character test, the 'hero' can either pocket the money without his teammates knowledge or put take the chance of putting it in the pot to bring the total to $1 million. (There are other instances when the cast is quietly tempted to take money.) Viewers cast votes for the ultimate hero, so if a contestant gives the money to the pot and the viewers don't vote for them, they could end up with nothing.

On the first episode, there's rapelling down and across a skyscraper -- they don't say how high it is, but it's high. The hero challenge involves stumbling around in the dark in a tarantula ridden cave. These things are not easy.

Casting is a big part of these shows and the first show reveals some promising characters. There's the mom who immediately starts crying (why is there always a crybaby?) and is also afraid of heights. There's the pro wrestler who seems to have a dark side. There's the young guy whose overzealousness immediately makes him easy to dismiss by the others. There's the pretty girl who was an orphan and so feels she has to be tough all the time.

With its mix of the strategizing and athleticism, "The Hero" also raises questions about its premise. The Rock spends a lot of time defining what a hero is. But "The Hero" shows how much we've broadened the definition. When the scared of heights mom makes it to a rooftop, she's called a hero. Really? OK, she conquered a fear. That's brave. But is it heroism? One contestants questions his fellow contestants heroism, saying that they're just playing to the audience. He might be right and he's got a point. Can you find a hero on reality TV?

Probably not, and although leaving the vote to America takes the decision out of the show's hands, America will be getting a distorted choice.

I know. It's just a reality show. But maybe while it's entertaining us with tough stunts, "'The Hero" will give us something to think about too.

The "inspired by true events" television production is always amusing because it's like saying my blog postings are inspired by Shakespeare. He uses words to communicate and so do I!

"Graceland" (10 tonight, USA) is inspired by an actual beachfront property seized by the government in 1992 and used as an undercover residence for federal agents. Apparently, the person from which it was seized was an Elvis fan. Beyond that, the show is based in the kind of truth only TV drama tells. It's not an awful take on undercover cops, but it's nothing special.

It's an ensemble show, but at the center is Paul Briggs (cutie Daniel Sunjata), as a veteran FBI agent who is a legend and kind of a mystery and a big surfer. New to the house is FBI agent Mike Warren (Aaron Tveit), who is ambitious and a bit of a square. He's also on a secret mission.

There's also Johnny Tuturro (Manny Montana), another FBI guy who's everybody's little brother; Charlie (Vanessa Ferlito) who goes undercover as a drug addict and Dale (Brandon Jay McLaren), an agent with Immigration and Customs.

It's interesting that the USA sent out the pilot, then offered a chance to skip episodes 1-3 with just a quick synopsis at the beginning of episode 4, which the network or the producers think you'll really like. I'll translate: the pilot is pretty ho-hum, save for a twist at the end that makes you think, "hmm, this might get interesting." The synopsis of 1-3 actually had some compelling stuff in it. Episode 4 built on the interesting stuff but, again, didn't blow me away.

Part of the problem is that Sunjata isn't compelling enough to be what I think he's supposed to be: an anti-hero, the dude we aren't sure about. He just seems laid back, a good guy who even if he is shady, we'll forgive him.

Cinematically, "Graceland" is pretty; it takes place mostly on the beachy areas of California and its vivid when it needs to be and dark when it needs to be. This is supposed to be USA's move to a darker kind of show. I've seen the word 'gritty' used. But when you've seen a cop show like "The Shield" or "Southland," this seems awfully devoid of grit.

It's as pretty as Sunjata, but "Graceland" needs to put better stuff (words, stories) around the cast.

It seems to be all about speed these days, blazing speed. And that's why I'm glad "The Killing" (8 tonight, AMC) is back.

The show, starring Mireille Enos and Joel Kinnaman, is slow. Stories unfold. Scenes linger. You can't watch "The Killing" while you're vacuuming or Tweeting. You've got to pay attention or you'll miss something meaningful.

Of course, when it first launched, "The Killing" was bashed for being too slow. Folks wanted the mystery solved in the first season, and angrily tuned out the second season, missing the heartbreaking reveal of the killer. In my view, it was worth the wait.

And because of "The Killing," I had the patience to watch "Top of the Lake" and the patience (although not always the courage) to watch "Rectify." Little did I know there would be a slow TV movement, ushering in shows with the timing and the detail of novels.

Still, because of the backlash, "The Killing" is a little faster this season. With a serial killer at the center of the plot, there are multiple bodies. Linden and Holder start the season with Linden off the force; by the second hour, Linden is drawn back in. (Peter Sarsgaard as a death row inmate, by the way, is disturbingly genius.) And the producers have promised the crime will be solved in 10 episodes.

Yet, thankfully, it's still a slow watch. There are scenes that seem out of place until they resonate powerfully later. A look can still have as much meaning as the language. It's moody and sometimes feels like a dreamscape or some other reality.

So, each Sunday, I'll take a breath, plant myself in front of the TV, demand silence, watch "The Killing" and hope good things really do come to those who wait.

It's no surprise Richard Pryor was the first recipient of the Mark Twain Prize for Humor. The comic is revered by comedians for his profane and searingly honest take on everything -- life, love, his pain, race, gender. My father once told me he saw Pryor live and folks were laughing so hard they were begging him to stop; the audience was choking and gasping for air. To paraphrase one of his album titles, that Negro was crazy!

That aspect of Pryor is evident in "Richard Pryor: Omit the Logic" (9 tonight, Showtime), a documentary on his life, his humor and his career. It's an engaging piece that offers those less familiar with him a good sense of his importance. But it's a mostly surface work that leaves questions for fans.

The film is told through footage -- some never before seen -- plus stories and observations from people who knew and observed him. Among the well-known names are comics George Lopez, Bob Newhart, Richard Belzer, Dave Chappelle, co-writer Paul Mooney; family includes his 4th and 7th wife Jennifer Lee Pryor (who is also an executive producer as Pryor's widow) and Richard Pryor Jr.; and colleagues/friends like Durham native Thom Mount, the former president of Universal Pictures where Pryor made most of his hit films like "Stir Crazy."

What unfolds is the tale of a sensitive boy who grew up in a rough environment, raised by a steel-tough but loving grandmother who was a madam, mother and aunts who were prostitutes, father and uncles who were pimps. When he found his comic identity, that upbringing gave him a lot of good stories and characters to bring to life, a lot of pain to explore and unleash, a lot of damage to overcome and inflict. And apparently, it made him lovable. It's interesting to see how many people, men and women, who loved Pryor and wanted him to win.

But we also get to see how he battled or didn't battle his demons. The film raises the question of whether fame fueled the dark side or just enhanced it. Pryor could be incredibly attractive and madly callous. One anecdote tells of his relationship with actress/goddess Pam Grier, a relationship so serious all his friends thought it was heading toward marriage. Pryor ended that talk, and the relationship, by abruptly marrying someone else, a person unknown to nearly everyone he knew. It makes for a very funny story, but man, is that a cruel thing to do. (Pam Grier isn't in the film to give her thoughts.)

While the film does touch on Pryor's Indigo Film company, a multimillion dollar deal that made him the only African American with a production company at the time, it doesn't get into what exactly went wrong or give a good sense of Pryor's ambitions for the effort. Football star/actor Jim Brown, the company's president, doesn't appear in the film.

It would have been great too, to hear from the exes (only Jennifer Pryor and another early ex appear) on why he was lovable. Six women married him. What was it like?

I wouldn't be surprised to hear that Pryor was a tough man to know. He was clearly complicated; vulnerable on stage, but maybe vulnerable in a different way, off stage. The thing is a film about his life doesn't have to have clear answers about who Pryor was. But it should give it a good try.

You know if you get sick of the singing in a film about June Carter and Johnny Cash, something has gone terribly wrong.

Yet that's how I felt during "Ring of Fire" (9 p.m. Monday, Lifetime), the small screen version of the couple's love and marriage based on the book "Anchored in Love: An Intimate Portrait of June Carter Cash," by their son John Carter Cash.

The film, as the book's title suggests, focuses on June from her beginnings in her family group, through two marriages, her encounter with and deep yearning for Johnny that led to marriage number 3 (and the title hit song), Johnny's substance abuse problems, until her death in 2003.

The biggest problem with the film is that the way I just recounted it is the way the film plays. As in: June is a young girl, some singing; June is older, some singing; June's husband cheats, time for another song; June wants Johnny so she sits down and writes and sings "Ring of Fire"; June and Johnny can finally be together, cue more music. We're left with a list of June Carter's life events rather than insight into her life.

Despite those limitations, singer Jewel, who plays the adult June, is quite good. The gal from Alaska does a solid Southern accent and she's believable. She doesn't have much to work with script wise, but she makes the most of what she has. She plays well with Matt Ross who plays Johnny Cash, who also does a solid job despite a slight characterization. Frances Conroy plays Maybelle Carter; she's always good.

By the way, there's a little hometown connection: Three local kids are in the film. Austin Stack plays a young John Carter Cash, Ellie Dusek plays Carlene Carter, and Sterling Adams plays Rosie.

Tune in to see them, and to hear Jewel sing those great songs. Just don't expect the film to match the genius of the talent it's about.

With his ermine flowing robes, his gaudy jewelry and well, his very being, Liberace was Las Vegas embodied -- over the top, flamboyant, fun. Yet the joy of "Behind the Candelabra" (9 p.m. Sunday, HBO) is that it isn't. Well, it isn't over the top. It's a measured look at the pianist and his life with lover/assistant Scott Thorson, a sad story told with grace, humor and insight.

The film is told from Thorson's perspective. Thorson (Matt Damon) is a foster kid living in L.A. on a ranch with a foster family, estranged from his alcoholic mother. At a bar he meets Bob (Scott Bakula) and they start a relationship. Bob takes him to Vegas and to a Liberace show. Turns out Bob's a friend of the star's and when they go backstage, it's clear "Lee," as Liberace (Michael Douglas) is called by friends, takes an immediate liking to Scott. No matter that he's clearly involved with his onstage partner (Cheyenne Jackson).

It doesn't take long for Liberace to seduce Scott and move him into his mansion. And thus begins a five-year relationship. Relationship is probably the best word, "love" is questionable. It's clear that these are two damaged people. Liberace is at his height and is paranoid; he's afraid of aging, afraid only his fame keeps people near him, and yet constantly use his money to keep people close. Even his mother (Debbie Reynolds) is questionable. You can see Liberace's near desperation to please her. She seems to think she deserves a nice thick slice of his pie.

Thorson insists he's bisexual and he needs Liberace as a father figure as much as a lover. Indeed, he's not really a fully formed person when Liberace takes him in, so it's no wonder he suffocates and then falls apart when Liberace casts him aside.

Douglas is masterful as Liberace. He's not just playing a role; he embodies it. It would be easy to think of Liberace kind of creepy, but Douglas adds more layers. His Liberace can be manipulative, sad, needy, self-absorbed, funny, cruel but never truly mean-spirited. (Not to mention, we're reminded through his performance that Liberace was quite talented.) Damon, too, is great; the emotional journey his character goes through feels real, even as it is, in many ways, singular.

There's a terrific supporting cast. Besides Reynolds and Bakula, there's Dan Aykroyd as Liberace's manager, Tom Papa and Paul Reiser. Most memorable is Rob Lowe as Dr. Jack Startz, a walking, talking example of the kind of Hollywood plastic surgeon that should send you running but whom stars embrace because he'll give you what you want. One might argue that Lowe's portrayal is over the top, but I'm not sure. I'm afraid it might be on point. Either way, it's hysterical and disturbing.

Director Steven Soderbergh, working from a Richard LaGravenese script, takes his time telling the story. He's not so much focusing on us understanding Liberace, but instead understanding the time he lived in, how that time shaped his actions and the consequences. At one point, for instance, Liberace (so deep in the closet, he sues when a tabloid reports he's gay -- and wins) talks about adopting Scott to ensure that he will always be taken care of. It seems odd, of course, that a grown man would adopt another grown man, but then you consider that not only wasn't there gay marriage, there wasn't the thought of gay marriage. That puts the idea of a man adopting his lover in a different light.

"Behind the Candelabra," in simple terms, is the story of two men who find each other, and for a brief while, give each other what they need while living in a world where they can't fully acknowledge their tie. It's their story and our story. Except most of us didn't have the furs, the diamonds and the Rolls Royce.

When I really think about it, there's much more sadness than laughter in Fox's new sitcom "The Goodwin Games," debuting Monday night at 8:30.

The premise of the show pits three disparate and damaged siblings against each other after the death of their father, as the dead dad leads them via video through a series of crazy games to decide which child gets his $23 million inheritance. What gives the show its dark flavor is that we see in flashbacks that this is actually the way he raised the children after the death of their mother -- always in competition and always at odds with each other.

"The Goodwin Games," which comes from the executive producers of "How I Met Your Mother" plus Raleigh native Peyton Reed, has a fine cast. First, there's Scott Foley, a longtime favorite ("Felicity," "Grey's Anatomy" and "Scandal"), and T.J. Miller, who is weird and wonderful in everything I've seen him in (I'm one of the 12 people who loved "Carpoolers" on ABC and Miller was a big reason why). We've also got Becki Newton ("Ugly Betty") and Beau Bridges, who has been showing up more and more lately on television ("Brothers & Sisters," "Franklin and Bash"), as the eccentric, wealth-hoarding dad.

Foley plays an uptight, overachieving doctor with a bit of a drinking problem, while Newton plays an underachieving, aspiring actress. Miller is a sweet but untrustworthy doofus (of course), just released from the latest of several stints in prison. And they don't seem to like each other at all. They're not only different in almost every way, they're openly suspicious and hostile toward each other (thanks, dad!).

The whole point of the competition for the cash doesn't seem to be for the father's perverse, posthumous enjoyment (although I'm still unclear after watching the pilot as to why he chose to raise them in this way -- pitting small children against each other for basic rewards for which the losers would be deprived). The sentimental vibe at the end of the pilot suggests the father's ulterior motive is to force the estranged siblings back together so that they will reconnect and become closer. Perhaps as his way of apologizing for so thoroughly screwing them up in the first place.

And I'm not sure how to gauge Fox's commitment to this sitcom, since they've waited to debut it after the season finales of all their other sitcoms have aired, and they're sticking it in the middle of a bunch of repeats Monday.

It's always tricky trying to judge a series by a single pilot episode (the episode is available free online until Monday, so you can go ahead and judge for yourself), but it didn't work for me. I love dark humor and I love bittersweet anything. But so far, I'm just getting "The Goodwin Games."

Before there were celebrity designers (and celebrities who wanted to be designers), there was Betsey Johnson. The punk-rock, crinoline petticoat wearing, handstand performing kookster makes clothes that make you smile -- joyous and girly.

She's still well-known and beloved but at 70, she's certainly past her prime. That would seem to suggest "XOX Betsey Johnson" (8 tonight, Style network) is a show past its shelf life. But in 2012, Johnson's company filed for bankruptcy. Good friend shoe king Steve Madden paid her debt and now Johnson is the creative director of what will be a mostly online Betsey entity.

So the reality show chronicles the Betsey comeback. And there's more: we learn about Betsey's relationship with her daughter Lulu, who worked with her designer mom for 13 years. She dropped out to raise her daughters. Now after a painful divorce, Lulu is ready to work again and launching her own line.

She's also trying to put some space between her and her mom. The two have a Joan and Melissa Rivers-type relationship, which is to say mothering can turn into smothering. They live in the same building down the hall from one another; Betsey often just strolls into the apartment unannounced. This has caused some issues. Betsey and Lulu actually attend couples therapy.

Betsey is the show; she's made for reality TV. She's a 70 year old who flirts with men half her age, she's bursting with creativity, she brings a water bottle filled with mimosa to her workout session. Watching Lulu build her business gives an inside view of what it takes to create a fashion line. And just about anyone who has a mother will relate to some aspect of the mother-daughter dynamic on the show.

"XOX Betsey Johnson" doesn't break new ground, but you can't help root for Betsey. Her love of life is contagious.