Must-See Dustup, Part 2

When CBS pitted its irresistible force (Survivor) against NBC's immovable object (Friends), the Thursday-night collision threatened the very fabric of the space-time continuum. For now, VCR-equipped viewers have found room for both near the top of the ratings. Still, for the first time in years, NBC's slogan, "Must-See TV," no longer sounds like a binding command. Airing after Survivor, CBS's CSI catapulted from No. 19 to No. 4 in the ratings in its first week in the new time slot.

This week CBS takes the battle to the biggest target of all. ER is America's reigning No. 1 series, but partly by default: it has had little competition for years, except weak newsmagazines. And lately it has become prime-time's biggest, albeit best-loved, piece of deadwood, relying on stunt casting, gunshots in the corridors, tearjerking storylines and ever-more-Job-like afflictions for its long-suffering staff. With Anthony Edwards announcing his departure in 2002, the writers have more than a year to slowly and mawkishly kill his Dr. Mark Greene with that brain tumor. ER isn't in mortal danger (CBS says it would be content to pick up a few ratings points), but consider this CBS's chance to do good for the ER-weary by doing well for its own schedule.

CBS's chosen alternative is Big Apple, produced by David Milch, creator of that other seminal '90s drama, NYPD Blue. The premise: the FBI's New York City office is investigating the Russian mob (and perhaps persons much higher) when it runs into a snag--dogged N.Y.P.D. cop Mike Mooney (Ed O'Neill, who almost makes you forget he's Al Bundy and the 1-800-COLLECT guy). When Mooney, looking into a stripper's murder, steps on the FBI's case, the bureau folds him and his partner into its team. But the two cops find themselves steered wrong by the feds, who are in turn steered wrong by an enigmatic informant (Michael Madsen).

At first glance Big Apple is in the tradition of CBS policiers about morally conflicted cops and feds (at best, EZ Streets and Wiseguy; at worst, Falcone). But the series' NYPD Blue lineage becomes clear when those trademark, mannered Milchisms start flying ("Speaks well of you, the address comes so quickly to mind," Mooney says when his partner recognizes the location of a strip club).

Big Apple has the makings of an absorbing, complex intrigue, although so far its psychologically flat characters are nowhere near as intriguing as EZ Streets' (or even NYPD Blue's). We've seen O'Neill's bulldog lawman too often, as well as the hackneyed Noo-Yawk elements: the title, the waterfront scenes, the fast-talking thugs constantly declaring their ethnicity, swearing, spouting colorful cliches or all three ("Kiss my underpaid Irish ass!"). The dank, moody tone is dead-on, though, and a strong cast includes the welcome David Strathairn as the stressed-out head of the FBI force. It's hardly the cure-all for Thursdays-at-10 malaise, but this Apple at least has a chance of keeping the doctors at bay.