Shadowland

There's no lack of crazy folks on TV. As in Stark Raving Mad, as in "cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs," as in, that Dharma? Woo, is she cra-a-zy!

Mentally ill, though, that's another story. "The shadow people," as the psychiatric drama Wonderland (ABC, debuts March 30, 10 p.m. E.T.) calls them, pervade overstressed hospitals and precincts in real life, yet lurk invisible in prime time's institutional dramas. This literate and impeccably executed series, alas, may prove why. From the opening scene of a patients' group session devolving into a shouting match, to the story of a multiple murderer with a Zeus complex, Wonderland all but begs viewers to flip to the comparatively cheery bloodbaths of ER.

That would be a shame. Wonderland is not about craziness. Its much repeated mantra and true theme is "balance"--mental, professional and personal. It's a frustrating goal for both patients and the well-cast staff, such as Dr. Robert Banger (Ted Levine), who juggles chaotic patient evaluations with Zen cool (he's the Phil Jackson of psychiatry) while fighting for custody of his kids in his spare time.

Ultimately, Wonderland disturbs not because it is violent or loud--though it can border on pathos--but because, unlike crime or injury, its subject defies easy blame and explanation. But creator Peter Berg (Very Bad Things) balances its starkness with writing of remarkable empathy. As Banger says at his custody hearing, "I have a tremendous respect for [my children's] minds, for the beauty of their minds." Wonderland has a tremendous respect for its audience's minds, and for the beauty of even a shattered psyche.