At Cobain's core: "Montage of Heck" lets us gaze upon a genius for a bit too long.

By the time it had crystallized into its final three-man lineup, Nirvana had absorbed the full spectrum of upstart rock: the Minneapolis sound of the Replacements and Hüsker Dü, the Boston post-punk Pixies' surf pop, Bad Brains' D.C. hardcore and so on. 
But the influenced would become the influential: Sometime during the one-term George H.W. Bush presidency, Nirvana's relatively small discography would be refracted into a legacy that continues today. Six years after his death, Rolling Stone named Cobain its Artist of the Decade. 

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The delicious Cookie recipe of 'Empire': Mix business savvy, fashion flash and fearlessness to get TV's most delicious heroine.

"Empire" is a glorious, over-the-top mess, a "King Lear" soap opera with silly dialogue, pretty people, backstabbing galore and a soundtrack by Timbaland. It would be a tedious exercise instead of a guilty pleasure without Taraji P. Henson as Cookie, equal parts everywoman and Mama Bear in a mink coat, greeting rivals with a "Hey, Boo Boo Kitty!"

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Soderbergh's surgical strike: Oscar-winning director serves up 'The Knick,' a period drama about surgeons unafraid to play God.

New York's Knickerbocker Hospital offers the most advanced medical care 1900 has to offer. 
As soon as the doctor emerges from the opium den, catches a  horse-drawn cab and finds the last usable vein in his toe for his cocaine injection, surgery can begin. 
"The Knick," a 10-part TV drama from Oscar-winning director Steven Soderbergh, inverts the formula that has served most feel-good medical shows so well. Patients at the Knick, especially those who go under the knife, die as a rule and survive as surprise. 

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A new player at the 'Cards' table: The actress behind Iraq veteran Jacqueline Sharp relished the chance to explore women in politics.

Before Frank Underwood can start haunting the West Wing on this season of "House of Cards," he needs to fill his old job as House majority whip. Preferably with someone useful.
Frank's choice - though he won't be publicly backing her - is Jacqueline Sharp, a third-termer from California with a military background and a spine of steel. She's photogenic, popular, way too green and she knows it.
"You chose me for a reason," she tells him after he suggests she take on the job of keeping House Democrats in line. "I'd like to know what it is." 

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On the eve of its 50th anniversary special, I seek out the help of an expert to immerse myself in the world of 'Doctor Who.'

I knew nothing of Doctor Who until two weeks ago. 
Well, that's not strictly correct. I knew it involved time travel. I have a vague memory of college friends watching a curly-haired, bug-eyed guy in a freakishly long scarf scramble over piles of gravel. I knew the fabric of my British TV knowledge had a giant hole that needed to be mended. 

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Fifty shades of 'Bridget' replay: 50-something Bridget Jones doesn't have much new to say in her latest diary entries.

 Author Helen Fielding's late-'90s everywoman was a London-dwelling hot mess prone to girdle mishaps. Fielding constructed her novel from diary entries detailing Bridget's wildly wobbling weight, alcohol intake, cigarettes smoked and insecure sexual daydreams. But an acerbic wit always slipped out between bites of chocolate croissant. 

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Criminal Element: The end is near for 'Breaking Bad,' and it all boils down to not-so-basic chemistry.

Walter White treats the world like his personal chemistry set, but when he needed a street name for his criminal alter ego, he turned to physics.
He has relished his menacing nickname. During one of "Breaking Bad's" spaghetti Western-style desert showdowns, he made sure his reputation had preceded him.
"Say my name," he commanded his new business partner, who wearily replied, "Heisenberg."

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A dying man of a dying breed: The final eight episodes of 'Breaking Bad' mark the end of an era of great bad guys.

Because the shows built around them usually win over critics, large audiences or both, sympathetic sinners are approaching maximum saturation. Even for repeat visitors to pop culture's darkest corners, somewhere between the pervasive misogyny on "House of Cards" and the Southie rage-aholics on "Ray Donovan," enough sociopaths in silk shirts already. 
 

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