HBO (Sat., June 18, 11 p.m. ET)
Richard Lewis (see story, page 103) is at least energetic about his neuroses. In this comedy concert taped in a club in Chicago, he whines about his life with the rhythm, body language and material of a Woody Allen, the posture of a Groucho Marx and the speed of a Mario Andretti. His is a manic depression. He has good lines amidst this hour-long, run-on sentence (“If I ever wrote a sex manual, I’d probably call it Ow, You’re on My Hair). But in the end, I’m forced to feel about Lewis the way he feels about himself: I shrug.