'Drop Dead Diva'

The press material for Lifetime's new comedy "Drop Dead Diva" contains a lot of accolades from "women's groups" in which terms like "role model" and "grab your girlfriends" appear with alarming frequency -- as if the publicity department were bracing critics for a show that should be viewed through a political or genre framework instead of simply as, you know, a television show anyone might enjoy. (The term "role model" especially tolls in a critic's ear with as much anticipatory delight as Poe's funeral iron bells.)

None of which was necessary, as "Drop Dead Diva" is a lot of fun to watch, with the added bonus of introducing TV audiences to Brooke Elliott, a stage actress with fabulous comic timing and enormous dramatic flexibility.

Oh, and she weighs a bit more than 100 pounds, which may explain all that "women's group" nonsense.

Created by Josh Berman, who has written for "CSI" and "Bones," "Drop Dead Diva" answers the age old question: What would happen if a dippy but beautiful woman woke up one morning with a brilliant mind but a dumpy body? OK, maybe it's not an age-old question, but it certainly is an interesting twist on the rather worn pretty-and-witless-meets-schlubby-and-smart-narrative that fuels so much of chick lit.

All this and heaven too. "Drop Dead Diva" opens with two very different women about to meet their doom. Jane (Elliott) is a driven drudge of a lawyer who wears brooches and finds what little joy she experiences in work and carbs. Lots of carbs.

Deb, played by Brooke D'Orsay, meanwhile, is a tight-bodied empty-headed model-actress (guess which one is blond; go ahead, guess) on her way to audition for a job Vanna White made famous.

Both are tragically killed, and we meet up with Deb as she enters the Great Sorting Room in the Sky, where Fred (Ben Feldman), her celestial concierge, informs her that though she has never done an evil deed, she has neither done a good one, making her his first "zero, zero." Stung, she manages to get sent back to Earth, but via the tragically imperfect body of Jane.

With a setup like this, it would be very easy to fall into a veritable showcase of sexism -- How dumb was Deb? How fat is Jane? -- but Berman produces a deft juggling trick of heart and humor, balancing Deb's shallowness with some solid common sense and Jane's inadequate self-esteem with kindness and legal brilliance.