NBC’s new series “My Name Is Earl” – the best new network half-hour comedy of the fall season – somehow engineered an emotional response in me so rare, and so fulfilling, that I barely believed it possible that a by-the-numbers programmer like NBC Universal Television’s president, Jeff Zucker, actually approved it. This show may not save the sitcom form, but its devotion to the notion of redemption and good karma, coupled with raucous and riveting character-driven comedy, make it essential viewing for anyone who has lived anything other than a righteous and noble existence. And that would be … all of us.

Okay, so Earl might be somewhat more of a loser than you or I, though he did manage to marry a blond bombshell somewhere during his descent into hell. In the debut episode (which airs tonight at 9 p.m.), Earl has reached rock bottom: His wife has left him, he has lost a $100,000 lottery ticket, and he has just been hit head-on by a moving car. While Earl recuperates in a hospital bed, he happens to watch an episode of “Last Call With Carson Daly” and hears the host explain his good fortune this way: “You do good things, and good things happen to you,” Mr. Daly cheerfully asserts to his guest. “You do bad things and bad things will happen to you. It’s called karma.” This proves nothing less than a revelation for Earl, who deems Mr. Daly some sort of oracle and sets out to follow his example. For the rest of the episode – and, presumably, the series – Earl will be righting the hundreds of wrongs (he wrote them down in a list he carries around) he has committed over his lamentable life.

The perverse charms of “My Name Is Earl” wash over every frame of the show’s pilot as it zigzags between past and present with flashbacks, quick cuts, and narration that add manic energy without distracting from its simple story. Creator Greg Garcia has wrenched hope from the cynicism that has pervaded so many recent sitcoms, and found the heart and soul of a country that wants something better for itself. When Earl takes on his first karmic mission – to repair the wrongdoing he heaped on a schoolyard geek from his childhood – he doesn’t settle for a short-term fix; he wants to give the guy a better life, and will spend his last dime to do it. To add to the challenge, he’s partnered with his brother Randy, a beer-guzzling lout who flirts with women by tossing an imaginary fish hook in their direction and reeling them in for a dance – always to the tune of the 1998 hip-hop classic “It Takes Two,” performed by Rob Base and DJ EZ Rock.

It’s a shrewdly calculated premise for a series; from the first half-hour you see where it’s going and how much fun the journey promises. But this doesn’t just represent a clever concept; unlike so many sitcoms on television, “My Name Is Earl” stands as a triumph of execution, with a cast, script, and direction as strong as any on television. The jokes grow organically out of character, and the visuals – shot in the single camera format, with no laugh track or studio audience, by director Marc Buckland – add to the comedy. It’s not going to make you howl, but there’s a low-level buzz that keeps the show crackling and smart at every turn. The supporting performances add immeasurably to its pleasures, including former Playboy Playmate Jaime Pressley as Earl’s self-absorbed ex-wife, and Ethan Suplee, who rocks as Randy.

But for all its other charms, “My Name Is Earl” belongs to the man in the title role, Jason Lee. If the series finds the success it deserves, it’ll be his doing, and earn him status as one of this generation’s great television comedy stars. Nothing in his previous film performances prepared me for his winning presence and charisma; he’d shown some talent in “Chasing Amy” and “Almost Famous,” but it turns out he fits better into the small-screen dimensions of television. He’s almost bursting out of the set – but not quite. His easy mannerisms and handlebar moustache make him one of the most appealing degenerates I’ve seen on screen in years.

But this isn’t a show for guys who love babes and beer, though it would certainly satisfy; families should gather around their sets for this one, and let the message of “My Name Is Earl” sink in slowly. There’s an underlying theme that plays equally well to children and adults – the role that karma plays in our lives, and the way it shapes our destiny. In a way, the existence of this show must owe itself to that principle; good karma befell its creator, Mr. Garcia, who has none of the fancy credits that usually earn someone a shot at the networks’ primetime fall schedules. (After bouncing around Hollywood for a while, he co-created “Yes, Dear,” CBS’s regrettable family sitcom.) Mr. Garcia’s gifts turn out to exceed those of many far more experienced and celebrated television writers, whose ratings-driven concepts and star vehicles tend to crash and burn. In less than 30 minutes, “My Name Is Earl” manages to single-handedly restore our faith in an art form – and remind us, yet again, that the best comedies on television always celebrate the losers among us. It may yet become the medium’s most enduring tradition.

***

Those of us who watch television – and admit to it – have been trained to be grateful for small blessings, and that’s exactly what “Everybody Hates Chris” turns out to be. Once this series finds its footing, it may become something more than that, but for the moment it’s merely a well-executed, clever, and engaging family show set in a world woefully unrepresented on television – the working-class black family. Critics who compare the life of Chris’s family in Bedford-Stuyvesant to that of the Huxtables in Queens on “The Cosby Show” have forgotten the Huxtables’ upper-middle-class lifestyle; Cliff was a physician married to Claire, a lawyer, and his five children never felt the pain of hunger or poverty. Unlike the Huxtables, the characters who populate this UPN comedy count their pennies; Chris’s father Julius keeps maniacal (and highly comical) track of the family finances.

It’s hard to see where “Everybody Hates Chris” (debuting Thursday night at 8 p.m.) wants to go, exactly; right now it’s an entertaining dose of “Roseanne”-ish edge. It’s clearly meant to make us care about the conditions here, in much the same way “Roseanne” reminded us that millions of Americans in the television audience sometimes went without a weekly paycheck and struggled to make ends meet. In that sense, “Everybody Hates Chris” deserves its accolades as a groundbreaking show; every so often the networks have to stop pretending that their audience has endless discretionary dollars to spend on demographically correct merchandise.

Co-creators Chris Rock and Ali LeRoi have concocted a clever family structure, and cast it well. The boy in the title role – Tyler James Williams – has just the right mix of mischievousness and humanity, and will serve effectively as the show’s warm emotional center. Tequan Richmond, fresh from playing the young Ray Charles in “Ray,” turns up here as Chris’s taller, cooler, and younger brother Drew. And Terry Crews, a true comedy find, wakes up every scene he’s in as the dad. Messrs. Rock and LeRoi have given themselves the makings of a hit show to work with; now it’s up to them to stretch the boundaries a little and deliver a show we want to watch more than once. Right now it’s worthy of our admiration, not our addiction.