I always think of "Law & Order: Criminal Intent" as "that other 'Law & Order.'"

First came "Law & Order," the original, the "Dragnet"-like cops-and-prosecutors procedural with the eternally revolving cast. Nineteen seasons on NBC (second only to "Gunsmoke" among all TV drama series) and no end in sight. Simple secrets of success: consistently great writing, New York scenery, New York actors. All that, and ripped-from-the-headlines plots that keep you guessing until the jury delivers its verdict: Guilty? Not guilty?

Next came "Law & Order: Special Victims Unit," also on NBC, often engrossing, but the one I think of as "child-molesting serial killer of the week."

"Criminal Intent," now in its eighth season, was originally supposed to follow a crime from the criminal's point of view, watching nervously as the cops inexorably close in, but quickly turned its cameras in the direction of the charismatic Vincent D'Onofrio as Det. Robert Goren, who solves cases by worming his way into the often-labyrinthian head of the criminal. Alone among the "L.&O." series, "C.I." became a star vehicle, often interesting but a touch less compelling than its batterymates, its scripts not quite as challenging.

"C.I." moved from NBC to cable's USA channel (both belong to Universal Media) in 2007, and for the last few years D'Onofrio has only starred every other week, alternating with Christ Noth, once more playing Mike Logan, the detective he played in the original "L&O." (You really need a program, or at least a chart, to keep up.)

Noth departed last year, taking Logan with him, and now Jeff Goldblum, tall and rangy master of the mocking, ironic grin and sidelong glance, enters as Det. Zach Nichols. Nichols used to work here seven years ago, explains boss detective Danny Ross (Eric Bogosian), and now he's back. So much for back-story, for the time being. ("L.&O.:C.I." introduces Goldblum as Zach Nichols at 9 p.m. Sunday, April 26, on USA.)

D'Onofrio, seen in last week's season opener, doesn't look good. The horizontal growth that fans have noticed in recent years continues disturbingly apace, and those pregnant pauses in his dialogue have evolved beyond dramatic technique into too-obvious mannerism. In some scenes, I wondered if the character was searching for the right word, or if the actor had forgotten his lines. It's long been said that you can watch actors age in their old movies and reruns, and it's alarmingly true in the case of D'Onofrio. Thanks to his increasing weight, he seems to have aged much more than seven or eight years since filming the early episodes now in reruns.

Nichols makes his first appearance Sunday at a crime scene in one of the nether regions of Brooklyn, where a young musician has just been stabbed to death. Like much of New York, it's a place in transition. Graffiti still crawls over the walls like neon-bright ivy, but colonies of young, white musicians living in lofts signal a discomfiting demographic evolution in progress. "You've got worlds in collision here," Ross observes. "Orthodox Jews, urban blacks, punk rock stars of the 21st century. Not a lot of love."

Enter the chipper Nichols, bearing takeout bagels, grits with ham, and a tantric charm, all bought in a single block. He sees the bright side of the neigborhood's recent history.

He is taking over where Logan left off as lead partner to Det. Megan Wheeler, played still by Julianne Nicholson. (Dick Wolf, executive producer of all the "L.&O." series, seems to have an aversion to promoting his female second-banana cops and lawyers into the top jobs. Diane Wiest played the role of District Attorney Nora Lewin in "L.&O." for a couple of seasons early in the century, but that was a notable exception.)

As played by Goldblum, Nichols is a cerebral sort of cop, often lost in thought, not overly communicative. Sort of a thin Nero Wolfe, but chipper. When a second death occurs in Sunday's episode, Ross wonders if it was meant to cover up evidence from the first.

"No," says Nichols, allowing doubt to creep into his tone.

"Then what?" asks Ross.

"I don't know," answers Nichols, plainly rolling theories around in his head.

Goldblum has brought welcome new energy and a fresh outlook to a series that's been faltering of late, but the dialogue is still flabby in comparison to Wolf's two other series, the solutions to the mystery more obvious. When Nichols declares that one of his suspects is indeed "a killer," we're asked to accept his conclusion simply on faith in his intuition as a sleuth. At that early point in the hour, the evidence just isn't there

"Law & Order: Criminal Intent" is still "that other 'Law & Order,'" an interesting, moderately entertaining cop show, but short of the high standards of the other two in the franchise.