Friday, September 7, 2007

The Problem with House

I will fully admit, I am pathetically addicted to House, MD. I love Hugh Laurie in an a sick and twisted but wholly cynical sort of way -- he says what I think and gets away with it. I love how he treats patients, Wilson and the Cottages, as if his genius excuses the maltreatment. Late to the House party this past spring, I spent the summer voraciously getting up to speed on Seasons 1 and 2 and just downloaded and watched the episodes I missed from Season 3 on the iPod. As I said, I am hopelessly, pathetically addicted.

But I have my problems with House too. If you know me at all, you know I have issues with just about everything and House is not immune.

First, House is meant to be a diagnostic medicine genius. Patients come to him when there's no hope and/or when everyone else has given up on them. Somehow, House (almost always) comes through. He solves the case usually just in the nick of time, but not before he misdiagnoses the patient at least a half dozen times, usually almost killing them with inappropriate surgeries, drug treatments or his inane brand of humor. I know they have to fill an hour and having him solve the mystery in the first 20 minutes or so really kills the vibe, but I think after three seasons of this, I'd think twice before turning to House when all my other options are gone. You know, just in case this time he doesn't get it right.

Second, the opening minute usually sets the stage for whatever the medical dilemma is. We get to see who's sick and why. But a lot of the time, we're misdirected and someone else in this short segment is sick, injured or wounded and we realize about half-way through the show that we never found out why. What happened to the young father of the (eventually revealed to be ill) baby who fell down the stairs vomitting (yet is fine in the ER where they bring said baby), or whether the thug in the truck stop diner survived the head bashing the eventual patient gave him. It's almost a diversionary tactic, this "whooops, not him, him" stuff. Yet I sit there like a fool and always try to outsmart the directors...and I feel so smart when I get it right.

Lastly, I think it's time we got some for Cuddy. She's been playing the game with House long enough now, so whether it's Wilson or some new dude they add to the cast for her, I think she deserves a little reward of the physical sort. As long as it's not House himself (because he's mine). Because that relationship has the Niles-Daphne vibe to it, and we all know that Frasier went to hell once Niles and Daphne finally hooked up (plus he's mine). But it'd be good for House to have to watch it, as well as provide plenty o' fodder for him to one-line (and anyway, he's mine). Enough said.

But all my whimpering aside, as summer comes to a close and the countdown for the only really good tv drama begins (September 25th at 9:00 p.m. if you're keeping track), I only have eyes for one medical guy and he's not McDreamy, McSteamy or the George formerly known as a doctor. Nope, he's House.

No comments: