'House' recap: Experimental haze
The docs try to save an artist who turns out to be a (kind of) druggie, while House's new sleuth gets keen on Cuddy
‘House’ recap: Experimental haze
Well, we knew from the start that it would be difficult to top Foreman’s dead-body sewage explosion from last week. But this week’s House ick factor, a food fur ball, certainly gave it a run for its money. Gross, I know, especially if your dinner consumption coincided with the exact moment a hairy, menacing growth flashed on the flat screen. Thankfully the diagnosis was surprising and freak show enough to save this episode for me despite a tepid patient story line.
I’ll jump to the solved/unsolved mystery here because, until that epiphany from House, I was just focused on hating this week’s continued subplot, which revolved around the Watsonian sidekick to Sherlock House, a PI named Lucas Douglas. That character reminds me too much of those goofy crime solving show protagonists on Monk and Psych. I know those series are supposed to be good and pretty entertaining, but I’m sorry. Do. Not. Get. Them. This personal glitch made me realize that I miss the Wilson-House rapport just as much as House does. An entire episode without resolution left me feeling as frustrated as House did when Cuddy took his cable away and he couldn’t watch his favorite soaps.
Well played, House writers, because now I’m hooked and shall return next week in hope that my favorite TV couple can patch up their palship.
This week’s medical drama, which featured Clueless‘ stoner cutie, Breckin Meyer, as a crappy artist who secretly participated in scary clinical drug trials to make coins and tricked his pretty girlfriend into thinking he is a money-making Picasso, was a wee bit lame. If you are having brain issues, and are in the hospital, and will possibly die, why would you keep it a secret that you have been sucking down non-recreational drugs with unknown side effects? Who among you, my fellow hypochondriacally inclined, would leave out this key piece of info while filling out the hospital intake form — or at any other phase of your treatment, for that matter? If death is a your next big option, I am pretty sure you aren’t going to skip over the question “Are you currently on any medications?”
Okay, drug addicts will lie, but the diagnostic-test marathon was boring compared with last week’s, when a patient got to have the top of her head sliced off by the hot surgeon Dr. Chase, who seemed so nonchalant about it that he might well have been making a sandwich using her cranium as a deli counter.
NEXT: Wrong diagnosis
The Grim Reaper, as always, is a major character on House. Amber’s bus-crash death drives the season and continues to litter each episode with understandably sad emotional debris. House still narcotizes his leg pain and blunts his emotions as he pops pills, while yakking with the team about his drug-addled patient. (House’s trio of names for the drug trials were hilarious, but none better than “Cuckoldisol,” in reference to Taub’s potential marital status.) Thirteen is now open about her Huntington’s disease death sentence, which finally adds weight to her character, while Cameron and Cuddy continue to try to tutor House about the feelings he just doesn’t feel he needs to feel.
I’m so deeply fascinated by House and the way he can spend entire episodes rooting out the emotional and physical ailments of his colleagues and patients, and yet he remains as closed off as ever. But he wouldn’t be House without that. The same way that only House could falsely diagnose Dr. and Mrs. Taub’s relationship drama, but still have the exploration of that diagnostic miss lead, eventually, to the correct answer. As an aside, even with the seriousness of the possible implications, it was hilarious to hear Taub try to sneak a lie past House’s truth-seeking missile: “Damn! Always forget to use the right article while lying.”
Finally, as I mentioned, the private-investigator bits were too cute for my taste, but I was interested in the kid’s attempt to analyze House. Everyone seems to give House a free psychological diagnosis, and I would love to attempt this sport, but as the good doc says, “People hate people who have theories about people.”
I’m riveted by these highbrow analyses but am also shallow enough to tune in next week just to satisfy my primetime-soap-opera jones and to see if House and Wilson get back together and if House and Cuddy finally hook up. Or do you think that the PI will slide in there first?
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