house
My friend Katey recently asked me to explain the phenomenon of House, or more specifically what there is in the show to get hooked on, and more specifically still how and why I have become so smitten. It’s a loaded question ripe-to-bursting with condescension, since it implies (though she also explicitly stated) that she knows quite a few people who make time for House and has yet to understand why. To clarify, it’s not that she is being condescending; she is genuinely incredulous, I think, as are most of the people who ask the question. From my time on the other side of the fence of this issue, I know that the problem is not so much figuring out the appeal, but reconciling the appeal of the show with the kinds of people who watch. So what I’m saying is: I have to find some way to answer for the many different people who watch a popular television show and pretend we all do it for the same reason.
The problem: House is a soap opera. That’s what it is. It’s very well acted and well written (to the point where the show will often acknowledge itself in the form of Dr. House’s favorite TV show, a fictional soap opera that seems to be something like General Hospital) but very quickly the viewer will notice that the episodes follow a repetitive structure. The either the patient or the person accompanying the patient is lying. The first diagnosis is never correct. Obstacles will arise. House will call Dr. Cuddy a slut and have a psych 101 discussion with Wilson. A completely unconnected case in the clinic will give him the piece of information he needs to solve the main case around the 45-minute mark, at which point he’ll stare into space for a moment, abruptly leave and the patient will be saved. That’s every episode. It’s so formulaic, it’s hard to see what makes it different from a soap opera other than the grueling production demands that force actual soaps to abandon any pretense of artistic merit. If House aired five times a week instead of twenty-five times a season, of course it would be terrible.
The fairest comparison would have to be with Law & Order, another show I happen to love. You don’t need many L&O’s under your belt to recognize that the first guy they catch didn’t do it, or that Jack McCoy’s smoking gun piece of evidence will be subjected to a Motion To Suppress based on some part of the police procedure (which, if successful, will quickly be followed by a Motion To Dismiss the whole case--apparently these two forms are very popular and no defense attorney would be caught dead without them in his valise). This should be as obvious as the fact that, say, Sammy is faking her pregnancy to keep her hooks in whatever man she’s interested in this season.
Obviously, the problem is predictability. I understand how it’s hard to accept something predictable as also being engaging; artistically, the word is often a synonym for contrived. This is a hard association to break. For illustration, I’ll mention that (I believe) one of Katey’s favorite shows is Lost, which lives on the opposite end of the spectrum in that it prides itself on remaining thoroughly unpredictable. I used to be hooked on Lost myself, to the point where I kept watching episodes long after I stopped enjoying them. I finally stopped myself, only recently, when I figured out the problem with the show. See, Lost was incredibly innovative and well-written for the first two seasons, which was a problem because so much of the show revolved around it being unpredictable. I, like many other fans of the show I assume, began to associate its innovation with its unpredictability, which makes the show’s job that much easier--just get me intrigued as to what will happen next week and I’ll watch, whether or not I enjoy it. I’m actually kind of angry at not recognizing this earlier, since I’ve been referring to this phenomenon as the Memento effect, after the 2001 movie that revolved around an intriguing gimmick and a twist ending and captured critical acclaim, prompting way too many screenwriters to assume that the first two caused the third. If you wanted, I guess you could just as easily name this phenomenon after The Usual Suspects.
My point is, predictability or unpredictability don’t make a show good or bad. They just provide the framework for the quality of the show. My friend Karen, who runs a lot of dance shows these days, was telling me recently that the more she sees a given performance, the longer it seems to last; I thought this was interesting, because my experience is the opposite. I find that if I see a performance or a movie more than once, it seems shorter every time. Whenever something happens, I find myself thinking about the parts that will happen next, in sequence, and I’m able to quantify how much is left. If, on the other hand, it’s my first time watching it, even if I know the running time, I could look at my watch and determine how much is remaining and still not be able to quantify that for myself. Ten minutes could be long or short depending on context, but I know how long the epilogue of The Royal Tenenbaums feels. The repetitiveness breeds familiarity. Similarly, I see House like sitting down to watch a movie I love and have seen many times before. Seeing the same thing twice can have different results.
But then again, Karen may be a bigger House fan than I. So maybe everyone’s take is different.
The problem: House is a soap opera. That’s what it is. It’s very well acted and well written (to the point where the show will often acknowledge itself in the form of Dr. House’s favorite TV show, a fictional soap opera that seems to be something like General Hospital) but very quickly the viewer will notice that the episodes follow a repetitive structure. The either the patient or the person accompanying the patient is lying. The first diagnosis is never correct. Obstacles will arise. House will call Dr. Cuddy a slut and have a psych 101 discussion with Wilson. A completely unconnected case in the clinic will give him the piece of information he needs to solve the main case around the 45-minute mark, at which point he’ll stare into space for a moment, abruptly leave and the patient will be saved. That’s every episode. It’s so formulaic, it’s hard to see what makes it different from a soap opera other than the grueling production demands that force actual soaps to abandon any pretense of artistic merit. If House aired five times a week instead of twenty-five times a season, of course it would be terrible.
The fairest comparison would have to be with Law & Order, another show I happen to love. You don’t need many L&O’s under your belt to recognize that the first guy they catch didn’t do it, or that Jack McCoy’s smoking gun piece of evidence will be subjected to a Motion To Suppress based on some part of the police procedure (which, if successful, will quickly be followed by a Motion To Dismiss the whole case--apparently these two forms are very popular and no defense attorney would be caught dead without them in his valise). This should be as obvious as the fact that, say, Sammy is faking her pregnancy to keep her hooks in whatever man she’s interested in this season.
Obviously, the problem is predictability. I understand how it’s hard to accept something predictable as also being engaging; artistically, the word is often a synonym for contrived. This is a hard association to break. For illustration, I’ll mention that (I believe) one of Katey’s favorite shows is Lost, which lives on the opposite end of the spectrum in that it prides itself on remaining thoroughly unpredictable. I used to be hooked on Lost myself, to the point where I kept watching episodes long after I stopped enjoying them. I finally stopped myself, only recently, when I figured out the problem with the show. See, Lost was incredibly innovative and well-written for the first two seasons, which was a problem because so much of the show revolved around it being unpredictable. I, like many other fans of the show I assume, began to associate its innovation with its unpredictability, which makes the show’s job that much easier--just get me intrigued as to what will happen next week and I’ll watch, whether or not I enjoy it. I’m actually kind of angry at not recognizing this earlier, since I’ve been referring to this phenomenon as the Memento effect, after the 2001 movie that revolved around an intriguing gimmick and a twist ending and captured critical acclaim, prompting way too many screenwriters to assume that the first two caused the third. If you wanted, I guess you could just as easily name this phenomenon after The Usual Suspects.
My point is, predictability or unpredictability don’t make a show good or bad. They just provide the framework for the quality of the show. My friend Karen, who runs a lot of dance shows these days, was telling me recently that the more she sees a given performance, the longer it seems to last; I thought this was interesting, because my experience is the opposite. I find that if I see a performance or a movie more than once, it seems shorter every time. Whenever something happens, I find myself thinking about the parts that will happen next, in sequence, and I’m able to quantify how much is left. If, on the other hand, it’s my first time watching it, even if I know the running time, I could look at my watch and determine how much is remaining and still not be able to quantify that for myself. Ten minutes could be long or short depending on context, but I know how long the epilogue of The Royal Tenenbaums feels. The repetitiveness breeds familiarity. Similarly, I see House like sitting down to watch a movie I love and have seen many times before. Seeing the same thing twice can have different results.
But then again, Karen may be a bigger House fan than I. So maybe everyone’s take is different.