If these things were true:
1) I have an illness that is not easily treated and that requires hospitalization
2) I have a lot of money and nothing to spend it on
Then I would do the following:
1) Pay Hugh Laurie a few million dollars to act like Dr. House
2) Pay a writer for House to write snappy dialogue for him
3) Pay the best doctors in the world to diagnose and treat me
Everything the doctors have to tell me they will tell Hugh Laurie instead, and then he will limp into room with fake reluctance and tell me that I was going to die but then come back after a few hours, pretending that he had reached some kind of epiphany and do something clever to cure me and then tell me that I’m going to be okay.
I would even spring for a cardboard cutout of Lisa Edelstein to stand in the hallway, making this face:
Here’s my wish:
I wish I could see a video of Hugh Laurie singing and playing piano on one of my favorite Dr John songs, all while wearing a delightful hat.
What’s that you say, World Wide Web?
You granted my wish!
Drama makes for entertainment. I get that. I like House MD because House is a jerk. He’s a drama factory.
If you saw the season finale, you saw House’s selfishness contribute to the death of his best friend’s girlfriend. Even though House risked his life to figure out what was wrong with her, she still died. House and Wilson did not end the episode on good terms.
One of the show’s producers commented on this: “The audience should worry about the future of their relationship.”
No. The audience should not worry. That’s a bad idea, Katie Jacobs.
I know she’s teasing the fans who watch the show for its drama. WIth House and Wilson on the outs, as they sometimes are, the drama gets another wrinkle. Stories thrive on wrinkles, and House particularly – just watch how many times a single patient’s diagnosis changes with new symptoms. A show can gain too many wrinkles – it ceases to be good and suddenly becomes dumb. I give you the famous shark-jumping incident as the classic example.
The House/Wilson relationship can’t change too much or it ceases to be interesting. Add as many wrinkles as you like, Katie Jacobs, but don’t jump any sharks.