For the record, I grew bored with HOUSE three years ago, at least. Whatever season it was when they decided to throw the old cast into the ER and hire replacement lookalikes so HOUSE had some fresh emotional baggage to sift through was when the Americanized Hugh Laurie jumped the shark for me. I suppose his redeeming qualities (namely Blackadder and Jeeves & Wooster) left some love in my heart for the snarly, depressed drug addict, enough to intrigue me into watching last night's season premiere.
That and I've always been a sucker for a good train wreck. Nothing could be a better train wreck than the emotionally convoluted Cuddy sucking face with a rehabbed walking bottle of vicodin. Throw their neurotic, self-appointed pseudo-superhero oncologist into the mix and the next words out of your mouth should be, "Iceberg ahead!"
Ah, but then, the writers of HOUSE always find a way to disappoint, and last night's season premiere was no exception. "I don't want this," House declares after a day's worth of uninterrupted animal passion. No one with a child, he argues, should have somebody like him in their life. Why? Because he is a child, you can hear yourself say, a whiney, self-involved brat who can't get over the fact that shit happens in life.
If Cuddy is going to strap herself to a goy, why pick a miserable one? At least with a miserable Jew she'll get a good sense of humor. House is just, well, miserable. Where's the fun in that? As much of a Woody Allen fan as I am not, you have to admit that if Cuddy wanted neurotic she's got plenty in the tribe to choose from. Why get stuck with some miserable drug addict who needs either pills or sex to distract him from his endless navel-gazing? There's no mystical, Talmudic majesty in self-obsession; just ask Larry David. At least, if she had Larry David, she'd be entertained.
Let's face it: Hollywood loves interrelating Jews and gentiles. Usually its the shiksappeal that draws in good Jewish boys like Ben Braddock, Gaylord Focker, and the Zohan in major motion pictures, and let's not forget prime time's poor Bernie Steinberg (we know how well that turned out). Rarely do we get to see a shegetz walk onto the screen (I suppose all us Jewish girls slighted by our male tribal counterparts just become Jewish nuns, whiling away our childbearing years playing Mah Johngg) so when he does, he's got to have more to offer than a bitter tongue and a secret stash. Like Maxwell Sheffield, he should at least be able to offer some decent real estate and a few celebrity connections. Okay, so we might not be able to score the good-hearted nurses or the bushy, rock-hard Mossad agents, but middle-aged navel-gazing nihilists? Is this Jewish Mother syndrome biting us in the tuchus? Really, what did us good Jewish girls ever do to you?
As far as HOUSE goes, the iceberg has already melted out of boredom, leaving the Titanic known as Cuddy&House to drift into the same lackluster oblivion occupied by Dr. Cameron, 13, and the hoards of other women unfortunate enough to get distracted by TV's attempt at a modern-day Lord Byron.
Lisa, listen to your inner mameleh and make a quick exodus while you can. You're still young, vibrant, and successful: If anyone can rescue the Ari Ben Canaans from the shiksas, it's you.
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