House on Fire

My New Years' resolution: actually post to this blog I started.

Oh, and watch more television. Naturally.

Luckily, a few of my favorites are back from hiatus this week, which means I can finally stop holding my breath as I wait for Netflix to bring me another installment of Battlestar Galactica.

First up: House. Last night, House apologized to Tritter for leaving a thermometer in his ass, checked himself into rehab, and apologized to Wilson for generally being an asshole. It was starting to look a little too much like a very special New Years episode of "Ed". I mean, recovery and kindness are great and all, but I watch this show specifically because no one ever learns a lesson, shares her true feelings, or reunites with his estranged father.

Well, actually, sometimes that stuff happens, but House always steps in to ridicule people for having feelings and caring about others. It isn't annoying because he's smarter and wittier than everyone else. Also: hotter. That's right, I have a thing for bitter old men. Come on, I can't be the only girl who feels flush whenever Andy Rooney complains about his junk mail, can I?

I needn't have worried that House was on the verge of starting a sappy love affair with Julie Bowen. He's still an addict, sneaking pills from one of the guards in rehab. Meanwhile, Cuddy perjured herself to keep him out of prison. Turns out, everybody lies. Who knew?

On a more analytic note, this episode was a great example of thematic storytelling that avoids being heavy-handed. The theme was new beginnings - for House, the House & Wilson friendship, and for our patient-of-the-week (he gets electroshock therapy to reboot his brain and erase his broken heart, Eternal Sunshine style). The storylines hang together, but the characters don't address the theme directly. You're never distracted from the actual stories by discussion of what they mean. Instead, you're trusted to figure that out for yourself, on your own terms. Remember the movie "Crash"? It was about race, if you didn't notice. Which would be shocking, because every single scene involved characters discussing their races and how race affected their relationships. It's lazy writing, it makes dialogue feel fake and stilted, and it weighs the script down with an annoying sense of Meaning. If I wanted to be told what to think and how to feel about a story, I'd just watch Studio 60.

Episode Grade: Solid. Too bad we have to wait three weeks for the next installment.

Coming up: Grey's Anatomy returns tomorrow. I'm growing weary of the enormous cast and incenstuous storylines, but the writing is so consistently ingenius that I remain devoted. Also, I just saw an ad for the new Sarah Silverman Program on Comedy Central, debuting February 1st. It looks to be a Seinfeldesque sitcom based on the life of a fictional Silverman, but with singing and dancing and, presumably, more poop jokes.