One of my favorite shows is House. My DVR starts humming with delight every Monday, knowing that the exploits of the irascible Dr. House and his entourage are soon to begin. I mean, what’s not to love about House?
If you’re talking about Gregory House, the character, then there’s a whole lot not to love. He watches porn, frequents prostitutes, lies, cheats, and steals. He badgers, belittles, and berates colleagues and patients alike.
For most of the show’s run, he was an unrepentant drug addict willing to do just about anything for his next fix. Then again, he’d do just about anything to win a bet or make his boss look bad, too. He just does whatever he wants whenever he wants, with only a minimal regard for the feelings, interests, or basic safety of others.
The thing that makes this unbearable jerk interesting is that he is the most brilliant diagnostician in the world. Patients from around the world seek his services when no one else can figure out what is wrong with them. When it comes to diagnosing patients, House’s brilliance, obsessiveness, total disregard for others, and complete lack of a life outside the confines of Princeton Plainsboro Hospital all combine to enable House and his team to cure (or at least diagnose) the patient before the final credits roll.
I’m fascinated by a show that makes you root for a bad guy. The Sopranos made us all want to see the amoral, adulterous, murdering crime boss elude the FBI. House takes the same formula but twists it around three or four times. House is good – he’s a doctor, he saves lives. He’s bad - see the second and third paragraphs above.
He doesn’t learn. He repeatedly returns to his selfish shallow life, forgoing faith, hope, and love on weekly basis. In return, he gets to be intellectually superior and wildly self-indulgent. House is Sherlock Holmes for the 21st century, trading in a magnifying glass for a stethoscope.
There’s nothing to love about House the character, but oh so much to love about House the show.
