Still outside the House

Some months ago, I promised commenter Lily that I would give House another try when it premiered, and so I did. I had fallen out of love with the program over time; based on that single episode, the new season does not promise a rekindling of that romance. Not that it was a bad ep; Hugh Laurie is great as always at what he does, as are the other actors in the ensemble. It’s simply that they are doing what they always do, and what they always do no longer interests me all that much.

The short answer, I think, is that I just got bored. This is the thing about most serials: the people in them don’t change, not substantially, and not for long. If they did, they might not be people whose lives you’d want to follow in serials. What you’re left with, then, is a familiar dynamic between known elements. Sometimes familiarity brings comfort and enjoyment; other times, it breeds…well, you know. House just wound up on the wrong side of the ledger.

At least I still have Midsomer Murders, whose familiarity - ghoulish, in a genteel fashion - is comforting to me.

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