Oh, you know what, House…in the words of Dana Whitaker, bite me so hard for that. This post contains total spoilers about last night’s House season finale, so if you haven’t watched yet, well, here be dragons.
My first reaction to last night’s finale was “eeeefffffff.” My second was, “How far away is this psychiatric hospital? It’s sunny and summertime at Chase and Cameron’s wedding, and apparently it’s a Tim Burton movie where House and Wilson are.” In any case, last week’s sexual shenanigans were all a dream. Or a hallucination. Or a drug-induced fantasy. A mental breakdown. An…obnoxious plot contrivance the show has already done – recall the unhinged “No Reason,” or the journey through House’s subconscious in last season’s finale. I guess it’s a matter of fool me three times, shame on all of us. Shame on me, obviously, for buying it when in retrospect my “this couldn’t happen!” reaction was totally on-point. But shame on the show for claiming that Cuddy’s reaction to House shouting to everyone that they’d slept together would be to run to her office and cry, and not to shout back “ugh, no we didn’t, he’s on drugs, the end.” She’s the most accomplished eighth-grader ever.
The one moment I did like – begrudgingly – was the brief return of Kutner. Ostensibly, his suicide is what set House’s breakdown in motion, and seeing him join Amber in House’s ghost-o-vision helped heighten what for me is a pretty static I-See-Dead-People problem. But that didn’t make up for the emotional bankruptcy of the rest of the episode for me.
What about you, PopWatchers? What did Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital teach you last night?