Shows That Irk Me (But I Watch Anyway): House

I watch a lot of TV.  I love reading, and do quite a bit of it as well, but TV has really taken a hold of me. Now before everyone is up in arms about the fact that TV rots the brain, let me point out that I don’t watch TV to tune out and stop thinking.  If anything, most of the TV I like is the kind that gets me thinking that much more.  Sure, it’s no substitute for a good book, but it’s a great medium with a lot to contribute.

That said, TV seems to have one negative quality that I just can’t get past: no matter how much I love a show, there is still some part of it that irks me to no end.  I watch the shows anyway, but sometimes can do little else but shake my head at the latest minor annoyance.  So, to kick off the first entry in my “Shows That Irk Me (But I Watch Anyway)” series, I’ll begin with House.

There, I said it.  House irks me to no end, sometimes.  This is probably one of my most major complaints.

Why are you talking down to me?

In his bestselling book Everything Bad Is Good for You, Steven Johnson uses the term “flashing arrows” to describe “a kind of narrative signpost, planted conveniently to help the audience keep track of what’s going on” (73).  He goes on to further point out that “flashing arrows have grown [. . .] scarce” in recent television (74).  What Johnson argues is that, in general, TV doesn’t play down to the viewer anymore.  Multiple plots and the lack of flashing arrows leave viewers to draw their own conclusions and trust that the writers are leading them the right way. I’ll spare you the further details of what Johnson’s ideas about television, but I’ll use his particular term quite a bit in the discussion of House. To wit:

This clip is what irks me about House.

House is an intelligent show.  Its drama tends to be well-conceived, even if it is occasionally a bit on the ludicrous side.  The show has unique ailments and multiple threading (thank you, Steven Johnson) that make the show a task to follow.  As is a more common trend with television of late, there is an overarching back story to each character that is revealed little by little.  The sum of these parts is a show that is well-written with characters that—for the most part—feel real and interesting.

Then the writers add in scenes like the one above, and they do it frequently.  It seems as though in every episode the viewer is condescended to about what, exactly, these illnesses are.  Now, I’ll play devil’s advocate for a moment: some of these diseases are quite rare, and as such it’s reasonable to assume that we’d like some explanation.  But that doesn’t forgive the fact that the writers often add in these flashing arrows poorly.  It would be one thing if the writers script a scene where a doctor explains to a confused patient what just happened.  A bit hackneyed, perhaps, but also significantly more believable.

Instead, the team of doctors is frequently assembled in House’s antechamber performing a differential, during which time one doctor will explain to the rest what a certain illness is.  Didn’t they all go to medical school?  Not to mention House wouldn’t choose an incompetent practitioner for his team.  It’s hard for me to swallow the fact that Taub needs Foreman to explain to him what a myopathy is.

Medical Dramas are ubiquitous on television.  By now, I feel as though the average viewer can connect most of the dots on what a particular ailment is.  Flashing arrows are rare in most television shows, which is probably why it bothers me so much that House seems to rely on them so heavily.

People Don’t Change (Or Do They?)

This is another part of House that bothers me a bit.  House’s belief that nobody ever changes and everybody lies have become central tenets of the show.  Most of the drama in some way plays into this idea: Taub repeatedly cheats, Cameron falls for people she can’t fix and Foreman keeps alienating those around him to further his career.  Not to mention Cuddy and House will always have some kind of sexual tension, but never be able to reconcile it.

So if people not changing is so central to the plot, why is it that the most recent plot developments have centered around House changing?

I’ll play the devil’s advocate again: sure, most of the characters don’t change, but the impact of House changing is what makes the new twists in the drama so interesting.  The fact that House’s beliefs are so central to the show and yet those are the the ones being challenged–by House, no less–is what creates even more dramatic impact.

This argument is good enough.  But it’s outweighed by the fact that none of the other characters ever seem to learn anything from the lessons around them.  Cuddy even makes the mistake of avoiding a potentially great life with someone who isn’t emotionally damaged to run back to House.

If there’s one lesson I keep on learning from House, it’s that people never change.  And if that’s the case, then the end of the latest season seems to fly in the face of everything.  Cuddy and House kiss, ostensibly because House is confronting his demons and, finally, at a point where he might be able to commit to Cuddy.

What this means for the show is likely going to be one of two things: House and Cuddy work out and House recovers from his addiction, or House relapses. Seeing as the show seems to be heading toward Huddy being a more permanent fixture, I’m not holding much hope for the show sticking to its “nobody changes” guns.

Which is why the drama in House causes me some concern.  The lessons always go back to House being right, and House never views humanity favorably.  Yet here we are, looking at Huddy working because House, of all people, changed while everybody else remains a flat fixture in House’s world.

Why Old Spice Earned My Loyalty (And Miller Lite Hasn’t)

Not too long ago on my Facebook I updated a status lauding the merits of the “Old Spice Guy.”  I had expected the overwhelming response from my friends to be negative, namely for being such a sucker for a simple advertisement. Much to my surprise, most of my friends agreed with me.  Some acquaintances I haven’t even spoken to for some time came out of the woodwork to “Like” the post.  This led me to wonder: what is it about the Old Spice Guy that gets people going?

It should come as no surprise that the standard definition of masculinity has come under fire; long gone are the days where James Bond models the only accepted form of masculinity.  The extrapolation of the results of AskMen.com’s recent survey of men provides a telling insight into the way men now perceive themselves as a part of society.  To provide some quick highlights of their results: women, who are beginning to outnumber and out-earn men in academic and professional environments, are not perceived as a threat.  Men overwhelmingly appear to value their friendships and morality.  Family is valued over career as the ultimate achievement for men.  Men even reported that they enjoy cooking and “only a paltry 5% claimed that cooking is ‘women’s work’.”  This redefinition is, perhaps, what makes the Old Spice Guy so interesting.

Why the Old Spice Guy Works

If you haven’t seen the commercials yet, take a look at one of my favorite commercials featuring the Old Spice Guy: “The Man Your Man Could Smell Like”.

As a follow-up, Old Spice then released this commercial, also featuring the Old Spice Guy.

Take a minute to soak in what just happened in those commercials.  The first time I witnessed “The Man Your Man Could Smell Like” I was awe-struck.  The commercial moves quickly, and so much happens that if you blink you miss exactly what makes that commercial (and the follow-up ad) so particularly enthralling.

For the entirety of the commercial the Old Spice Guy stands (and sits) in white pants, no shirt, and a tied-off button-down around his neck. He is physically fit, but not overwhelmingly buff.  He is a kind of idealized every-man, dressed in clothing that a well pieced together man would wear when he wants to have some time off.  This certainly is in Old Spice’s best interest—they wouldn’t want to portray an overweight, slovenly dressed man while trying to convince you to use their body wash.

Yet, every word he utters is centered on seducing women with the time-worn tricks: tickets (to that thing you like), boats, diamonds, and even a horse.   Perhaps the horse is a bit much, but the boat, diamonds and tickets all portray a man who is well-off and rugged, yet sensitive enough to know that sometimes women want to go to that thing they like instead of getting dinner at Buffalo Wild Wings. In deconstructing the second ad I find the most interest moments to be from :14-:18 in the clip.  The implication that a man who smells like the Old Spice Guy will be rugged enough to do some serious carpentry, yet sensitive enough to bake you a beautiful cake.  Eventually, he’ll end up on a motorcycle.

What Old Spice has done with the creation of the Old Spice Guy is engage this new masculinity. They have created a man who is well put together and sensitive enough to know what women really want (a nod to the metrosexuals, perhaps?). It does this all while never straying away from an intangibly rugged masculinity.  He treats you well, but only after he’s engaged his bad boy side.  (Interestingly enough, Axe engaged this same aesthetic, significantly less effectively, in their commercial for Axe Twist.)

Why Miller Lite Doesn’t

Miller Lite provides a great example of what happens when you take those attempts to use masculinity to drive sales a bit too far.  There are plenty examples in this wave of advertisements, but I’ve chose one that serves as the best example. The real conundrum is how this ad gets it so horribly wrong while the Old Spice ads get it right.

I feel as though the answer here is pretty simple.  Without going so far as to accuse the ad of homophobia, it certainly does seem to have some fear of the sensitive man.  The man’s “purse” does, quite honestly, appear to be a messenger bag.  But that’s beside the point.  Why does the beer the man drinks have anything to do with his perceived masculinity?  And what is this ad saying by having an attractive woman accusing him of, essentially, not being a man?  What the ad is doing is less implying than smacking you in the face.  There is little subtlety to the man being called out by an attractive model of femininity.

What Exactly Old Spice Did Right

The most beautiful part of the Old Spice ads is their tone.  At no point do the Old Spice commercials take themselves seriously.  Old Spice isn’t saying if you use their body wash you become Old Spice Guy.  No, you just smell like him.  If you choose to make the logical leap that smelling like him is to be him, that’s your choice.  For Old Spice, the tongue-in-cheek nature and over-the-top effects of the ads are the icing on the cake that the Old Spice Guy baked for you.  It’s just enough to let them say “we aren’t serious, we’re doing this ironically!”  And perhaps, for once, someone is doing something both ironically and well.

Unlike the Old Spice Guy ads, the Miller commercial takes itself seriously.  When Miller Lite airs this, they’re actually expecting you to buy into the belief that you have to be a certain “type” of man at a certain level of masculinity to drink their beer.  Where Old Spice doesn’t even imply you’ll be like the Old Spice Guy, the Miller Lite ad leaves you no choice:  if you’re not drinking Miller, you may as well carry a purse.  The difference is that the former believes you can sort things out for yourself, while the latter thinks you’re too stupid (or drunk) to think differently.

This is why Old Spice earned my loyalty and Miller Lite hasn’t.