Time takes a toll on us all, no more so than characters of long-running TV shows. All narrative demands transformation of one sort of another and multiple seasons of revelations, realizations and shifting relationships work like the pounding surf against rock, softening the edges of even the most complicated personalities. By the final season of “MASH,” everyone was a good guy; it took only three seasons of “Glee” to turn Sue Sylvester into an applauding fan of New Directions.
So, as we prepare for the series finale, it is worth pausing for a moment to salute the people behind “House,” namely creator David Shore and actor Hugh Laurie, two maestros who have pulled off a near-miraculous feat: After eight long and occasionally crazy seasons, their title character departs with all his amazing faculties and flaws intact.
Dr. Gregory House is arguably the best and certainly the most influential character to appear on network television in the last decade. As played by Laurie, he answered the question many of us ask ourselves daily: What would life be like if you honest to God didn't care what anyone thought of you? Loosely based on Sherlock Holmes, House was brilliant and clearly broken (both physically and emotionally). He saved lives by solving cases, but his satisfaction came from the solution, not the salvation. “Everybody lies” was his mantra, proving it his life's work — the truth would out, no matter what the cost to him, to his patients, to those around him.
In the wake of the show’s success, that template became standard issue; every other TV detective (including a modern relaunch of Holmes himself on BBC) now comes equipped with a special ability to detect mendacity and a broken heart protectively rimed. But eight years ago, it was quite breathtaking; House was as instantly iconic as Tony Soprano.
Along with the limp, the Vicodin addiction and the refusal to shave, Shore and his writers wisely gave their medical detective a quick, black humor, which made Laurie an inspired casting choice. An accomplished comedian and musician, he not only nailed the punch lines and the pain, he infused them with an ecstatic soulfulness. House may have been an avowed atheist, but there were times when he looked like nothing so much as a hollow-eyed prophet, wandering the halls of Princeton Memorial waiting for the gods to speak.
Not every season of “House” worked as well as others. Chances were taken, with cast and story, and not all of them panned out. And there was a certain level of degeneration built in to both the genre and the character; even Arthur Conan Doyle famously got tired of all the brilliant deductions. More so than most shows, “House” often seemed to rest almost entirely on the strength of its main character, and one wondered just how long Laurie, and those writing for him, could keep things going.
Eight seasons, as it turns out, was just right. It isn't often that a show's final year is as good as its first, but it's true in this case, even with the rather crazy jail time (House in the big house) that opened things.