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sabotabbyAh, House. You have been a fun diversion for the past five years, but I think it may be time to call it quits. As in, what the fuck was with the season opener? Did we really need a pale copy of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (a book/movie that I already find deeply problematic) with every possible Hollywood stereotype of people with mental illnesses thrown in for good measure?
For those who missed it, the last season of House ended with the titular character hallucinating first his best friend's dead girlfriend, then an affair with his boss, and finally deciding that yes, he had a Bit of a Problem. Whereupon he checked himself into a psychiatric hospital. So far so good. One worries about this from a narrative point-of-view, because a sane and well-adjusted House without a Vicodin addiction is not exactly the world's most interesting character, but hey, I'll put up with a lot because of Hugh Laurie's pretty, pretty eyes.
So this season opened with a withdrawal montage. I hate withdrawal montages, but probably the only thing more annoying is actually witnessing withdrawal (have you ever seen someone go through withdrawal?) so, okay. Vicodin-free, he tries to check himself out, only to find that while he's technically free to leave, he doesn't get back his medical license until the chief psychiatrist at the hospital writes him a note.
He's then put on a random ward with a collection of random crazies. And I use this term deliberately. Because they are all Hollywood!Crazy, diagnosable by a single glance, an uttered phrase, or, in some cases, what they don't say. But there's the paranoid guy who's twitchy, the manic guy who raps, the depressed girl who tugs at her long sleeves to cover up her slit wrists, the anorexic guy who won't eat, the silent girl who stares creepily straight ahead. The doctors act like camp counsellors, cheerfully announcing, "group time!" Regardless of the specific mental illness, the treatment is the same: talking about your feelings AA-style, and pills.
House, being still in-character for the beginning of the episode, predictably tries to raise hell, and that's where we get our Cuckoo's Nest parody. It ought to be funny, but it's just painful. The other patients have no character beyond the clichés of their various illnesses, and they are as easily led around as children, be it in open revolt or covert schemes. The "twist," such that it is, is that instead of Nurse Ratched, House's antagonist is an intelligent and well-meaning doctor who outsmarts him and only wants the best for his patients, even though at least one has seen no improvement for a decade.
The moral of the episode is ghastly: Be good, follow the rules, and everything will be okay. House's "cure" is that he needs to cooperate with the nice doctor and learn to connect with people again (which he does by having an affair with the married friend of one of his patients). And take pills. Which makes no sense, as I don't think SSRIs do anything to prevent hallucinations. But then, another patient is cured after she opens a music box, so who knows. Didn't this show do its research at some point?
It's brutal to watch fictional portrayals of mental illness, particularly when one has struggled with mental illness for a decade. I suppose I'm lucky in that I'm pretty functional. On most days, I win and depression loses. It used to be the other way around. And having lived with depression still defines me to some degree. But you can't tell from looking at me. I don't have the sort of shorthand one sees every time a mentally ill character appears on TV or in a movie. Part of the cruelty of mental illness is its invisibility.
It's brutal to watch fictional portrayals of mentally ill people because these portrayals tend to re-enforce one of a few narratives. Mentally ill people are beautiful sacred oracles into a greater truth who need to be freeeeeee (the anti-psychiatry narrative favoured by the left and most sci-fi/fantasy; see also why I have problems with Cuckoo's Nest). Mentally ill people are mental children who need to be cared for and protected from themselves (the liberal narrative; my problem with this episode, mainly). Mentally ill people are faking it or weak and just need to get their shit together (the conservative narrative; why James Frey deserves to be beaten with a trout). Nowhere does the person living with mental illness get their own story, their own interests or personality or beliefs. The person is the sum of their (visible, highly stylized) illness. And the story is praised for its depth and daring.
Shorter![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sabotabby: I might be paranoid, but you never see me twitching at invisible UFOs.
For those who missed it, the last season of House ended with the titular character hallucinating first his best friend's dead girlfriend, then an affair with his boss, and finally deciding that yes, he had a Bit of a Problem. Whereupon he checked himself into a psychiatric hospital. So far so good. One worries about this from a narrative point-of-view, because a sane and well-adjusted House without a Vicodin addiction is not exactly the world's most interesting character, but hey, I'll put up with a lot because of Hugh Laurie's pretty, pretty eyes.
So this season opened with a withdrawal montage. I hate withdrawal montages, but probably the only thing more annoying is actually witnessing withdrawal (have you ever seen someone go through withdrawal?) so, okay. Vicodin-free, he tries to check himself out, only to find that while he's technically free to leave, he doesn't get back his medical license until the chief psychiatrist at the hospital writes him a note.
He's then put on a random ward with a collection of random crazies. And I use this term deliberately. Because they are all Hollywood!Crazy, diagnosable by a single glance, an uttered phrase, or, in some cases, what they don't say. But there's the paranoid guy who's twitchy, the manic guy who raps, the depressed girl who tugs at her long sleeves to cover up her slit wrists, the anorexic guy who won't eat, the silent girl who stares creepily straight ahead. The doctors act like camp counsellors, cheerfully announcing, "group time!" Regardless of the specific mental illness, the treatment is the same: talking about your feelings AA-style, and pills.
House, being still in-character for the beginning of the episode, predictably tries to raise hell, and that's where we get our Cuckoo's Nest parody. It ought to be funny, but it's just painful. The other patients have no character beyond the clichés of their various illnesses, and they are as easily led around as children, be it in open revolt or covert schemes. The "twist," such that it is, is that instead of Nurse Ratched, House's antagonist is an intelligent and well-meaning doctor who outsmarts him and only wants the best for his patients, even though at least one has seen no improvement for a decade.
The moral of the episode is ghastly: Be good, follow the rules, and everything will be okay. House's "cure" is that he needs to cooperate with the nice doctor and learn to connect with people again (which he does by having an affair with the married friend of one of his patients). And take pills. Which makes no sense, as I don't think SSRIs do anything to prevent hallucinations. But then, another patient is cured after she opens a music box, so who knows. Didn't this show do its research at some point?
It's brutal to watch fictional portrayals of mental illness, particularly when one has struggled with mental illness for a decade. I suppose I'm lucky in that I'm pretty functional. On most days, I win and depression loses. It used to be the other way around. And having lived with depression still defines me to some degree. But you can't tell from looking at me. I don't have the sort of shorthand one sees every time a mentally ill character appears on TV or in a movie. Part of the cruelty of mental illness is its invisibility.
It's brutal to watch fictional portrayals of mentally ill people because these portrayals tend to re-enforce one of a few narratives. Mentally ill people are beautiful sacred oracles into a greater truth who need to be freeeeeee (the anti-psychiatry narrative favoured by the left and most sci-fi/fantasy; see also why I have problems with Cuckoo's Nest). Mentally ill people are mental children who need to be cared for and protected from themselves (the liberal narrative; my problem with this episode, mainly). Mentally ill people are faking it or weak and just need to get their shit together (the conservative narrative; why James Frey deserves to be beaten with a trout). Nowhere does the person living with mental illness get their own story, their own interests or personality or beliefs. The person is the sum of their (visible, highly stylized) illness. And the story is praised for its depth and daring.
Shorter
sabotabby: I might be paranoid, but you never see me twitching at invisible UFOs.
