This week, Pop Vultures is taking a look at returning shows and offering snap judgments on their new seasons. Today, it’s House’s turn.

1. Compared to the previous season(s): House really shouldn’t be interesting anymore. It’s been trotting out the same formula each week for the last four years: someone with an obscure — and frequently disgusting — ailment appears at Princeton-Plainsboro Hospital and is poked and prodded by House’s team. The doctors incorrectly guess the disease between 3-5 times, the patient gets steadily worse, and just when the poor guinea pig is ready to kick the bucket, House has a brainstorm and the patient is cured. Repeat next week. Shouldn’t we be sick of this by now?

And yet, we’re not. The writers continually find new ways to keep potentially stale plots interesting. Last season, they messed everything up by bringing in a whole new set of doctors for House to toy with, and it worked. Wilson was given a love interest that wasn’t House, allowing for all sorts of character — and relationship — development between House and Wilson. The show actually went somewhere, rather than stagnating.

So far, this season has done an excellent job of continuing that development. They surprised us by having Wilson break up with House, which opened up new directions for both their characters. While this season’s changes haven’t been as dramatic as the previous season, they still show promise. Mark: B

2. Returning characters: Well, they’re all great, aren’t they? Wilson is showing a backbone, something I’ve waited four seasons to see. Cuddy is still trying to outsmart House and even succeeding on rare occasions. The new doctors are actually becoming three-dimensional characters, with 13 coping with her own diagnosis and Taub’s personal life being explored a bit. Much like last season, Foreman, Chase and Cameron have very little to do, but rumor has it that they will soon be incorporated into the show a bit more. As for the reason most people actually watch the show — House himself — he is still as dark, rude, brilliant and broken as ever. Mark: A-

3. New characters: So far, we’ve only got one, but he’s excellent. Michael Weston has come on board as Lucas Douglas, House’s personal PI and rival for Cuddy’s affection. Though I dislike the whole love triangle that’s being set up, I do love this character. He’s clever enough to be a worthy adversary — and friend — for House, and charming enough to believably woo Cuddy. Sure, he’s a rebound guy after Wilson, but I’m hoping he sticks around for a bit. Mark: A

4. Current plots: This is the hardest one to judge, since the procedural nature of the show means that the underlying plots are revealed slowly over time. The disintegration of House and Wilson’s friendship was a long time coming, and I’m eager to see how each character copes without the other — and whether Wilson’s harsh breakup words cause any changes in House himself. I will agree to tolerate the romantic subplot so long as nothing ever comes of it, since I’m convinced that Cuddy is too smart to ever actually date someone as broken and cruel as House. Writers, I’m warning you now: if they ever get together, this grade will drop at least two full letters. As for the remaining characters, their storylines might not be particularly compelling, but the actors are handling them well, and I’m happy to see where they go with time. And perhaps that’s why this show earns such a high grade — I have enough faith in it to give it that time. Mark: A-

Overall grade: A-

What do you think of this season of House so far? What grade do you think it deserves?

House Trained

When people find out that I’m a TV blogger, the first question, sadly, is never, “Wow! How did you get so lucky? That’s what I always wanted to be when I grew up.” No, nine times out of ten they cock their head to the side, look at me as if I’m a bit simple and say, “Huh. You must watch a lot of TV, then.”

Well, yes. It is rather part of the job description, and I still feel as if I’m only watching about a third of the shows I’d like to write about. It’s worse now that the fall season has kicked off, since I constantly have several episodes waiting to be viewed. Right now, Weeds and House are still sitting on my hard drive, hoping I find some time this week to pay them a visit. Of course, by the time I do, I’ll be days late on writing about them, and then there will be brand new shows demanding my attention, and clearly, no matter how much TV I watch, I will never be caught up.

I have, however, developed a system. Sadly, it doesn’t work on shows like House, which I actually want to sit down and enjoy, but it’s rather effective with a surprising number of shows. Basically, I multitask like a mother. I cook dinner during America’s Next Top Model, do sit-ups during Prison Break, and knit scarves for my entire family during Greek. The more predictable or poorly written a show is, the more I can accomplish. Hell, I finished reading War and Peace during last season’s American Idol. It’s become my personal litmus test for quality: if I actually sit on my sofa for the entire hour, it’s pretty good. If I feel a sudden need to vacuum — not so much.

It also helps me discover my percentage shows — the ones where I only care about a certain percentage of the stories. During season 2 of Heroes, I’d do the dishes during anything with an Emo Wonder Twin, stopping to watch when Noah come on screen. I’d try to stay in the room during the terrible Irish story, but that was only on the off-chance that Peter took his shirt off.

The Sarah Connor Chronicles is another percentage show. If they’re all sitting around arguing, I’m writing email, only pausing when Cameron starts kicking ass. During Grey’s Anatomy, I might still care about Christina, but I’ll be taking out the garbage the minute Izzy appears onscreen. These days, Prison Break is basically a 3% show, one which I have on in the background. I remember what happens only through the psychic link I share with my TV.

Yesterday, I watched the second episode of Fringe, and I’m sorry to say that this one is already a percentage show for me. For all the hype that surrounded its premiere, it is, sadly, not that good. The show’s tone is far too serious for its ludicrous plots, the lead female character is dull and forgettable (seriously, I don’t even remember her name), and I refuse to get drawn into another JJ Abrams conspiracy that features a lot of nouns with definite articles (i.e., The Pattern). I saw where that went with Alias, thank you, and I won’t make that mistake again.

And yet, Dr. Walter Bishop is simply awesome. I did not realize how much TV was in need of a mad scientist before he appeared on my screen, and now I want an entire Dr. Walter show. He could have a talk show, solving people’s problems through random non sequiteurs, or a game show, where he mocked people’s mundane knowledge (”No, no, no. The answer is that people live for SIX hours after death. What are they teaching in schools these days?”). I’d watch him milk the cow, or argue with his son, or just talk to himself for the better part of an hour, and quite happily, too.

Unfortunately, Dr. Walter is only on screen for, maybe, 25% of the time, and so Fringe has quickly fallen into the category of “Shows that help me keep a clean house.” It’s not a terrible show, and I feel it’s one I need to watch to be a well-informed TV blogger — I just can’t be bothered to watch all of it.

Has Fringe grabbed 100% of your attention? And what are your percentage shows?

On the Fringe of Quality TV

I’m having a very hard time forging a relationship with Mad Men. Sure, it’s an excellent show. It’s been nominated for just about every television award in existence, and deservedly so. The writing is smart, the acting is strong across the board, and the period details are flawless. In fact, it’s hard to find anything wrong with the show. In my defense, I do keep trying to make it work. Each Monday morning, I hit iTunes, happily download the latest episode and then…forget to watch it.

I’ve been forgetting to watch Mad Men for several weeks now. It’s not like my viewing schedule is completely booked up, either; lots of my favorite fall shows haven’t even premiered yet. Besides, if I have time to watch America’s Next Top Model, I must have time to watch Mad Men, right?

And yet, somehow, each week, I forget about the new episode sitting quietly on my hard drive. When I do watch the show, I really like it and plan to see it again, but somehow, it always slips my mind. No matter how great the show is, it isn’t compelling enough to drag me back week after week. Sure, I want to know if Peggy ever breaks into the boys’ club of advertising, but for the most part, I don’t really care if the characters get what they want. Hell, I don’t actually <i>know</i> what they want, because in this world of repression, most of the characters don’t know what they want, either.

Mad Men is a subtle study of an era, a slow reveal of the widening cracks in society that led to the vast changes of the late 60s. While the characters are oblivious to the upcoming changes, the viewer watches the slow increase of tension, knowing that the explosion is yet to come. However, unlike just about every other show out there, Mad Men is not about the explosion; it’s about watching people slowly load the gun they’ll be using to shoot themselves in the foot.

The show is more about quiet, passive desperation than active searching, and that’s part of its beauty. Unfortunately, it’s also one of the reasons I keep forgetting to watch. I know that, each week, I’ll be treated to an hour of quality television, but I also know that so little will happen that it’s okay to wait a week or two to get caught up. Basically, it’s the television equivalent of dating the strong, silent type, and apparently, after a few dates, I want someone I can gab with.

It not you, Mad Men; it’s me. I just can’t seem to commit. Maybe we need some couple’s therapy. Fortunately, I know there are lots of other people out there happy to declare their love, so I’m not too worried about you. You’ll be fine.

What about you? What are the best shows out there that you keep forgtting to watch — and is Mad Men one of them?

Why I Can’t Commit to Mad Men

This two-part drama tells the story of Tom McConnell, a handsome young executive of Arrow Oil, who seems to have only just realised that global warming is this whole big thing and that perhaps he should do something about it. Taking the role of Tom’s good angel is Holly, played by Neve Campbell (better known as ‘that one from Party of Five‘), the head of Arrow’s renewable energy department. The devil on Tom’s other shoulder is Mack, played by Bradley Whitford (Josh!) in his trademark know-it-all, wise-cracking style. Mack is an oil lobbyist and shady fixer for Arrow, who is not above ordering the assassination of geologists who are out to prove the oil industry might have something to do with permafrost melting.

And so the drama unfolds. Arrow is the target of a law suit from a group of Inuits who blame the company for the disintegration of their lands; Oxford scientists sound off about impending doom to anybody who will listen; and Mack dismisses the whole global warming debate as ‘an inconvenient poop’ (hah, see what he did there?) and encourages Tom to blame the whole thing on sun spot activity. But then, an Inuit protester sets herself on fire in front of Tom, and he accidentally sleeps with Holly while (implausibly) attending the Inuit’s funeral, and the whole thing descends into farce.

What started out as a promising drama about a controversial, emotive and complex topic quickly becomes a convoluted and wholly unconvincing story involving government assassins, spies, international blackmail and marital infidelity. Even while giving us all this, the BBC still manages to fall back on its favourite trope - blaming it all on the Americans. The ‘get the USA to sign up to Kyoto or the world will end’ point was made repeatedly throughout, so everybody watching from their nice cosy British homes could relax and stop feeling so guilty about driving to work - it’s all the fault of the Yanks anyway, thank goodness.

I really wanted to like Burn Up. I love Bradley Whitford, for starters (I even watched Studio 60 all the way through to the bitter end), and the BBC is usually excellent at producing gritty and thought-provoking dramas about difficult and disturbing topics. I expected this show to be a triumph, but it was a shambles - a soap opera on a global scale which somehow managed to use an unnecessarily convoluted plot to lamentably simplify a very complex issue. Clearly I should stick to reality shows - there’s much less room for disappointment.

If you too love Bradley Whitford beyond all reason, or you’re not American and want to know why that means you don’t have to worry about global warming at all, then you should catch Burn Up on the BBC’s iPlayer. Or wait for it to be repeated on a television near you, as it no doubt very soon will be.

Burn Up Fails to Ignite

I was born in the 70s. I drank Tab, and bought records, and wore frighteningly huge jeans. My family would go to potluck block parties, kids rode their bikes throughout the neighborhood, and we all thought that Jello salad satisfied the “fruit” requirement of a square meal. In that way, I recognize the world in Swingtown, a world that looks just how I remember it. That is, until everyone starts taking off their clothes. I don’t remember that 70s at all (which is probably for the best, considering that I was six when the decade drew to a close). However, after viewing the first episode, it is a world I plan to visit again.

Swingtown is CBS’s entry into the original summer programming schedule. It’s an interesting show, a strange cross between the groovy goodness of Boogie Nights and the emotional brittleness of The Ice Storm — with a liberal helping of Wonder Years nostalgia topping it all off. Perhaps the strangest thing about the show is that it’s on CBS, a network that has no aversion to dismembered body parts (see its CSI catalog), but has remained nearly virginal in regards to sexual matter. Suddenly, it’s airing a primetime show that happily features orgies, partner-swapping and implied teenage sex, in addition to such 70s treats as quaaludes and coke. The Parents Television Council is already in a tizzy, I assure you.

The promise of naked, writhing bodies and the controversy surrounding the show drew a fair number of viewers for last week’s premiere, despite the show receiving only fair to middling reviews — proof that you can never underestimate the prurient interest of the American people. And this is a good thing, because the show is better than the initial reviews would suggest, and it has potential to be a damn good show.

It’s easy enough to comment on the strangely unerotic orgy scene (hey, it’s hard to make muttonchops look sexy in 2008), or the coked-out neighbor, and to think that the show is geared toward the lowest common denominator. However, much like Big Love, it seems to have less interest in exploring the details of this, well, unconventional lifestyle choice and more in using it as a springboard to explore universal human emotions of love, jealousy, longing and, yes, lust.

I may remember the 70s as a time of roller skates and disco, but sociologists tell tales of a darker world, one of people trying to find their way when stuck between the traditional family values of previous decades and the more permissive values that emerged from 60s counterculture. Swingtown takes a fairly literal view of this conflict, plopping traditional families and marriages into the heart of a sex-crazed, anything-goes neighborhood. Here, the fact that it’s on CBS may actually work in its favor. The show cannot hope to titillate through excessive amounts of bare flesh or gratuitous sex scenes. Instead of finding drama in the bedrooms, it mines everyone’s reactions to the sexual liberation, and the fallout that’s sure to ensue.

The show offers strong acting across the board. Jack Davenport and Molly Parker convincingly and subtly portray the complex emotions that would inspire them to open their marriage, a feat more remarkable for the script’s lack of subtlety. Grant Show and Lana Parrilla have a bit less to work with, as the confident pros of partner swapping, but they convincingly swagger around the pilot and are entirely believable in their seduction of the neighborhood noobs. The only weak spot is Mirriam Schor, though that fault may lie less with the actor than the script. Her shrill Puritan is the show’s biggest misstep, as her character’s strident moral judgments only make the sex-and-drugs lifestyle far more appealing. Simplistic characters have no place on a show that seeks to deal with complicated moral issues, and this women is in dire need of some character development.

Currently, Swingtown only has a 13-episode summer run, and if it continues to sit on the fence as to whether it’s a good-time guilty pleasure or a thoughtful exploration of the sexual mores and contradictions of the time, 13 episodes will be plenty. If, however, it manages to pick a side or — better yet — seamlessly blend the two, we may find ourselves wanting to visit Swingtown long after the summer heat has subsided.

If nothing else, at least it will teach a new generation how to do the Hustle. Some things are timeless, after all.

Swingtown airs on CBS, Thursdays at 10:00pm

Swinging Through the Summer

Both House and Bones went out with a big old bang, and definitely got people talking. Unfortunately, in one case it was more bitching and whining than talking, and a prime example of a show that relied on short-term shock to the show’s long-term detriment. The other case was a heart-wrenching ending that thoughtfully shifted the show’s dynamic. To find out which is which, follow the jump to the spoilers.

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Finale Thoughts: Bones and House

Do the many unanswered questions and convoluted plots on Lost drive you to drink? Pop Vultures has your back, with an easy game you can play along with at home. However, we do not take any responsibility if you have to phone in sick the next day — this game is not for the faint of liver.

The rules of the Lost drinking game are far simpler than the show itself, though they do require a well-stocked liquor cabinet.

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Tipple Tuesday: Lost

I’m still reeling from the penultimate episode of The Wire and torn between excitement and dread for Sunday’s final installment. Excitement because, of course, it’s the final hour of one of the best goddamn TV shows ever, and dread for pretty much the same reason. The final hour. This is it. No more. It’s all over. Hold me?

Being the final episode ever is cause for sorrow, but it’s also cause to raise a glass and celebrate the five brilliant seasons we were given. While raising that glass, why not play along with the Pop Vultures final episode drinking game? It’s part of a new semi-regular Tuesday feature, inspired by a) my slight obsession with alliterative titles and b) my combined love of television and booze.

I’m starting slowly, though, with lots of sips. No one should be completely hammered while watching this sure-to-be brilliant hour. You ought to get drunk when it’s over.

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Tipple Tuesday: Drunk on The Wire

Right, people. Let’s talk Lost.

I must first confess that I am not one of the Lost faithful. I like it well enough, and some episodes have been incredible. On the whole however, I find the questions to answers ratio frustratingly high and wish, just once, they’d wrap up a storyline in a somewhat conclusive manner (and no, Nicky and Paolo don’t count). I’ve given up on the show more than once, but it somehow always lures me back in. Shirtless Sawyer may have something to do with that.

However, even more powerful than half-naked Sawyer was the producers’ promise to wrap up the entire story within 48 episodes. There was a plan! Some may claim there’s been a plan all along, but considering that Michael Emerson (Ben) was only supposed to be in a handful of episodes in the second season and is now a major player, I am dubious. Still, the show clearly had an endgame in place now, and while rambling, love-triangle obsessed Lost causes me to reach for the vodka bottle, focused, urgent Lost is plenty intoxicating on its own. In other words, I really like season 4.

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Questioning Lost

I’ve been trying to use the strike time as productively as possible, though. This does not mean that I’ve been diligently working out or cleaning my house. Don’t be silly. It means, of course, that I have been catching up on missed shows on DVD.

After getting up to date with The Wire in time for season 5, I decided to branch out from my beloved serial dramas for a bit and try one of those shows that I never would have watched if not for its rather vocal fans: Bones.

Bones is, in fact, just the kind of show I tend to avoid. I’m not a big fan of the procedural, having seen, in my life, a combined three episodes of the Law & Order or CSI franchises. I don’t care whodunit or how or why. I have no interest whatsoever in the inner workings of a forensics lab and, having worked in law offices, even less interest in the details of legal briefs. I don’t care how you dress it up; ex parte documents will never be glamorous. Other than House, I have never watched a single procedural on a regular basis, and even that I watch purely for House himself. The patients could all die horribly each episode and I really wouldn’t care.

The procedural aspect wasn’t the only strike against Bones. It also stars David Boreanaz, and when the show premiered, I’d just come off eight years of watching him play a vampire with a soul. I liked him in Buffy and Angel, sure, but to tell you the truth, I was not convinced he could actually act. I blame the Oirish accent he used in the Angel flashbacks for that misconception.

If you do like procedurals and David Boreanaz, you’re probably already watching the show, but if not, here are a few more reasons to check it out. The characters are all three-dimensional, unique and believable, which is more than a lot of shows can claim (Torchwood, I’m looking at you). The female lead, played by Emily Deschanel, with her intimidating IQ, fierce independence and mad forensic skillz, is arguably the strongest female representation on television today. The interpersonal drama is certainly present, but the emphasis on the case-of-the-week A-plot allows those relationships to develop slowly and naturally, rather than being forced for the sake of a ratings stunt (ahem, Grey’s Anatomy). Most surprisingly, the scripts actually reflect that these characters are PhDs working in a top-level forensics lab. They speak and act like really smart people, and not just when discussing their work. It’s a show that respects its audience’s intelligence, a rare gift in the current glut of reality TV.

While the strike still sucks in at least ninety-eight different ways, I am glad it allowed me the time to find this program. It’s one I’ll keep watching, even after the writers return to work.

Any other Bones fans out there? And has the strike given you the chance to discover any new shows?

Dem Bones, Dem Bones