‘Help—My Eyes are Bleeding Out of My Skull and My Brain is Seeping Out My Ears!’: a review of the HBO series “In Treatment”

By James Spica

I have never been to a psychologist and indeed hope the need never arises, but it mustn’t be said I harbor any acute dislike for them. I wouldn’t have any occasion for such dislike. So when I suggest that “In Treatment” might be more boring than the “Angel” series (a show intertwined with “Buffy the Vampire Slayer”, following a group of ghost-buster-private-detectives), which to those who have witnessed “Angel” might seem a strong statement, it is not out of any dislike for psychology or psychologists. Nor do I think that my disgust of this show is born of ignorance of the profession. It is just plain bad.

In Treatment is a dramatic series composed completely around the conflicts between a psychiatrist, Paul, and a slew of his patients. It was originally adapted from a very similar Israeli show, which was evidently quite popular (which may come as a mystery to many, certainly to me).

This show lacks excitement in a most painful manner. It is difficult to comprehend why anyone, save those in a psychological career, would find it interesting. The show is comprised of half-hour-long psychoanalytical dialogues and nothing more. There is rarely even a change of venue (setting—Paul’s office and home are the two main locations). The only variety, in fact, is that of specific problems and emotions of each patient, ranging from a cocky Navy pilot to a wounded young gymnast. Beyond that? No variety of camera-work, no solid plot. In short, an enormous, stifling void that swallows the soul of the viewer.

Much of the point of viewing art is to find a connection with it: viewers choose art that they can relate to. I am sure this is where any appeal for this show comes from. But that being said, there is a stronger concern—everybody has problems. Everybody is aware of this fact (at least most people are), so simply relating to the audience on such a basis is ennui incarnate. Many people can relate to the Laura’s (the young woman who is in love with Paul) predicament. I’m sure some can relate to the other conflicts, and many people can most certainly relate to Paul’s myriad of troubles such as relationship decay and dissolution with work. But there needs to be something more. Heaven knows what this is, but the reliance of a show’s intrigue solely upon the audience’s ability to relate is a boring series.

The saddest thing is that, because of its regularity (it is aired Monday through Friday in keeping with the patients’ appointment schedules, as if we’re seeing it directly out of Paul’s palm-pilot) and relate-ability, the show seems to be meant as some strange sort of psychiatric treatment in itself. Perhaps it is meant only to give satisfaction on the same basis as that of a session with Paul. Whatever the case, this fact is a frightening prospect for our culture and the television’s grip on us. The Reading of books is therapeutic, folks—give it a try.