You know, there's something to be said for pessimism.

Over the years, I - a consummately loyal fan - have been savaged by the people who are the powers that be in myriad ways. They sent away my favorites; they wrote in characters who had no damn business being there; they screwed with the ones who remained; and they fucked up the one who came back. Seriously, it's enough to make any fan want to get in a car and drive off a bridge sometimes. Or at least, to passionately wish for the return of Lance Gentile, Carol Flint, Lydia Woodward, Mimi Leder, and Neal Baer. And then change the channel.

The danger of jumping the shark is ever-present, and it gets more and more likely with every episode. Why? Simply because this show has been on the air for SO LONG. It's hard to come up with new things that aren't contrived. It's hard to recycle old things without offending the old guard. Like I said, there's something to be said for pessimism. In its most basic form, it's a defense mechanism. I've had my hopes crushed too many times to be stupid enough to risk being Mary Sunshine. So this time, when I sat down in front of the television, I gnawed nervously at my sock and thought of that Jackson Browne song that says, "I'm so tired of all this circling and all these glimpses of the end; you know it's useless to pretend." Therefore, I reasoned with my inner self, no matter what happens, I'm ahead. I'll feel validated if it wasn't worth hoping for, and happy if it was. Win-win.

Human error can only account for so much;

Everyone occasionally loses their touch.

When the pitfalls are many and the options few,

What on earth is a poor ER writer to do?

Well, they could try learning from their mistakes. I'm reminded of that saying: "If I betray you once, it is my fault. If I betray you twice, it is your fault." Translation: don't do the same silly, self-defeating things over and over again. For example, there are now ten main characters again - Carter, Weaver, Lewis, Kovac, Lockhart, Gallant, Chen, Pratt, Corday, and Romano - which takes storyline away from everyone. (This looks eerily like season seven, an observation that makes my first impulse to drop everything and run.) They had a pitiful season finale last year, and carried it over to the premiere. They've relied on their editors a little too much - and been disappointed. Their storylines are more and more farfetched, and the characters each seem to be isolated in a little bubble of unbreakable Teflon. So began the premiere; with one of my greatest fears being realized, as ER went global. Central African Republic, Germany, Atlanta, and London! Wide-angle view! "Look!" I could almost hear them say, pointing proudly to the finished product that was Chaos Theory. "We've integrated a worldwide perspective into  a television drama; now isn't that wonderful? Doesn't it show that we're concerned with larger issues, and with the effective portrayal of how our characters' lives intersect with other people around the world? Huh? Huh?"

Wait, I need a judges' ruling on this. Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzt - NOPE! Sorry.

The very reason that ER spoke to so many people was that it addressed the global issues of pain, sorrow, joy, triumph, and courage in the face of adversity on a localized, human basis - a hospital. Therein lies the drama. Somebody, please, remind them of this. Slip a note under their doors at night. ("Dear Producers/Writers/Directors/Editors, if you can't think of ways to write this drama elegantly and with grace, you should let the show get the heck out of Dodge while it still can. Love, the fans.") Or better yet, have them watch selected episodes of The West Wing - for example, the episode that aired last Wednesday night - because Aaron Sorkin knows how to showcase the drama in everyday life, and he does it exquisitely. Anyway, this episode had a couple of laudable moments, courtesy of Laura Innes, Sherry Stringfield, and Paul McCrane - and because we haven't bobbed Anspaugh and Chuny (now if we could only locate Randi and Conni...). If you ask me - it was crap. Pure and simple. But why don't I back up a little. Start with the things that I did like; namely, Laura Innes, Sherry Stringfield, and Paul McCrane.

Oh, how I love my Dr. Weaver. I may have redirected my undying affection for Carol onto Kerry, because she was fantastic, and guess what? She always is. She consistently delivers phenomenal acting and when given the chance, phenomenal directing. She was Kick-Ass Kerry the Enforcer, showing us her tigress-like protective streak when she told the woman from the CDC that she'd have to stop the replantation team by force. She was supportive of her staff, telling Susan that she'd kicked ass. (A word on the supposed ass-kicking: The whole damn thing was a mess. No one kicked ass. But it was nice to hear Kerry say it to Susan, anyway. The two toughest ladies finally putting aside their age-old competition and fighting the same fight together; music to my ears.) And finally, she was compassionate, visiting Romano in the hospital, giving him water to drink, asking after his prognosis, and most importantly, respecting his autonomy to make his own decision regarding his treatment. Do you know what that reminded me of? When she took care of Morganstern after his MI in season 4; and comparing anything to season 4 is the highest praise that I can deliver. Laura Innes, I bow down to you. You can morph third-rate writing into a performance worth watching, and as icing on the cake, you looked gorgeous. I want more. More.

Sherry also delivered a strong performance, mostly because she had the select few scenes in this episode that qualified as medical drama. Susan Lewis is a devoted and talented doctor, which she proved again on Thursday night as she ran down the steps to find the saline bag, performing CPR even as her patient crashed beyond all hope, disappointed and exhausted when she couldn't save him. You could feel for this woman, trying her darndest to do her job in the middle of an uncontrolled and terrifying situation. This is the stuff that ER is made of. The moments in the darkened hallways, searching for supplies and crash carts and finally, sitting in defeat next to the stalled elevator, were REAL in the midst of everything else that was so fake. Smallpox, my ass. Monkeypox, my patutty. Quarantine, my ascending colon. Contraband pizza, my left boob. Susan's moments weren't by any means her best, but they weren't horrendous, and for that she deserves to be singled out. (I enjoyed seeing Old Susan in the credits, too - with her long, chestnut hair, and that intense expression.) On the other hand, how did she get to Barbados? Did her fear of flying somehow evaporate? Continuity, people, continuity. It's all in the details. ::kicks Orman and Gemmill, the writers for this episode::

And finally, the tour-de-force of the episode goes to Paul McCrane. Romano has never been one of my favorite characters. I love to hate him more than I love him, but his beauty as a character is that he is abrasive enough to create conflict and still has human moments in between the ones where you want to throttle him with his own gold stethoscope (a brilliant touch - the apotheosis of self-importance). But why does he have to be damaged? Hasn't there been enough damage? They've made people drug addicts. They've made them alcoholics. They've given them abandonment issues and commitment issues. They've given them brain tumors and AIDS. They've made them wrestle with their sexuality. Now, they've made them maimed. Have I missed anything? Ah, for just one episode where not one of the doctors has to suffer severe physical or emotional trauma in order to make it good. Just one! That is all I ask! But with regard to the maiming, I was not prepared for just how disgusting it would be when his arm was suddenly severed above the elbow. I cringed; special effects and makeup departments scored here where they failed with the smallpox. Nice filming, too - the slow-motion was actually used to good effect, and the distortion of Susan and Luka as they worked frantically to save him was appropriate. But the real star of that moment was not the filming, and it wasn't the event - it was Robert Romano himself, and holy moly, did Paul McCrane ever step up to the challenge. He even managed to get in a groan of dismay when he figured out where he was: "Oh God...I'm at County." I laughed. Then, when Weaver came to see him, he quipped, "I signed the third quarter budget reports. You know, we should evacuate the hospital every year for the money we're saving." You know why this was good? Because that's Romano, and he's in there, and he's fighting. I just wish they hadn't felt the need to injure him. It's almost Wells-ian in its syrupyness. (Yes, I realize I just made up two words in that last sentence, but you know what? Eat it.) While Paul McCrane gave armlessness a dignity that it has never had before, as the tail rotor slashed through Romano's flesh, I couldn't avoid the awful, sinking feeling that I had just watched my favorite television show jump the shark. Now that I've said what I never thought I'd say, I'll keep the rest short and sweet.

Elizabeth Corday - I saw a touch of the old Lizzie, but not enough to hold my interest. They'll have to do better than that. And the hospital where she was stationed looked weirdly like the one where Romano was recovering, which in its turn looked weirdly like the set of Presidio Med, John Wells's newest endeavor with Madame La Woodward on CBS. Ha. This is like what they do in college cafeterias: they have blueberry pancakes for breakfast one morning, blueberry muffins at lunch, and blueberry cake at dinner, and expect me not to notice. News flash: I ain't that stupid. Warner Brothers, you are busted again.

Gallant - not nearly enough screen time, but Sharif Atkins was the subject of the best character shot of the episode as he ran to help Susan.

Pratt - appallingly written, but not badly acted. I've said it before and I'll say it again: Mekhi Phifer is talented, but his character is a quasi-Benton, and I do mean a quasi-Benton. Benton, while unlikeable, was a consistent and complex character. Pratt? Not so much. And his agent must be the hardest screw in the business, because to get him third billing after four episodes is some pretty sweet negotiating.

Chen - I'm not even going to go there. The sooner they get rid of Ming-Na, the better. Shelve her on some Lifetime sitcom...oh wait. They already tried that. Damn.

Luka - erm...I liked the line "either you did or you didn't" - I like anything that points out what a crap doctor Chen is, because it makes me say, "see, I'm right!" - but other than that, as pointless as ever. Maybe he's there to be eye candy...?

Carter - Carter, my Carter, my lovely and consummately adorable Carter: this was painful. I didn't mind that you delivered Mark's lines verbatim in The Letter; in fact, I loved it. I let it slide that you lifted Mark's stethoscope, and I even thought it was sweet. I think you look hotter in the scrubs than Dr. Greene ever did. But you are not allowed to steal his rolly chair. That's not continuity. That's rape. Furthermore, why did you irritate me this episode? Why didn't I love you and feel all fuzzy when I watched you, like I usually do? I'll tell you why. Because of the following dialogue.

"I'm just saying that there's an inherent unpredictability about everything. Evolution, life, love, relationships...no, I'm just saying, you're chaos to me, the unknown. And I'm chaos to you...I'm just saying that there's a risk in everything you do, but don't you want to stack the odds in your favor?"

Call me crazy but I think he said "I'm just saying" at least three times in that speech. I diagnose a serious case of diarrhea of the mouth. I'm just saying that it was annoying. I'm just saying that it wasn't deep and it wasn't touching. I'm just saying that if he says that one more time, I'm going to write some hate mail.

Abby - Rockin' the gurney with Dr. Carter wasn't exactly what I had in mind for a loving and heartfelt romance, although I was glad she didn't dip into the hospital contraceptives (NO MORE BABIES). I'd prefer to see those two actually talking. So that the relationship can be different from the travesty that was Luka/Abby. But did they talk? No. When he talked, she wasn't listening. Granted, he was babbling like some sort of blithering idiot (Elise thinks: "Carter! Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut UP!"), but he's done that before and she listened then, so what gives? When she asked him to talk to her, the very next thing she did was walk away, after an oh-so-convincing "I'm not broken." Yeah, *this* is showing a lot of potential. How annoying, to say nothing of the fact that it's incredibly, infuriatingly disappointing. We know they have chemistry, we know they have communication, and we know they care about each other a lot. We know this because we've seen it over the course of two and a half years. (For example, you could have cut the air between them with a knife in The Letter and Sailing Away and Thy Will Be Done. But Chaos Theory? Don't make me laugh.) And Abby? Lose the blonde. Now. 'Cause it looks gray, despite the best efforts of some people to convince you otherwise. Are you really going to trust what Chen and Stan the Can tell you? Right, because *there* are two opinions you can count on. I wouldn't trust Chen to clip my toenails, and Stan - heh.

One last general observation: there's a serious pitfall that they need to avoid at all costs, which is that they now have several characters who, oddly enough, resemble the Big Six that they started with, and it's going to be extremely seductive to turn them into the ghosts of ER past. Luka was always a razor's edge from being EuroDoug, and if they're not careful, it'll happen. Pratt is the Quasi-Benton. Abby has the Grand Romance and the nursing style of Carol Hathaway; Carter is a head of hair and a pair of glasses shy of Mark Greene (and he stole his rolly chair! Sacrilege! Sacrilege!); Gallant is the earnest echo of Carter himself, and Susan needs no reinvention. So far, the writers were able to keep it together enough to make these characters distinct. But if Abby gets a perm, Carter treats any pregnant women with eclampsia, Gallant dates a blond chick and snags a surgical sub-internship, or Pratt is forced to put his ailing mother in a nursing home, that's it. Forget it, it's through. Orman, you can chalk this one up with The Dance We Do and Rescue Me; it isn't in the same league as Of Past Regret and Future Fear, Sailing Away, or The Letter. Not even in the same ballpark. Furthermore, not on the same continent. It tied up the messy plot of Lockdown - a bonus, and I hope to NEVER see anything remotely resembling this nonsensical shit revisited - brought back the grieving Dr. Corday, maimed poor Dr. Romano, and generally did nothing to convince me that this season is going to be any better than the last. Or even, God forbid, the season before it.

Well, we played Rank The Finales. How about Rank The Premieres? (These are in order of worst to best.)

9. Day For Knight (s.5) Bo-o-o-o-ring.

8. Chaos Theory (s.9) Chaos is right. What did W. B. Yeats say? "Things fall apart; the center cannot hold. Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world." 

7. Homecoming (s.7) The high school football theme, for some inexplicable reason, always makes me laugh. Although Carter's drug rehab was nicely done.

6. Four Corners (s.8) At least this one had quality Carter. And he wasn't hooked on fentanyl.

5. Ambush (s.4) Hehe. The live schtick was the forerunner of the Third Watch crossover.

4. Leave It To Weaver (s.6) Nothing wrong with this one. Nothing great, but nothing wrong.

3. Welcome Back, Carter (s.2) Funny, witty, and classic.

2. Dr. Carter, I Presume (s.3) I could watch this one over and over again - and as soon as my DVDs come on Wednesday of next week, I will. Carter's first day as a doctor really had me feeling it with every fiber of my being. Plus, he got naked from the waist up. Now how could any red-blooded female not love that? Nudge-nudge, wink-wink.

1. 24 Hours, a.k.a. The Longest Day, a.k.a. The Pilot (s.1) It don't get much better than that.

Basically, this should have been the season finale for last year. But it wasn't. It was the premiere of season nine. Exercise caution. There are sharks in the water, and I happen to think there was jumping last week; I feel this so strongly that I considered not bothering to write this review, as it required me to watch it again and I really, really, really did not want to. Ah well, I suppose time will tell. As always.

Damn, now I have to go find a new sock. This one's already in shreds.

"Do you like your job? Do you want to keep it? Well tell Jonesy that I'm bringing four patients, all of whom I expect to be treated like his own mother without the inappropriate touching." -- Romano

"Ooh God. I'm at County." -- Romano (You know, I've had that same feeling, Rocket.)

"Let him wake up from the narcotics and ask him."

"It might be too late."

"Then you wait. It's his decision." -- Weaver and Random Doctor. (In case anyone was wondering where Gallant learned the authority in his voice when he said "I say we wait" in Secrets and Lies, now you know. Good stuff.)

"I signed the third quarter budget reports. You know, we should evacuate the hospital every year for the money we're saving." -- Romano (Bitter and ironic humor - but well-placed.)