By Curt Schleier

Sophie (Mia Wasikowska) Dr. Paul Weston’s (Gabriel Byrne) Wednesday patient is IN TREATMENT because her mother thinks she attempted suicide.  Twice.

Sophie, 16, is a potential Olympic gymnast.  She’s the U.S. Junior Champ and has been at it for about a decade.  But this is not a happy time for her; she seems very troubled.  Her parents are divorced.  Her mother, whom she lives with, doesn’t seem to support her athletic ambition.  And when she wants to contact her old man, she has to call 411, because she doesn’t remember his latest telephone number.  But she says, “He’s always there for me.”

Sophie is in a cast, the remnants of a serious automobile accident.  She was riding her bike when she was hit by a car and went flying into the street bike and all.  And this is the second time that she’s been involved in this kind of an accident, hence her mother’s concern.

Complicating matters a bit is that Weston is having problems with his own daughter, who is one of Sophie’s classmates.

In fact, though, it shouldn’t be much of a complication.  A high school drop out ought to be able to figure this one out.  Clearly, Sophie is afraid of the Olympics.  She doesn’t want to compete and possibly lose, disappointing the father who is never there and justifying the mom who feels she could be spending her time on better things.

But could it be that easy?  That’s part of the allure of this series, which is kind of a mystery with all the clues laid out every week a little at a time.


And there’s another mystery.  In what field of study did Dr. Weston get PhD?  Could it be auto mechanics?  At one point, in attempting to draw Sophie out, he asks whether she thinks about dying.  She doesn’t respond, so he reassures her:

“Everyone thinks about death and imagines how it will come to this.”

Actually, I never had – until that moment, when I saw my sad conclusion flash in front of me.  I’m watching still another show about psychobabble.  I look for the remote, but I can’t find it.  I must change the channel.  I must. I must.  My heart begins to race, and I feel as though it will explode out of my chest.  And then it does and I hold it in my hand and watch it.

I wonder what that means.  Eight more weeks of IN TREATMENT, and I should know.