Here we go again...

As I mentioned in an earlier post, “Sometimes Fox just isn’t that into me.” But I had begun to hope that things were looking up — after all, “Bones” and “Sarah Connor Chronicles” have been renewed, and word is that “Prison Break” might be back to its old self next year. Heck, they managed to talk Joss Whedon into coming back with a new show, which is nothing short of a miracle after what they did to “Firefly”.

And then they have to go and hurt me again.

Now, I realize that “New Amsterdam” would probably never have seen the light of day (or at least never aired completely) if there hadn’t been a writers’ strike. So I should probably be grateful to have gotten to see it at all. And I am grateful — for a show that could have been a horrible rehash of sci-fi clichés, “New Amsterdam” turned out to be a breath of fresh air on a TV landscape that’s too often cluttered with formulaic, recycled “concepts.”

I mean, sure, we’ve seen immortality dealt with many times over. (Highlander, anyone?) But somehow, the story of John Amsterdam, a 400-year-old New Yorker looking to become mortal, managed to bring something new to the table. Maybe it was the way the show looked at family — John only shares his secret with a few people, in many cases the children he has fathered over the centuries. Or maybe it was the way the show examined love; when John became immortal thanks to a Native American girl after arriving in the “new world,” he was told that he could only die after being united with “the one.” It’s a double-edged sword — making him open to finding love, but also causing him to doubt every relationship he has that doesn’t end his immortality. And of course, all of these relationships fail, as he inevitably watches the women he loves grow old and die.

But most of all, “New Amsterdam” was about what it meant to be human. We are all the sum of our experiences, and at four centuries old, John Amsterdam obviously has a lot more experience than the average person. Through flashbacks to different eras, we see the choices, events, and mistakes that shaped his life, and how they affect present-day events. While John is a good man, he is by no means perfect. We see good that he has done in his past — after all, he only became immortal in the first place because it was the only way the Native American girl could help him after he nearly died protecting her.

But we also see the bad. “New Amsterdam” examined the harm we can do to those we care about, whether it be with the best of intentions or because we’re so lost in our own pain. A 400-year life leaves room for many mistakes (alcoholism, petty crime, bad parenting, to name a few), but it also leaves a lot of room for redemption, if you can learn from your mistakes and try to be better.

Every week I watched “New Amsterdam,” I came to love it more, because it was about hope, about the possibility of becoming better than what we are. And, unfortunately, therein lies the irony — it aired on a network that often seems to have completely missed that lesson. Sure, Fox is the network that gave us “X-Files” and “House.” But it’s also the network that cancels truly innovative and genius shows well before their time (see “Wonderfalls,” “Firefly,” “Pasadena,” and many others), in favor of real gems like “The Simple Life,” “Temptation Island,” and “The Swan.”

When Rupert Murdoch first put the Fox network together, he said of the fourth network’s programming that, “The only rules that we will enforce on these programs is they must have taste, they must be engaging, they must be entertaining and they must be original.” And yet, we’re still subjected to hours upon end of humiliating footage of people with more guts than talent or sense each year when it’s time for “American Idol.”

I’m trying to keep an open mind, as this is “upfront” week in Hollywood, where the networks tell us about the new prospects for this fall. On the other hand, I’m also wondering if I should wait to watch Joss Whedon’s “Dollhouse” at some point in the future, on DVD, so that I’ll be less disappointed when fickle Fox inevitably turns on me. Again.