Jean-Marc Valée

The show is a masterpiece of genre storytelling— like The Wire was to police procedurals. Except for a few conspicuous little moments when it’s not, which is unfortunate. They’re easy to spot. Most of them arrive when primary writer/showrunner M.S. Gemil decides that it’s time to interrupt the impeccable plotting, flow, and verité detail with a painfully over-determined 2-3 shot sequence of Robinavitch buckling under the weight of his Adamson cross in one way or another (all of them completely unnecessary). Fortunately there are fewer of these awkward Dr. Robbie sequences as the series progresses— which also means mercifully less of the clunky expository dialogue that these cross-bearing moments use as callback points or virtual captions. An example of this one-two punch: Dana: … if [Dr Robbie] is a little prickly today, give him a pass…it’s the anniversary of Adamson’s death. Robbie still blames himself. Later, Robbie makes a pained ‘thinking’ face before his ears start ringing as he tries to blink away some obvious bad memories as we flash back to the site of Adamson’s death in the days leading up to it. We’re in the midst of COVID and may hear something like “we wait!” or “it’s been 17 days— a 12 year old needs this [ECMO machine].” There is so much relentless virtuosity in almost every frame of The Pitt. Why can’t these few plot details—certainly easy enough to put across visually or weave into conversations or habitual action without narrating them as if on Brechtian placards— be allowed to speak themselves less obviously and cloyingly? I really do resent these moments to the point where I feel as if they’re something being done to me. This wouldn’t be the case if the show wasn’t breathtakingly awesome in just about every other way. A reminder from deep within the cruel and indifferent universe that entropy and disorder are becoming more pervasive and we can no longer have a few truly perfect things? Even if they’re just cultural artifacts like television shows or music?