The Pitt: Season 1 - Review 

Rating: 5 out of 5

IT’S easy to run out of superlatives for The Pitt. An awards laden US sensation, this medical drama is the long overdue successor to ER that fans of that series have long been pining for.

It’s gritty but humane. It tackles hot button issues. It’s energy sapping yet inspiring. And it’s relentless, just as any shift in an ER or A&E most certainly is.

It asks relevant questions throughout. Primarily, who cares for the carers? But also, what does it take to be human? To see people for who they are, as individuals, rather than labels.

And it throws a spotlight on many current issues with intelligent, state of the nation style commentary - picking the right side throughout.

Early on, there’s a trans patient - but you could be forgiven for not noticing, given how subtle the reference. Hence, the story isn’t focused on the trans element of the patient, but rather the human being who has entered the ER in need of medical attention. There’s no judgement. Just compassion. The Pitt shows the value in treating everyone with respect and as an equal.

That’s not to say it doesn’t shy away from the ugliness inherent in humanity, or the issues that create the divisions we see throughout so-called civilised societies today (Trump’s America especially).

Early on in the series, a disgruntled patient with a heart complaint cowardly assaults a female member of staff while she is taking a cigarette break. It’s a demonstration of the abuse (both physical and mental) that health workers are increasingly having to endure as part of their daily existence.

Later on, the final few episodes in the aftermath of a mass shooting event, which floods the ER with countless gunshot victims. It makes valid points about the need for tighter gun controls in a country that loses too many innocents to these kind of events.

Crucially, it doesn’t labour the point, allowing the visuals to do the talking. For every fan of any action cinema that revels in the often balletic display of shooting that riddles victims with bullets, The Pitt provides a sobering reminder of the damage an actual bullet can do. Its medical scenes are gory and unflinching.

But it also examines the emotional cost of such events, both from the perspective of the patients and the medical teams tasked with saving them. For those three or four episodes, The Pitt becomes a war zone where doctors - including a traumatised combat veteran - are offering battlefield triage.

There’s also a measles case that provides the opportunity to highlight the current debate around vaccines and the dangers of over-reliance on “Dr Google” and receiving ‘medical advice’ from unreliable sources: sometimes at the expense of what’s beneficial for the patient.

And, reverting back to earlier episodes, there’s an ongoing storyline about assisted dying and end of life care that really tugs at the heart-strings, but which is sensitively handled and brilliantly performed.

There’s always a lot going on. And not everything is neatly resolved.

In the midst of it all are the members of staff at this Pittsburgh-based hospital, dubbed ‘the pit’ by its leader, Noah Wyle’s Dr Michael ‘Robby’ Robinavitch. Wyle, of course, is an ER veteran, having made his name playing the young Dr Carter for most of its 15-year run.

Here, he’s older and more cynical, a haunted survivor of Covid struggling with the death that he failed to prevent of a former colleague and mentor. But he’s also a cool and extremely competent attending physician, who shows a warmth and compassion to fellow staff members and patients, as well as a firmness and honesty when he needs to.

Wyle’s performance has rightly been lauded by critics and bestowed with numerous awards: he is a towering presence; an inspiring leader, yet an increasingly broken and isolated figure eventually unable to hold back the depth of his emotional despair and trauma.

Through Robby, more than anyone, we see the true cost of what it takes to be a hero day after day, against unyielding pressures, whether financial (the top brass are regularly reviewing procedure and seeking more for less, while the sheer volume of need during the post-shooting episodes shows how poorly stocked and resourced hospitals have become in the modern era) or physical (often from disgruntled patients, tired from extended waits).

It quickly becomes apparent that Robby is drowning, swimming against the tide in a battle he cannot win. It’s no surprise when he finally melts down. But the moment is devastating and powerful, a powerhouse personal moment of acting.

But everywhere you look there are similarly impressive performances - too many to single out here, although I will highlight a few.

Shawn Hatosy’s night staff colleague Dr Jack Abbot is a genuine rock star, whose history as a soldier serves the ER well in the aftermath of the shooting. But it’s his interplay with Wyle, particularly during the finale, that really stands out and helps make the final moments of the first series so poignant.

Taylor Dearden’s Dr Melissa ‘Mel’ King, is another firm favourite, not least for her honest and relatable depiction of autism. She nails the traits that often get overlooked, without over-emphasising the ones that everyone expects to see. It’s a performance born from her own lived experience that goes some way to raising awareness of autism, while also serving to show the strengths it can bring to a workplace (as well as the challenges it may also face).

Katherine LaNasa’s Dana Evans stands out as the cool administrative chief of the ER - a firm but fair colleague who organises the chaos with an almost sage-like calmness. It makes her assault all the more shocking; and her reaction to it is beautifully handled with a mix of mounting disillusionment and sustained professionalism. She’s always there for her colleagues even when she’s falling apart herself.

Strong, too, are Tracy Ifeachor’s Dr Heather Collins, forced to work through a heart-breaking miscarriage (again, compassionately handled); Supriya Ganesh’s Dr Samira Mohan, whose more personal approach to her patients often places her at odds with Robby (even though he can also see the value it has to offer); German Howell, as newbie intern Whitaker, quite often the unlucky recipient of unwanted bodily fluids, yet a hugely endearing presence in the original Dr Carter mould; and Patrick Ball, as Dr Frank Langdon, a brilliant attendee belatedly undone by the revelation that he may be an addict. His subsequent exchanges with Robby are among the most explosive the show has to offer - but once more show the toll that sustained exposure to the pressure cooker environment of the ER can bring.

I could go on. I could even single out particular patients (such as Jackson Kelly, as the troubled teenager David Saunders, primary suspect in the mass shooting) as further evidence of why the show deserves so much praise.

But I’ll stop there, with one last observation, which is to express the hope that as many people see The Pitt as possible. It is the defining TV show of the moment; a must-see medical drama that has so much to say about humanity and the way we treat each other, highlighting both what’s wrong with the world and - crucially - what’s also right with it.

It also casts a deserved light on the unsung [and underpaid] heroes of society, those we clapped for during Covid, but who have fallen back into the shadows, forgotten until we need them. The Pitt shows the important part they continue to play in a world that is arguably more complex, dangerous and conflicted than ever before.

I cannot recommend it highly enough.