If you’re searching for a TV show that masterfully delivers an emotional roller coaster across the full spectrum of human experience, look no further than The Pitt. The HBO show, helmed by executive producers R. Scott Gemmill (ER) and John Wells (The West Wing, Shameless), is an original drama that dives headfirst into the chaotic lives of underpaid and overstressed doctors and nurses, posing the question: Why do they put up with our bullshit?
While the collective answer often lies in the characters’ unwavering dedication to serving their community and using their skills and fancy degrees for good, the show doesn’t shy away from testing the limits of their patience and perseverance. From putting on a people face to crashing out in the bathroom, the series captures the unrelenting intensity of what could be just another day on the job that’ll remind you of the last time work made you want to rip your hair out.
The show, which spans fifteen hour-long episodes and has already gotten a second season that’ll take place in the medical nightmare holiday that is the Fourth of July, cleverly delves into the relentless challenges of an emergency room staffer’s shift. Each episode title is a timestamp marking an hour within the fictional Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, where four rookie medical students are baptised by fire. While it may seem like another medical drama amidst a sea of anxiety-inducing conspiratorial shows in vogue this year, The Pitt stands out with its raw, heartfelt sincerity. In layman’s terms, it's the medical version of Look Back. It’s the kind of show that inspires viewers to live with greater passion and cultivate a more profound empathy for those around them.
First and foremost, The Pitt has DILFs with receding hairlines, massive arms, and even bigger hearts with Dr. Michael Robinavitch (Noah Wyle) and his work husband, Dr. Jack Abbott (Shawn Hatosy). Their undeniable dad energy–holding down the fort, disciplining their work kids, and encouraging them even when they’re doing procedural no-no’s–is a powderkeg for AO3 fanfiction. (As of the time of writing, the pair have amassed 116 works, you’re welcome). If sexualizing old men isn’t your thing, the show also has smooth-faced twinks in Patrick Ball’s Dr. Frank Langdon, who I’d best describe as a Pokémon evolution of John Mullaney; a mean girl™ medical intern who is desperate to complete her chest tube dailies like a gacha game player; a neurodivergent medical student with Princess Diana-levels of compassion; and a doctor-in-training amid a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day being a human splash guard for fluids of every imaginable origin.
The Pitt also, miraculously, finds time for romance. You know that moment where you consider flirting with a nurse, but your conscience mercifully steps in to save you from utterly humiliating yourself as the poor dude just tries to do his job? Well, The Pitt introduces us to a medical student completely untethered by such inhibitions, rake-stepping into every encounter with her senpai. Meanwhile, her tiger mom hovers menacingly in the background, like a QTE prompt come to life.
The show also boasts jaw-dropping practical effects that’ll have you squirming on your couch, while the meal you foolishly decided to prepare before pressing play will sit neglected as medically intense — and technically sound — scenes of chaos flash across your TV screen. Much of this isn’t for the faint of heart; I had to nope out of the show a handful of times when “degloving,” cockroaches in ears, and makeshift eye surgeries became the new medical emergency for the pit crew to solve.
And while there’s no shortage of medical misadventures, The Pitt finds room for gallows and situational humor too—be it Home Depot BBLs gone disastrously wrong, toddlers slumped on gummies, or teenagers trying to dodge the embarrassment of testicular torsion. It even has “gamba” (gambling for the terminally online), with staff placing DraftKings-style bets on the outcome of a stolen ambulance. The show boasts a unique open-kitchen operating room layout, giving distraught families front-row seats to watch their loved ones pop open like a car in an auto shop.
Despite its hour-long format, The Pitt flies by thanks to its brisk pacing and seamless flow of compelling medical cases. Its decision to skip a grandiose opening theme further amplifies this momentum, plunging viewers directly into the chaos because that’s what we ask of doctors and nurses every day. The cast delivers gripping performances, viscerally portraying the toll of the thankless, high-pressure world of medical professionals through a mix of nuanced subtleties and raw intensity woven throughout the season.
Whenever the show wasn’t confronting my uninsured ass with the stark reality of my mortality in these unprecedented times, it was genuinely inspiring. It was uplifting to watch its ensemble navigate their day—overcoming challenges like panic attacks, survivor’s guilt, and chaos or bureaucratic mismanagement. On top of that, the show’s “good politics,” which unflinchingly clap back at Dr. Google users from both sides of the aisle for dismissing professional life-saving medical advice, added a cathartic layer. If Noah Wyle doesn’t get his flowers this award season, I’ll be front and center for the ensuing riots.
