To the Creators of 'The Pitt': I'm Sorry, But I Couldn't Watch That

Hello creators and writers of The Pitt. 

It’s not you. It’s me. And it isn’t even the entirety of your first season on Max. 

No, I’ve been singing your praises to anyone who would listen to me, which, granted, is fewer than five but more than one. Having not seen all of this debut season, I still may venture to say that it is one of the best new shows on streaming. The Pitt certainly shines more than any other new show this year. 

R. Scott Gemmill and company understand their cast, write to their strengths, realize what they had with ER many moons ago, and design propulsive television episodes. 

Noah Wyle, a near-grizzled senior attending doctor in a hellishly busy emergency department and trauma center, fits his character of Dr. Robinavitch so well, you wonder why he’s never been cast as a doctor prior to this. (I joke!) Wyle conveys emotional depth with mere looks. In other words, he does what great actors are expected to do.

But he is not the only one who encapsulates his character here. Patrick Ball as the younger Dr. Langdon gives the cocky-but-not-annoying doctor and sometimes friend of Dr. “Robby,” as the staff knows Wyle’s head doctor. Tracy Ifeachor smiles wryly, but only so much, as she maintains the doctor with a secret. No one but Isa Briones can frustrate views as the much younger, truly cocky medical student. In her sights are fellow students: Gerran Howell plays the lovable guy who cannot help but stepping in all piles of shit and Shabana Azeez shine as inexperienced – or not – pupil. All of them are in “the Pitt” for their first day, and what a day it is. 

The Pitt sets itself apart from other derivative medical dramas by setting the entire fifteen episodes over the course of one day and one shift; by avoiding the love and lovelorn by moving the action from room to room and too fast for any lustful, longing looks; by not fearing to look human heartbreak straight in the eye. Has there been another series since Covid-19 as willing to ensure its reality fits that of the show? Or what’s the last significant piece of television about death as much as The Pitt? Not what happens to others when they pass, not killing off characters for shock or even plot, not people dying off screen, not any type of chills, not any type of thrills. Death. What it is to die. 

Like all stellar TV and movies, The Pitt offers a lot more than the moment before the last. 

But it’s the eighth episode, “2:00 P.M.,” which made me pick up the remote and use a button besides rewind or pause. 

Viewers know who have made it here. 

I’m not the one to dole out trigger warnings or deterrents due to content, and to be clear, I’m not doing that here. 

It’s that I – me, personally – could not watch those scenes.  

I suppose that a large portion of those who love The Pitt won’t have issues with this aspect of the episode’s plot, and that’s wonderful. That was once me! 

Don’t let it detract from the praise I give; don’t let it hinder you from watching.

I’ll continue The Pitt. 

But fair warning to the creators and writers: if there is more of that storyline in the ninth installment, I got to fast forward it. Maybe it’s because The Pitt lives in reality, stripping the drama out of the worn genre of medical drama. 

It’s life, after all.