You may well not be old enough or British enough to remember, but Steve Punt and Hugh Dennis used to have a recurring sketch in their post-Mary Whitehouse Experience series in the 90s about spotting the stiff – the character in old war films who gives away their fate through some pretty hopeful dialogue.
Stuff like when a character says “I can’t wait for this war to be over, so I can go home and resume my career as a concert pianist”, you know you don’t need to buy them gloves for Christmas. That kind of thing.
The last nine weeks of The Pitt has been a game of that and Dr Robinavitch’s fate. Either this is the biggest bait in switch in TV history, or the writers room have decided to layer on the Spot the Stiff clues with a trowel. From him lying about wearing a helmet to his biker pal being late, various colleagues questioning his choice to go off alone for three months… and now this week, Abbott warning him about it getting too dark and Robby asking Whittaker to housesit for him with the promise “If I don’t come back, you’ve got yourself a bitching bachelor pad.”
At least when Casualty does this stuff, it’s wrapped up an episode…
Robby’s offer comes to Whittaker during a particularly character-revealing moment. After learning from Santos last week that our newly qualified doctor has been helping out the widow of a patient from last series on her farm, Robby gives him a pep-talk about the need to enforce boundaries and keep lives separate. Before promptly asking him to house sit while he goes away.
There’s two things going on here. One, given his warnings to Whittaker, is that he clearly thinks it’ll help separate his young charge from his relationship with the widow, and give him the space (as he’s currently bunking with Santos). But there’s also an anointing here – Robby clearly thinks and sees a lot of himself in Whittaker, to whom he gives his official Doctor’s work ID now HR have finally printed it up. But it also betrays Robby’s own lack of boundaries and, given it comes just a couple of hours after his run-in with his former wing-man Langdon – over whose shoulder through windows he can be seen lurking in most shots – it feels like a pointed crowning of his new favoured son.
In ER, this would have been the bit he’d tell Whittaker ‘You set the tone, Dennis.”
There’s a lot of reflection and pep-talking in this episode, which manages to feel a bit like the calm before the storm of the final five episodes. Emma gets a lovely pick-me-up talk in the ambulance bay from Dana, while the ultra-calm Abbott – who we learn does naked yoga at sunrise (Shawn Hatosy directed this episode, and it feels like there’s a couple of in-jokes added at his expense by the writers room…) – tries to get Robby to understand his own trauma, something which gets silently brushed off.
In terms of new cases we have three – two of significance and one which is treated with a surprising amount of sympathy and good humour.
The latter is a furry, at Anthrocon – a real convention in Pittsburg around the weekend of July 4 – who collapsed from heat exhaustion in her suit. Santos, usually so sarcastic, proves very chill about the whole thing and the patient suggests she attend the con, telling her she’d make an excellent dragon.
Fair.
The other two are much more notable and pointed. Amaya, a young woman with polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS) comes into the hospital, making a point during her treatment that often the pain and symptoms aren’t always paid attention to by the doctors. Whittaker almost makes the same mistake, ready to discharge her – understandably, he wants to free up a bed – but McKay wants to observe her because the pain levels seem to fluctuate.
She’s right to, it turns out, as scans show a twisting ovary – not detected initially – which is cutting off blood flow and could potentially be lost without urgent surgery. It happens randomly which is why the pain Amaya feels comes and goes.
When I trained in counselling skills, one of the things impressed upon us was that our clients know their own situation better than we ever will, so listen to them. The Pitt, across both series, has made a point of showing how that’s also an essential part of healthcare – and how often assumptions are made, particularly around people of colour, by folk who think professionally they know better than their patients.
And then comes the story which has drawn all the headlines – a 12-year-old boy is brought in having blown up his hand with a firecracker. Alongside the remarkable prosthetics work (see grizzly factor below), to demonstrate it and the dangers of playing with fireworks, it’s also the story about ICE – about as timely and divisive a plot as you can get. John Wells, the co-creator of The Pitt, revealed recently that HBO had told them to both sides the storyline.
What we get, as a result, is Santos finding the boy, Jude, has been drinking, which leads to social services being brought in and his sister – his primary carer – revealing their parents aren’t around because they were deported back to Haiti after going in to a routine immigration hearing – something which has notoriously become the MO of Trump’s Call of Duty-cosplaying border gestapo.
(Look, Wells may have been ordered to both sides this, but I’m not….)
Jude’s sister had to give up university to care for her brother, but social services involvement, and his injury, could result in him being deported to Haiti to his parents – a country he’s never even seen before, having been born in the USA. Our two primary continuing cases reach an emotional tipping point too. Howard returns from his scan at Presbyterian, and has an emotional conversation with his sister – wheeled into the ambulance bay, which is the only place with a signal – before going in for surgery. Garcia makes it clear to him that the chances of survival are 50/50, but his chances of death without surgery are 100%.
Roxie, meanwhile, finally confesses to her husband that she’s been hiding the amount of pain she’s been in for a long time, to protect him and their kids, before – finally on her own – telling Cassie that she’s ready to die. It’s an incredible, absolutely heartbreaking scene between Fiona Douriff and the excellent Brittany Allen as Roxie asks McKay about death and what it’s like, and about God and the pain of letting go of loved ones. After Robby’s talk last week about how sometimes care can lead to death if it’s the best thing for a patient, it does feel like we’re going in a particular direction now with this story.
Javadi also has a horrific moment after her failure to understand how the new charting and board system works almost causes her to lose a patient, who ends up needing major surgery rather than a minor procedure as a result, resulting in a dressing down from a furious Garcia.
But there’s some lovely moments of light relief. Mel’s sister Becca is brought in because of her stomach ache, and with Mel having to give her deposition, Langdon is put in charge of her care. Which means we learn that Dr King has been gushing about Frank to her sister for the best part of a year. Unsurprisingly, after Langdon learned about autistic patient support from Mel last year, he’s great with Becca.
We find out why Princess won the sweep – she’s got insider information from Wentbridge, which Perlah’s rumbled and ends up being bribed with 40% of the pot to keep her quiet. And to bring some order to the utter chaos of the reception Dana brings back old hospital clark Monica (played by the always excellent Rusty Schwimmer, one of those faces you’ll immediately go ‘Oh, it’s her from that thing!” as she’s been in EVERYTHING) – who manages to turn everything round in about ten minutes, even fixing the broken fax machine. As someone who was laid off because of the digital revolution in running the hospital, the old-school, no-bullshit Monica – basically, Dana with a good set of biros instead of a stethoscope – is the best person to fix the newly analogue ER. Not least because everyone else is mooning over the handsome new portable X-Ray operator brought in by Dr Al Hashimi to speed up diagnoses.
And they’re going to need it, because as the episode closes the emergency phone closes, and we see on the TV that a waterslide at a nearby park has collapsed, with the casualties all heading to PTMC…
Grizzly factor: Jude’s blown-off hand is an amazing piece of work, particularly the shot where he flexes his remaining fingers while the bloodied remains dangle below them. It’s gruesome but legitimately one of those you’re wondering how they pulled it off.
Best quote: There are so many to pick from in a episode of notable dialogue moments, especially Dana and Emma’s chat in the bay. But Roxie’s monologue on her condition, with Allen’s performance, probably takes it. “I don’t know what hurts more, the cancer or seeing I’m never going to see my sons grow up. It feels like a cruel joke. Why give me a children and husband I adore if you’re just going to take them away from me?”
The Pitt – Season 2 Episode 9: “03:00pm”
Written by Cynthia Adarkwa
Directed by Shawn Hatosy
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