I just finished re-watching the penultimate (some, including myself, might call it "final") season of Scrubs. I was worried going into it that it wouldn't stand up - Scrubs was a show that I deeply enjoyed around my late teens/early twenties when it was on TV a fair amount and I bought all the DVDs as was my wont. It was a social glue with my new housemates at university and we eagerly swapped discs (people don't do that now) and binged whole seasons (people still do that assuredly).
Scrubs was such a fundamental part of that period of my life that it's hard to unstick it from there and clearly see the problematic elements - much like eager Friends fans do (it's definitely much better than Friends). What made it special was its unusual single camera format, its constant surreal asides, its likable cast and its occasionally surprisingly unvarnished views about the realities of American healthcare and what it means psychologically to work for them. The series is rooted, after all, in the travails of a real medical intern and despite the trashy romances and tired earnest indie tropes there is a palpable sense of character growth here that is largely unmatched in any other mainstream American sitcom. As a teenager I lapped up the romantic tangles and heartbreak - the stinging existential lessons and whiplash tonal shifts between silliness and melancholy. They seem hokey now but at the time it felt wildly fresh and deeply absorbing.
The principal issues with it are, of course, ones of representation. The most shocking examples compared to a show that would get made now is the already old-fashioned bleakly divided gender stereotypes, the heinously conspicuous lack of any LGBT characters of note (apart from, arguably, The Todd) and the largely unhealthy entitled nature of J.D.'s relationships. I always thought that Turk and Carla's pairing felt rather bafflingly perfunctory as well but the long game is strong with them and they are portrayed in far more depth afterwards. The bruised old fashioned machismo of the great John C. McGinley shines out to me as probably one of the more remarkably rounded roles in the show and it's fascinating that the older I get the more clearly I see him.
Watching it again all these years later, where the messy unpleasantness of the final (some, including myself, might call it "non-existent") season is long past, it was strangely like meeting a younger version of myself. Not perfect, with a lot to learn, but strangely reassuring. That in these virustimes Faison & Braff have chosen to do a "deep dive" podcast going through each episode is a testament to the deep affection that the cast still have for it which puts Scrubs in an even more endearing light.
Scrubs was such a fundamental part of that period of my life that it's hard to unstick it from there and clearly see the problematic elements - much like eager Friends fans do (it's definitely much better than Friends). What made it special was its unusual single camera format, its constant surreal asides, its likable cast and its occasionally surprisingly unvarnished views about the realities of American healthcare and what it means psychologically to work for them. The series is rooted, after all, in the travails of a real medical intern and despite the trashy romances and tired earnest indie tropes there is a palpable sense of character growth here that is largely unmatched in any other mainstream American sitcom. As a teenager I lapped up the romantic tangles and heartbreak - the stinging existential lessons and whiplash tonal shifts between silliness and melancholy. They seem hokey now but at the time it felt wildly fresh and deeply absorbing.
The principal issues with it are, of course, ones of representation. The most shocking examples compared to a show that would get made now is the already old-fashioned bleakly divided gender stereotypes, the heinously conspicuous lack of any LGBT characters of note (apart from, arguably, The Todd) and the largely unhealthy entitled nature of J.D.'s relationships. I always thought that Turk and Carla's pairing felt rather bafflingly perfunctory as well but the long game is strong with them and they are portrayed in far more depth afterwards. The bruised old fashioned machismo of the great John C. McGinley shines out to me as probably one of the more remarkably rounded roles in the show and it's fascinating that the older I get the more clearly I see him.
Watching it again all these years later, where the messy unpleasantness of the final (some, including myself, might call it "non-existent") season is long past, it was strangely like meeting a younger version of myself. Not perfect, with a lot to learn, but strangely reassuring. That in these virustimes Faison & Braff have chosen to do a "deep dive" podcast going through each episode is a testament to the deep affection that the cast still have for it which puts Scrubs in an even more endearing light.