'Miami Medical,' the expected unexpected
CBS drama works at surprising us with gimmicks
By Tom Conroy
Mar 31, 2010
Commercials for upcoming TV shows are always telling viewers to “expect the unexpected.” This isn’t necessary. These days, viewers expect screenwriters to throw in sudden twists, out-of-left-field jeopardy and bizarre, previously unrevealed personality traits.
They’ve also learned to expect that all too often, none of the above will be interesting or esthetically satisfying.
CBS’s new drama “Miami Medical” is full of the unexpected. But as might be expected, the forced novelty fails to overcome the familiarity of the settings and situations.
If the show, which about a team of top trauma surgeons, were the only medical drama on TV, it might be worth seeking out. But viewers have plenty of other places to see doctors yelling, “Stat!” and “Clear!” and telling one another how talented they are.
The would-be-unexpected action starts in the first moments of the premiere, airing this Friday at 10 p.m. A pregnant woman and her husband stop for ice cream. Something explodes. Miraculously, they’re unhurt. Whew!
Not so fast! Suddenly, a truck comes and rear-ends them.
The second episode CBS made available for review also kicks off with the trauma that sends the week’s main patient to the emergency room. A harried waitress working at a poolside bar (this is Miami, after all) has to deal with a loud, rude customer. Oh, my gosh! He’s going to hurt her. No, wait! She’s going into insulin shock! No, wait! Someone else is firing a gun! (Folks, you can make this stuff up.)
The premiere uses a switcheroo that’s been pulled many times before in both TV and movies but might actually impress people whose cable has been out for two decades.
The basic premise of the show goes back much longer than that. Attractive, ambitious young surgeons — Eva (Lana Parrilla), Chris (Mike Vogel) and Serena (Elisabeth Harnois) — work under the tutelage of the more experienced Dr. Proctor (Jeremy Northam).
In case we think we’re watching “ER,” the trauma center’s head nurse, Tuck (Omar Gooding), explains that regular emergency-room doctors are zeroes compared with trauma surgeons, who are “the best and the brightest, rock stars of medicine. The ones here at Miami Trauma 1, they’re the Rolling Stones.” It’s never a good sign when a character sounds like a writer pitching the show we’re watching.
At the beginning of episode two, a graphic says, “The first moments after a critical injury are known as ‘Golden Hour.’ Your best chance of survival are the trauma surgeons who can pull you back from the brink.” The scripts, however, basically ignore the potential for some time-clock suspense.
The three young doctors are relatively one-note: Eva is steady, Chris is cocky, and Serena is spunky.
Trying to shake things up, the writers have given Dr. Proctor a past: Despite his British accent, he’s a Gulf War veteran who left a sedate practice in Baltimore for the excitement of trauma surgery. The script acknowledges that his accent makes no sense, but that doesn’t really excuse it.
The writers have stuffed Proctor with various quirks. He likes to perch dangerously on the edge of the hospital’s roof with his shirt off, baring a huge, still mysterious chest scar. He is prone to fey, puzzling pronouncements. He explains a bit of medical intuition by saying he used “BLT”: “If there’s a problem with the tomahto, don’t assume you’ll find an answer by looking at the bacon.”
After two episodes, Proctor’s idiosyncrasies show no sign of uniting to form a coherent character. At times, it seems the show is striving for a “House” dynamic, with him providing inspiration and aggravation to his dazzled younger charges, but that comes and goes.
Like most productions by the prolific Jerry Bruckheimer, “Miami Medical” looks great. That includes the cast. Northam is all twinkly charming in that posh English way, but it would be nice if after stealing the scenes, he had something to do with them.
Some plot elements are amateurish. One suspicious-looking guy flees the trauma center for no reason other than to add suspense to a slow stretch. And the identity of the poolside shooter comes out of nowhere.
After two episodes, the show has already used up such perennial patient types as the dying fiancé, the hard-working single mom, the working-class hero and the fetus whose mother might not make it.
Normally one would suggest that the writer try to come up with some new twists, but they’ve tried that and it hasn’t worked. This show’s Golden Hour is probably over, and it may be time to call it.
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