Scrubs Season 10, Episode 1 Review – “My Return”

Where does one go with a Scrubs revival? After 9 seasons and 182 episodes, it didn’t seem there was much story left to tell: from musical episodes to overarching romantic plots, to major cast additions and shifts preceding its two series finales (with season eight’s “My Finale” and season nine’s “Our Thanks”), the ever-experimental comedy ran through a lot of narrative for its main characters during its run, to the point their eventual exits mostly felt warranted by the time season nine began, and the show shifted to its short-lived, undeservedly maligned Med School season (of which Scrubs season 10 basically pretends never happened). So what would “My Return” bring, besides a few new cutaways and a few Eagles?

The answer, unsurprisingly, lies in the larger shifts of the comedy genre; if there’s a single recurring theme to “My Return”, Scrubs‘s uneven, occasionally intriguing season premiere, it is one of profound sadness. After a playfully dramatic cold open, “My Return” quickly settles into a pattern of reintroducing main characters with their most-defined traits – Carla’s volume, Elliot’s neuroses, JD’s femininity – and then proceeding to push them into sadder, slightly darker places. JD the prodigy grew up to be a divorced concierge doctor for the rich, Carla is still in the same nursing uniform she was 20 years ago, and Elliot is still pining over hot doctors that are much younger than her; strangely, there’s not a lot of joy to be had in the reunion of its main characters, which occurs when one of JD’s concierge patients gets admitted into Sacred Heart, immediately intertwining him back into the rhythms and relationships of his previous life.

Mixed in with these downer-isms are a few sprinklings of new characters, from Vanessa Bayer’s anxious Sibby, to cocky resident Dr. Park (Joel Kim Booster), and a handful of med students who mimic plot points of past characters (as in “My First Day”, there’s a resident afraid of blood and placing simple needles, and a random moment where the continued rarity of a black surgeon is unironically addressed), all of whom simply exist in “My Return” to reflect the changing times – or not – of the characters writers Aseem Batra and Tim Hobert know its audience are really here to see (a list that includes the Todd and Hooch, but no sighting of The Janitor, or mention of the passing of Ted or the retirement of Dr. Kelso).

“My Return” oscillates between the two eras of Sacred Heart, but never pauses enough to have anything coherent to say about any of them, except that the older generation is a lot more tired and sadder than the episode initially lets on. And that’s without even really addressing JD and Elliot’s divorce; “My Return” strangely focuses most of its attention on a burnt-out Turk, who seems to be depressed with his stature of being a surgeon to shitty patients, a father to four near-adult daughters, a wife whose relationship is not even a blip on the radar of Scrubs (more on that in a minute). In the episode’s longest, strangest scene, JD tries to convince Turk to go out for a relaxing beer – and Turk nearly breaks down in front of him, disappointed in himself and JD for the lack of joy he’s feeling in his life. It’s an incredibly depressive arc for Turk, and one obviously to bring some dichotomy and tension to an otherwise flat narrative; and it’s a swing that really doesn’t work, undercutting the careful balance Scrubs was able to strike in its better moments with something a lot more manipulative and superficial – and even though “My Return” latches onto Turk’s emotional struggles (which his wife seems to blatantly ignore) as a defining emotion, it struggles to translate it into anything meaningful, both because the episode’s trying to introduce so many other elements – but also because it doesn’t take the time to really engage with Turk as a character, instead nodding towards something profound without engaging with it (there’s another eight episodes to dig into this of course, but the introduction doesn’t exactly inspire a lot of confidence.

Unsurprisingly, “My Return” also completely fails Carla as a character; it’s almost hard to tell Carla and Turk are still married, their scenes approached with a colloquial detachment that almost makes it feel like Judy Reyes was forced into the series against her own will. Carla, once one of the show’s strongest (though divisive and often frustrating) presences, feels like an unmoving portrait of her former self; recognizable and present, but reflecting a version that doesn’t translate correctly into three dimensions. She is just kind of there, gently supporting Elliot, shaking her head and smirking at Turk and JD’s antics, and going through the motions of being a nurse (we don’t even see her in her capacity as a mother of four obviously whipsmart children) – it’s an incredibly reductive version of her, which explains why the promotional material for this season has almost ignored the fact she was part of the show’s main ensemble for nearly eight full seasons.

Despite its giant, glaring flaws, there are still a few redeeming moments for “My Return”; there’s a surprising variety to the show’s signature cutaways, though these segments are just infrequent enough in the episode’s second and third acts that any goofy charm is eclipsed by the depressive forces placed on its characters throughout the episode. In fact, the only character who is able to even come close to juggling this strange tonal dichotomy is Cox, whose tired, weary presence is still guided by a sharp tongue and presence, even if it comes as Perry realizes the world of medicine is beginning to leave him behind. It’s really too bad he’s not part of the main cast of season ten, because his frustrated resignation at the episode’s end, when he reveals his plan to give JD the job of Chief of Medicine, offers up such an incredibly rewarding, propulsive arc for Cox, that is clearly never going to be anything of meaning for the series: instead, Cox’s retirement (which feels spiritually in line with the defeatism Turk displayed earlier) feel a lot more perfunctory rather than palpable – and Scrubs‘s choice to follow JD’s journey as the new chief instead of Cox’s journey of rediscovering himself, feels like a missed opportunity the revival’s specific calibration will never quite be able to recover from.

With so many introductions, recurring jokes, and young faces to introduce, “My Return” ultimately doesn’t have a ton of time to dig deeply into any of its new faces or familiar ideas; the vignettes it provides (under the guise of director Zach Braff, in an incredibly inconsistently shot premiere) are almost intriguing, but are but a superficial sea of young faces behind the main characters Scrubs unconfidently maintain need to be emotional anchors of the season (or at least, the depressive ones). But it’s just funny enough and just intriguing enough, that one can almost squint and see a more dynamic, vibrant revival lying underneath. It’s not a bad premiere, not at all – but not nearly as energetic or compelling as one would hope, especially once you realize all of its stories boil down to “The world is sad, and everything is worse than it was before”. Hopefully, Scrubs will afford itself a bit of narrative grace moving forward, because this collection of middling-to-solid jokes and self-referential humor needs some more calibrating before it can find its stride.

Grade: C+

Other thoughts/observations:

• Welcome to Scrubs season 10 reviews! “My 2nd First Day” will post tomorrow – and if you’re rewatching the OG series, I’m currently in the middle of covering season 1!
  
• Turk’s daughters are Izzy, Ellie, Sophia, and Nora (the youngest one’s nickname being “The Accident”.
  
• Cox, struggling to find ways to motivate Gen Z: “I can’t work them crazy hours… or even abuse them anymore.”
  
• Elliot’s scenes amount to her fawning over a hot guy and complaining about her divorce to JD. It’s not great!
  
• Coldplay’s “Clocks”? In 2026? C’mon now.
  
• You see, JD realizes he can’t do this all on his own, because the title song always said the same thing… that’s how you do it folks!
  
• Braff’s attempts to use handheld camera shots at random moments to suggest tension are… so beyond derivative, it’s almost parody at this point.
  
• High Five Count: The Todd is back, going 1-2 on attempted/solicited high fives. A highlight: “The Todd likes to go deep. Consent five!”
  
• There’s a whole, corny and barely-mentioned subplot about a man who brings his wife to the ER but doesn’t want to come in because he’s poor. When she dies, he sends Blake, the over confident jerk-maxxing resident, into a patented Cox spiral. It is predictable as hell.
  
• “Engage your core, C-Bear!”