On the surface, “My V.I.P.” feels like Scrubs starting to get back to being a more familiar (if insanely over-lit) version of itself, an episode centering itself on the parallel mysteries of a patient diagnosis and a core character’s backstory. In those moments, Scrubs feels like a season seven or eight episode of the OG series; somewhat amusing, a bit rushed, and featuring at least one romantic subplot that it struggles to get the audience invested in (or in this case, a pair of them!). The problem is, this is new Scrubs, which continues trying to retrofit characters whose compelling qualities and internal conflicts remain largely underdeveloped, without some of the show’s most poignant, evocative characters to provide some foundation and guidance to support them – which makes an episode like “My V.I.P.” feel more than a little listless and superficial.
“My V.I.P.” operates on two parallel paths, slowly pushing the new generation of characters to the forefront (to mixed effect) while tying in the core cast around them, all centered on stories of perception and assumption; J.D. and Dr. Park deal with a VIP patient whose wife may or may not be trying to kill him; Turk as he tries to unravel the enigma that is Pilot Ken; and Sam, who is confronted with her own preconceptions of Blake. On a purely narrative level, it gives Scrubs a bit of consistency the revival has lacked; unfortunately, the execution of all three stories are underwhelming in their own ways, leading to a trio of disappointing, cloying, and ineffective resolutions.
J.D. and Dr. Park’s plot is probably the best of them, if only because it gives Dr. Park’s inconsistent presence in Sacred Heart a bit of foundation – though his tragic backstory, which involves a decade-long relationship gone awry, feels rushed and tacked on, an attempt to humanize him in ways that echo back to Dr. Cox’s first season and the slow reveal of him and Jordan’s marriage; except season one of Scrubs had two dozen episodes to do this, while Dr. Park’s fourth (of five) appearances in a ten-episode season inherently limit the depth the show can give this character.
This just kind of renders him a bitchy afterthought; outside of the 1940s noir cutaway, Dr. Park doesn’t provide much of a counterpart to J.D., just a way for the show to deliver some acerbic, empty punchlines at its protagonist (again, reminiscent of the original run’s latter seasons, which seemed to pick at the same two or three J.D. traits over and over again). When it comes to the medical plot – which ultimately involves a husband who is just horny for a wife who is mixing up his lotions – Dr. Park also adds nothing to “My V.I.P.”, rendering the A-story a weightless affair that doesn’t have much to say once its misdirections give way to its rather obvious resolution.
Turk’s story fares even worse; I don’t know what suggested Elliot was invested in her relationship with Pilot Ken enough for an entire subplot with him and Turk – which is mostly just jokes about biscuits and butter – especially when the plot is noticeably missing Elliot from most of it. Of the three lead characters in Scrubs, Turk really has been done the dirtiest, left an unsatisfied, depressed husband who overworks himself and struggles to lead his department. Regardless of intent, Turk’s constant presence only amplifies what feels is missing from the heart of the series in this modern, brightened iteration of it (I’d take Scrubs season nine over this any day of the week, for reference). There’s a hint of something brewing with Amara, Dashana, and the lost patient waiting to go into Turk’s OR – but “My V.I.P.” never foregrounds her character or conflict, which just makes her “the girl who runs away and listens while Asher and Amara have sex on top of her” (a milquetoast pairing so lifeless and undeveloped, it makes J.D.’s first on-screen relationship seem rich and textured).
Elsewhere, “My V.I.P.” offers up another potential romantic subplot, as Sam tries to unwrap the onion that is Blake – a story that mostly just feels like Denise and Drew Redux, without the longer runtimes of the OG series and performances of Eliza Coupe and Michael Mosley to bolster the mundane storytelling and unfunny jokes that comprise their story. The idea of Blake being an ineffective doctor because of his attractiveness is an interesting one – and so is Blake’s still-mysterious backstory, which suggests Blake didn’t get through college by being an influencer (barf), and went through some undefined struggle that left him a half decade behind the normal MD curve with nothing but a chiseled chin line and his lone wolf attitude to keep him going. There’s a compelling character there – but through “My V.I.P.” and Sam, Scrubs fails to access it in any way exciting or poignant, which makes their dynamic an incredibly deficient, reductive way to try and tell stories that make the new generation of characters engaging in any way, shape, or form.
“My V.I.P.” should feel like a turning point for Scrubs, in how it begins to transition authorship of its stories ever so slightly away from J.D. and tries to start building on its new characters and setting; unfortunately, the episode’s impatient editing and undercooked storytelling prove to be deadlier than Mr. Walton’s heart cream.
Other thoughts/observations:
- am I happy to see the Todd trying to get a high five? Yes. Do I need it three times in the same episode? Definitely not.
- Turk is a “trained surgical rapper” with bars like “t-money/all up in your tummy/cutting out the bumps and lumps that look funny”.
- Roll back in the table nachos! (this is the only joke the two front desk nurses have been good for in six episodes; not a promising sign).
- Rowdy’s still around, despite not going on a walk for 26 years.
- “Butt play can be dangerous!”
- While I love the Mon Rovia song that plays over the final moments, using a folk song about government overreach media control is incredibly misguided. Still great to see him getting some mainstream exposure, though.
- Asher is too goddamn soft a character to be interesting; he gets one criticism from Dr. Park and J.D., and he’s whimpering in the break room. Boy is too weak!