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Netflix is finally getting into the world of medical procedurals with Pulse, a Miami-set hospital drama from creator Zoe Robyn (The Equalizer). Like most medical shows, it’s full of intriguing cases, a host of complicated practitioners, and plenty of drama. The series opens with a school bus careening off a bridge and plunging into the water below and only gets wilder from there. While all of that is fairly typical of a hospital show, there is one element of Pulse that hits different, and doesn’t always land well: its inclusion of a #MeToo storyline that manages to be incisive, as a damning statement on how institutions fail those who come forward, and simultaneously a woefully underdeveloped exercise in schlock. Let’s try and figure it out.
In the first episode of Pulse, all anyone can talk about is the scandal of Dr. Xander Phillips’ (Colin Woodell) suspension and the temporary promotion of Dr. Danny Simms (Willa Fitzgerald) to Chief Resident Phillips’ old job. It’s a hell of a first day in this new role for Simms—the school bus incident brings an influx of patients in urgent need, and a hurricane is on the way. Because they’re short-staffed and Phillips just finished a shift, he’s asked to stay on for the next shift, even though he’s suspended. Here’s the rub: it was Simms who reported Phillips for what’s implied to be sexual harassment, and everyone at the hospital knows it.
Phillips is far from a seedy creep who draws the ire of everyone around him. In fact, the show presents him as quite the opposite. “The guy’s a saint,” surgical resident Tom Cole (Jack Bannon) says of Phillips, and that’s a sentiment shared by most of the staff at Maguire Medical Center. He’s warm, helpful, a strong leader, and an excellent doctor.
Throughout Pulse, flashbacks shed light on Simms and Phillips’ relationship before the complaint was filed. Given that Phillips is Simms’ superior, there’s a clear power dynamic at play. We see how Phillips is flirtatious with Simms, trying to kiss her in the hospital, which she swiftly rejects. But a first-episode cliffhanger reveals that the reason Simms rejected his advances was not because she didn’t want him, but because it happened at work—the pair are actually in a relationship, and even living together now. To turn this reveal into a twisty shock throws everything we’ve seen about Simms into question: If she’s lying about her relationship with Phillips, her entire character is called into question.
Over the season’s 10 episodes, it becomes increasingly clear that she’s not lying: Phillips used his power to pressure her into a relationship. Even though she eventually fell for him, he coerced her into something she didn’t want. While falling in love with him makes things appear like they may be improved now, it doesn’t excuse the way he abused his power at the outset. We see that he purposefully pushed against having their relationship reported to HR so he could ultimately protect himself professionally and secure what he wanted personally without consideration for her career or how she’d be perceived. The problem with this is that slyly revealing that they’re sleeping together consensually frames Simms as a villain who’s out to take down a more powerful man, which is deeply dishonest. And even if she were lying, telling a story about sexual misconduct for pure shock value is distasteful at best.
The storyline’s most effective moments come when Simms is roaming through the hallways of the hospital, only to hear people talking about her, calling her manipulative, a liar, someone willing to throw good people under the bus for her own gain. Simms never interrupts these conversations with the kind of quippy retort you’d typically hear on television. Instead, she just keeps going. If there’s one thing that’s abundantly clear about Simms, it’s that she’s extremely dedicated to her work. It’s everything to her. And she won’t waste a second admonishing people for gossiping when there’s work to do and lives to be saved. Simms has to absorb the vitriol and move on.
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There are a few people in Simms’ corner. In an Episode 7 flashback, Cass (Jessica Rothe), a senior ER nurse, finds the pair kissing, and Simms begs her not to tell anyone. Simms expresses her fears that she may be perceived as someone using a relationship to get ahead at work. But Cass sees things as they are: “Maybe I think he’s using chief to get you,” she responds, referring to Phillips’ position of power. The show understands that all women aren’t a monolith.
At the end of the same episode, Chair of Surgery and Emergency Medicine Natalie Cruz (Justina Machado), who’s been supportive of Simms, warns her that what she’s up against will be difficult to overcome. Referring to her upcoming HR meeting, Cruz says, “I know you want it to make everything better. And I hope it does for you. But it’s complicated. And you need to know that this could also make everything a whole lot worse.” It’s not exactly the kind of pep talk you want to hear from a superior, and especially the person who’s had your back.
But Pulse’s problem is that these words ring hollow. The entire harassment subplot is underdeveloped, taking a back seat to typical medical drama. When this pivotal moment arrives for Simms, there’s little for audiences to grasp onto. The dialogue is overly general to the point that we don’t really understand the complications Cruz is referring to. Is Simms’ job at risk? Or her reputation? Her chances of victory? There’s an earlier scene in the same episode where Phillips’ wealthy and influential mother comes to Cruz about the complaint, but even she doesn’t lay out what she wants. Everything’s only implied or suggested, as if the show is unwilling to make a direct statement regarding Simms and Phillips’ relationship. It sure seems like Phillips’ mother is suggesting Simms be fired, but we never come to understand just how powerful their family is, or how exactly they can manipulate things. The next day, Simms goes to HR ahead of the meeting and drops her complaint.
One of Simms’ justifications for her complaint against Phillips is rumors of previous sexual impropriety at his old hospital, and that those problems led him to transfer hospitals. It’s regularly teased through the season that the truth will be revealed. That mystery is solved in the final episode, wherein it's revealed that Phillips had no claims of sexual misconduct against him. Instead, he signed an NDA because a mistake he made resulted in the death of a patient. Once again, this reads as a sensitive subject being used as a cheap plot device rather than giving it proper attention.
Perhaps the most damning aspect of the plotline is the way it handles the outcomes for each character. Its ultimate message—that even if you do the right thing and come forward, there’s nothing close to a guarantee that that choice will have a positive impact—is unfortunately often true to life. But Pulse is so unwilling to take sides, keen to instead observe that people are complex and capable of flaws. This upends the power imbalance the show is trying to critique. It purports that Simms and Phillips are equally flawed when Phillips is clearly, to this viewer at least, in the wrong.
The end of Season 1 is surprisingly upbeat, despite Phillips getting what he wants, while Simms faces a major setback in what matters most to her. Yet it’s played off as some sort of victory for Simms, as she floats in the ocean, happy and free. Free from the relationship that brought her so much unpleasantness—and yes, so much love—for the last year. But her career, her number one focus, has taken a hit, and it’s all because she tried to advocate for herself in a system designed to maintain the status quo at all costs, even the human ones.
The first season of Pulse is interested in the ways lies can spread and how rumors percolate throughout a work environment. Once they are thrown into the world, they linger and fester in ways impossible to predict. It’s not inherently problematic to be invested in the gray areas of workplace relationships; not everything in life is black and white, and the show is true to that. But Pulse is so stuck in the gray that it’s unwilling to make definitive statements about its characters' behavior. Pulse spends so much time in the gray that it ends up entirely lacking in color.
