EMERGENCY ROOM ENNUI: NETFLIX’S ‘PULSE’ AND THE AESTHETICIZATION OF MEDICAL CRISIS
In the ever-evolving landscape of streaming entertainment, Netflix’s newest addition to the medical drama genre arrives with more style than substance. “Pulse,” the platform’s attempt to capture the hearts that have long belonged to shows like “Grey’s Anatomy,” debuts with a visual aestheticism that sadly cannot mask its creative flatline.
The series opens with what should be a gripping disaster scene—a bus of student athletes plunging off a bridge during a hurricane—rendered with such underwhelming CGI that one wonders if the production budget was primarily allocated to the lighting department that keeps the hospital halls impossibly glamorous despite power outages.
What truly distinguishes “Pulse” is not its medical storylines but its commitment to interpersonal drama, particularly centering around third-year resident Danny Simms (portrayed with conflicted intensity by Willa Fitzgerald) and her supervisor, chief resident Xander Phillips (Colin Woodell, whose brooding charisma struggles to elevate thin material). Their professional relationship implodes when Danny accuses Xander of sexual harassment—conveniently securing his position when he’s placed on administrative leave.
The narrative then pivots to extensive flashbacks of their once-passionate affair, complete with steamy shower encounters that feel more like fragrance commercial outtakes than character development. This storytelling technique raises eyebrows not for its boldness but for its transparent attempt to create artificial tension. Are we meant to question Danny’s motives? Is Xander’s apparent charm merely a façade? The show appears more interested in these questions than in developing authentic medical scenarios.
Comparisons to “Grey’s Anatomy” are inevitable and unflattering. Where Shonda Rhimes’ long-running drama balances medical emergencies with personal entanglements, “Pulse” treats patient care as an inconvenient interruption to romantic entanglements. Even in its most formulaic seasons, “Grey’s” maintained a magnetic pull that “Pulse” clearly aspires to but cannot generate.
The supporting cast suffers similar shortcomings. Sam Elijah (Jessie T. Usher) exists primarily as Danny’s wistful admirer, while Tom Cole (Jack Bannon) serves as the designated antagonist, seemingly to make other characters appear more sympathetic by comparison. Daniela Nieves brings momentary brightness as Camila Perez, but even her effervescence cannot resuscitate scenes flat-lining under the weight of predictable dialogue.
The timing couldn’t be worse for “Pulse” as it arrives during what critics are dubbing “Pitt-mania,” when audiences are experiencing medical drama excellence elsewhere. Against these competitors, “Pulse” appears particularly anemic—its practitioners strolling through crises with inexplicable leisure, their stethoscopes more accessory than instrument.
For a show about medical professionals trained to detect life’s vital signs, “Pulse” ironically demonstrates few of its own. What could have been an examination of healthcare’s human element instead becomes a stylized but hollow exercise in genre conventions. The diagnosis is clear: this patient needs more than cosmetic intervention—it requires a complete transfusion of creative energy.
