Scrubs: Season 10

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I watched nine seasons of Scrubs. Sorry, I watched eight season of Scrubs and then one season that was some abomination of a kinda-sorta reboot. Seems the public felt the same, as the show was immediately canceled after season nine in 2010 and relegated to the memory hole of long-serving, middling sitcoms of the early 2000s. I think that its long run actually ended up ultimately hurting its reputation. Or its longevity, at least. Or maybe it’s the perception of Zach Braff’s insufferable schmaltzy earnestness that made people shy away from it. Because it seemingly left no discernible trail in the market (though did arguably leave a creative mark on sitcoms themselves). But I thought it was funny. And goofy. And original. And even emotional. Yes, a sitcom that could pull at the heartstrings when it wanted to. And, boy, did it go there. Despite him never writing for the series, Braff’s sensibilities from his film Garden State — which came out during season four of its run — certainly bled over into the show. Coincidence or not, the use of indie rock music and the overarching themes of life and death, guilt and the importance of relationships was at the heart of the dramatic heft woven in and amongst the slapstick, wacky asides and buddy comedy between Braff and his best friend, Donald Faison. Memorialized in those stupid T-Mobile ads we can’t escape. A weird nostalgia for a show I’m not sure that many people feel much nostalgia for. Except for me. Because I’m a squish, I guess.

So, here we are sixteen years later and Scrubs is somehow back. A series for our time? Not really; this isn’t The West Wing. Or even Veep. Though the former would feel way too laughably earnest in 2026 and the latter less like a satirical farce than a documentary. So, why Scrubs? Well, remember those T-Mobile commercials? My theory is that some ad agency, where the creative director is a Gen-X TV dork like myself, pitched the telcom on a nostalgia play that didn’t exist for these two dudes to do their Scrubs routine in a series of commercials, and in doing so somehow willed the nostalgia into existence. Which, in turn, spurred a call from ABC to Bill Lawrence begging him to put this show that nobody missed back on the air to satiate the overwhelming nostalgia ginned up by a series of ads dreamt up by one guy’s love of an old sitcom that nobody else cared about. It’s like some boot strap, time loop chicken or the egg galaxy-brained nonsense. Which, hey, is great for Braff and company. But serves absolutely nobody, save that creative director, a bunch of braindead ad watchers and me. Huzzah.

Or maybe network television is just out of original ideas and ABC couldn’t come up with any more 9-1-1 spin-offs, primetime game shows or possibly wring another season out of Grey’s Anatomy. Seriously, have you looked at ABC’s primetime lineup? It’s horrendous. Which also begs the question how I worked on a CBS show called Rescue 911 in the 90s, but they’re just allowed to have like fourteen versions of a series called 9-1-1? Whatever, man. Right, Scrubs. It’s back, and it’s pretty much the same show. Not that one from season nine. That was like Community’s “gas leak” season four where series creator, Dan Harmon, was replaced just for that season, only to return for season five. With season four being noticeably different than the season preceding it, only to return to form in season five. Despite the internet and other sources treating this new season of Scrubs as almost its own, new series, it certainly feels like the old thing. Back in the same hospital, with most of the same cast. The gags are the same. The emotion is still there. The voiceover and the goofy asides. Everything. The big difference, of course, is that everyone is older. And the season itself is only nine episodes. So, even the ABC brass weren’t fully sold on the power of T-Mobile nostalgia, I guess. And, honestly, it’s not like any of this crew is super-busy with other roles. They pop up here and there, and I’m sure Braff is busy writing fan letters to The Shins and Death Cab and stuff, but these are not highly in-demand people here as far as I know. Though Sarah Chalke is great as the voice of Beth on Rick & Morty.

I know I’m always claiming I don’t watch a lot of network TV anymore. Because I don’t watch a lot of network TV anymore. The calculus is pretty simple: 95% of it is total garbage. Like straight-up, made-for-cabbage heads garbage. It’s meant to be turned on in nursing homes for a few hours for drooling olds to give the impression the workers are giving them some sort of life. The screens flicker and give their eyeballs something to ingest, but it doesn’t really matter what’s happening. As long as there are some firemen in jeopardy or people busting in doors or speeding around in Fords. But, on the flip side, every series not on network TV feels like it has to be Breaking Bad or Mad Men. And sometimes I want something that isn’t brain rot, but also isn’t trying that hard to be much more than an entertainment. Not everything had to be high art. And while I appreciate a mystery box or a challenging, literary series, sometimes I want sight gags and Braff’s stupid, pussified, I-drink-appletinis schtick. There is absolutely nothing wrong with a well-made sitcom. And this is without a doubt a very professionally made series with actors who know and understand their characters after years playing them, and have a rhythm with one another that feels natural. Even with the introduction of the new class of interns (and actors), they feel of a piece with the main trio and hang well with their somewhat frantic energy.

I do wonder how someone with no background with the original run would feel about this season. There are a ton of in jokes that reference old episodes and situations. And coming back into a series with all these stunted people having gone through a decade and a half of life — including J.D. (Braff) and Elliot (Chalke) already having been married and divorced — and still kind of struggling with the same insecurities and foibles as they were back then might not hit the same as just knowing them in their current immature incarnations. I do vaguely recall J.D. having a kid with Elizabeth Banks’ character at some juncture in the later stages of the original series, and there is mention of a kid, Ollie, shared between J.D. and Elliott, but neither make an appearance or really factor into the season. Which is a little weird, but I suppose you can only do so much in nine episodes. Anyhow, my point is that if you just took this season in a vacuum, I wonder how it would play? Because, as a piece of nostalgia, and as a reboot, I found it rather successful. Sure, these characters that I really loved are a bit stuck in amber, but the show itself isn’t. It didn’t feel like a relic or a re-hash, but a really decent example of its form moved into 2026, taking on modern themes of social media, concierge medical service, the “apps” and dating harpists. While still maintaining the strong relationship storytelling between J.D. and Turk (Faison) and father / son, mentor / mentee relationship between J.D. and cranky-ass Dr. Cox (John C. McGinley). Even after all these years, I still consider it one of my favorite sitcoms of all time — and this season does it some justice. But, of course, I’m an old softy. We’ll see how season two of the new era goes — but I expect it to generally be more of the same. Which ain’t a bad thing.