Author: rb809rb

When The Pitt‘s executive producers first approached Shawn Hatosy with their pitch for Dr. Abbott’s season two arc, he balked. “There was some discussion early on when I joined the show about how maybe Abbott would come back full-time in season two, so I was eagerly awaiting the news,” he explains. “And then they came back to me to suggest that he’s in the E.R. in the middle of the season and I was like, what does that mean? Why am I coming in the middle? Am I dying? Am I coming in on a gurney?”

The actor came around quickly once the creators explained that they were going to have Dr. Abbott serve as part of a SWAT team. “I loved the idea,” he added.

Hatosy is currently in Toronto filming his next project, the FX limited series Cry Wolf, alongside Olivia Colman, Brie Larson, showrunner Sarah Treem (The Affair) and director Anne Sewitsky. He can’t say much about the series yet, outside of teasing that it’s “one of the best scripts” he’s ever read and that it is the sort of narrative that constantly leaves the viewer off balance. The actor is also looking forward to meeting more fans of The Pitt than on his last trip to the country. “Animal Kingdom is huge in Canada, I think it must have been on during COVID or something,” he says. “When I was here during the summer, I couldn’t walk to the elevator in my hotel without somebody being like, ‘Oh my God, you’re Pope.’”

Below, he takes a break from set to break down season two, including his The Pitt directorial debut.

Let’s start with Abbott’s SWAT storyline. When does this man sleep?

I guess he doesn’t. He has his days free and he does all this stuff. I think he’s very lonely and just trying to figure out things to keep him occupied. I really love how he brings up the therapist, because he misses the point in such a big way. I remember having a conversation with my therapist when I gave up drinking, and I was like, I need something. I found tennis through that session. So I can imagine Abbott having a similar conversation, and he probably went and tried to play golf and it was not his thing so he decided to join the SWAT team.

Without giving anything away, I’m curious if, when you were learning about this season’s arc, you thought Robby was actually going to go on his motorcycle trip?

I did. I was disappointed because I thought it was so clear to Abbott through the mass casualty event what his purpose was. Even though he’s a bit confused about how to live that out, because he’s doing SWAT, he’s still trying. I guess this is Robby’s version of self-reflection, but no-helmet motorcycle-riding… it’s disappointing.

Have you ever or will you ever ride a motorcycle?

No. I love the idea of it, but I don’t trust other people. I like to ride a bike, and then when we were shooting the roof scene in season one, that was a functional hospital. We had to stop probably 12 times throughout filming because helicopters were coming in, and our technical advisor was like, yeah those are all bike and motorcycle injuries. It was just like, well, fuck.

Did you notice an immediate shift after the success of the first season of The Pitt? Did your phone start ringing more?

I guess the phone was ringing. The way I was getting the at-bats was different. The self-tape request would come, and I don’t love to do self-tapes anyways because you’re often guessing at what they want. After some of the success of The Pitt, I was getting into meetings with casting directors rather than having to provide a self-tape. I don’t think Ready or Not 2 would have happened — they were big fans of The Pitt. I was unfamiliar with the first movie, so when [the script] arrived, I was like, what is this? But I was immediately taken with its dysfunction. It was disturbing and hilarious.

You really engage with the fandom in a way that feels unique. Do you remember the point at which you realized viewers of the show were becoming quite rabid?

I don’t think I understood it as it was happening. I’m certainly somebody that was online and paying attention to stuff, but I wasn’t on TikTok. But then I would see these edits come through, and the comments. Our fan base is so forensic, and they look and read into everything. Around the Emmy nominations, I could sense that it was taking on something totally different. Then Animal Kingdom started streaming on Netflix, and it was the confluence of those two things that made me really pay attention to what people were saying.

Have you ever felt shy or embarrassed by the attention that is being directed specifically towards you, and often specifically about you being hot? I’m thinking about the reaction to Abbott’s shirtless scene, or even the reaction to the news that he would have a shirtless scene.

I try to never take any of it seriously. Yes, that episode really blew up and it’s weird. Certainly, it creates these lines where things can get a little complicated, like if I’m out in public with my family. I don’t want to be the guy who isn’t taking the picture with the fans because I know that it means something to them. Especially when I’ve talked to fans who are really moved by the show, I’ve had people say they were struggling and then watched Abbott not jump [off the roof]. But then when it comes to me and my pasty, flabby back out in the world, yeah, it can get a little weird. I just try and enjoy it.

You directed episode nine; did that come out of those same discussions about Abbott having a bigger role this season?

Well, because I’ve worked with John [Wells] for a number of years, I’m always throwing my name out there. I remember last year we were shooting episode 15 and John was directing. Abbott had so much medical [dialogue] that episode — and I’m not Noah, OK? He’s very good at looking at that day-of and just being able to do it. Like Laurence Olivier. I take a lot of repetition and preparation. So anyways, in between takes, John was like, “Would you want to direct this show?” I’d just directed Rescue High Surf, another one of our shows, and it had just aired, so he was asking me if I’d want to do it again and on this show. I was like, I don’t know if I can do Abbott and be a director at the same time. And then I went home that night and thought, Did I just talk myself out of a job? So I made sure to call him and say, “I didn’t mean that I don’t want to direct period.” And then I think in season two, somebody ended up not being able to do it, and I was able to step in.

Did everything go smoothly?

No. (Laughs.) There were some changes in the script early on, and it caused a whole trauma to be moved into the episode. And Isa had appendicitis, and she had a lot in the episode, so we shot out of order for basically the first time so that we could put her stuff at the end. Also, the first thing that John’s office said to me when they called me about this is, “We want you to direct but we want you to know that Abbott’s in the episode.” And it was fine, because Abbott isn’t in it a lot. I don’t know how Noah did it [in episode six]. The scene I was most anxious about was filming outside; it was an exterior, and I had Howard with the oxygen on his face and he’s talking through the iPad to his sister on a FaceTime on the screen, and I’m in the scene.

Was that actress actually on FaceTime, or is that done in post?

We built a little room in the hospital, and the actress was there that day. We had her on the phone and we were able to do it live. Usually, you’d have a script supervisor read those lines and then we would burn in that image on the phone.

Did you solicit any advice?

Noah directed episode six, so he was editing and finishing it at the time. The thing about our show is that our scripts are dense. There’s a lot of pages, and we fly. The dialogue moves very fast, and so much of the show is transitioning from scene to scene in a continuous way. So you can create really beautiful transitions but if the show is long, those are the first things that are going to be cut. I had a couple that I thought were indefensible. I thought they were bulletproof. That they can’t cut them. And of course they did. The episode was very specifically written to start on [with] Robby and Dana at the hub, watching the madness, and then they share a look and she walks over to the bell and starts ringing it. So I created this very cool shot where I was over Robby, looking at the hub, hearing it and it rotated around him and found them both. I loved it, I thought it was the coolest thing ever, and then after the producers got done with the cut, it started with her walking to the bell. I was like, damn it. (Laughs.)

Can fans expect another Abbott-themed playlist for season two?

I was actually just thinking about this. I will do it for sure, because it seemed to be very popular in season one. I like to feed the fans.

On the eve of its $1,500-per-person Los Angeles pop-up, which starts Mar. 11, Noma — often ranked the world’s top restaurant — has been exposed as a creative institution that built and sustained its reputation on physical and psychological workplace abuse. The New York Times investigation, published Mar. 7, came as no surprise to the fine dining world. Star chef Rene Redzepi’s misconduct had long been an open secret. In fact, he’d himself disclosed more than a decade ago in an essay that he’d “yelled and pushed people” at Noma, explaining, “I’ve been a bully for a large part of my career.”

The revelations detail how Redzepi would assault and degrade employees in the pursuit of his exacting standards. This included punching underlings, striking them with kitchen implements and slamming them against walls — as well as threatening, according to the Times, “to use his influence to get them blacklisted from restaurants around the world, to have their families deported, or to get their wives fired from their jobs at other businesses.” The chef has since apologized.

What’s most telling is how Redzepi enacted a collective punishment theater at his restaurant in Copenhagen, which is known for revolutionizing Nordic cuisine with its emphasis on foraged ingredients and innovative fermentation techniques. His staff was forced to witness degradations against employees he believed had failed him. This complicity ritual — common in gangs, cults and other authoritarian organizations — lessens the likelihood of dissent.

I’ve long covered fine dining for The Hollywood Reporter. Yet Redzepi’s dark dynamic with his mistreated acolytes brings most to mind my experience over the years investigating L.A.’s toxic high-control groups, in which charismatic, visionary leaders — of an acting conservatory, a fitness studio, a personal-growth workshop — have wielded unimaginable power over followers to devastating effect. Like Noma, they’re hermetic subcultures in which dreams of ascension and perfection often instead turn into unintended nightmares.

The restaurant industry is known for its normalized cruelty and casual nihilism. Anthony Bourdain wrote multiple bestselling books about it, and FX’s acclaimed The Bear is an exploration of the consequences. But the singular dilemmas of its fine dining realm, with Noma as Exhibit A, are perhaps best understood not within the context of hospitality. Instead, the better analogue is arthouse filmmaking.

Both scenes exploit the desire for — and peril of — prestige. These hothouses draw an inexhaustible supply of idealistic pilgrims who’ve chosen to forego more stable and remunerative career paths in pursuit of the high-wire act that is a meaningful creative life. The vicious crucibles they then encounter are all too often rationalized as just another step along their hero’s journey of sacrifice on the way to hoped-for success. In other words, this makes them easy pickings.

In recent decades, Hollywood has romanticized haute cuisine — its aesthetics, personalities, strictures, ingenuities, excesses — in everything from Bravo’s long-running competition Top Chef and Netflix’s hagiographic Chef’s Table to the satirical but still adoring horror-comedy film The Menu. In each project, there’s an understanding that what sets fine dining apart from all other dining is that it’s a conscious performance. Those tasting menus are the original binge entertainment.

Wolfgang Puck, the industry’s favorite chef, famously pioneered the open kitchen in high-end restaurants nearly a half-century ago at Spago. This act turned diners into spectators within a stage set where the chef is the star.

Several of Redzepi’s employees described how he subverted Noma’s own open kitchen, which was an outward display of masterful technique and mindful professionalism. While they prepared dishes in view of the dining room, he crouched out of sight below the counters, jabbing his charges in the legs.

Redzepi closed the original Denmark location of Noma a few years ago, citing its unsustainable financial model, which relied on the unpaid labor of many of the lowliest of those pilgrims, who’ve now been revealed as abused. Since then, it’d been refashioned as a mobile global brand, propelled by what was until now his exalted public reputation.

It’s unclear whether Redzepi’s misconduct will hurt him and Noma. After all, if nothing else, he’s a nimble performer: virtuoso kitchen genius, community-minded symposium guru, contrite artiste. There are few others in fine dining with his range. Now we’ll see if he can pull off a villain arc.