Entertainment
'Hey man, are you good?': Inside Liam Payne's troubled life after One Direction
“Hey man, are you good?”
AJ McLean had reason to be concerned about Liam Payne. Since production wrapped on the new Netflix music competition series where they’d met earlier this year, the Backstreet Boys veteran and One Direction star had talked almost every day on WhatsApp — at least until Payne’s sudden two-week silence early last month.
Plus, McLean, 46, knew Payne, 31, had struggled with addiction. On the set of “Building the Band,” where Payne was a celebrity mentor to contestants and McLean the host — the two forged an unusually tight bond over their shared experience: starting their careers in the crucible of teen celebrity and later battling substance abuse.
“He was an absolute light, such an old soul,” McLean told The Times this week, describing the “very older brother” feeling he developed for Payne. “But you could tell you were talking to someone who had seen some s—, who had not lived a normal life.”
McLean, who had his three-year sober anniversary in September, said he did not believe Payne was using drugs during the period when the Netflix program filmed. He said they often spoke “candidly about sobriety, sharing stories and one-upping each other. We could laugh about it all, because if you’re still there to talk about it, that means you’re moving in a good direction.”
As it turned out, though, Payne was again fighting his demons. On Oct. 16, one day after McLean texted his final check-in, the singer fell to his death from a third-floor hotel balcony. Authorities found Payne’s Buenos Aires hotel room strewn with drug paraphernalia, and an autopsy showed “pink cocaine,” a mix of designer drugs, in his bloodstream.
The pop star’s shocking death placed a tragic spotlight on the ups and downs of the One Direction member who struggled most acutely to chart a post-boy-band course, and renewed age-old questions about how to support troubled young artists caught in the crucible of modern fame — as well as hold them accountable.
“I feel like there will never be a definitive answer as to why this happened. That’s the most painful thing to sit with. Why now? Why this way?” McLean said. “But there’s no rhyme or reason when you’re hurting and looking for escape.
“I can torture my brain about ‘Why didn’t he respond?’ But I get it. I just hope people remember him the way he was — a massive heart and a massive talent.”
A photo of Payne nestled among flowers and other tribute items at a memorial for the late singer in Argentina.
(Natacha Pisarenko / Associated Press)
In 2008, 14-year-old schoolboy Liam Payne confidently strode onto the audition stage of the U.K. singing competition “The X Factor.” Sporting the era’s ubiquitous sideswept bangs, he told the judges: “I’m here to win.”
With a rendition of Frank Sinatra’s jaunty “Fly Me to the Moon,” Payne showed off his immaculate pitch and rich vocal tone, and a rakish presence beyond his years.
“I think there is potential with you, Liam,” said judge Simon Cowell. “I’m just missing a bit of grit, a bit of emotion.”
While fellow panelist Cheryl Cole — the Girls Aloud member and future mother of Payne’s son, Bear — seemed charmed, Cowell was less certain about Payne’s solo star power. “You’re a young guy, good-looking, people will like you,” Cowell said. “But there’s 20% missing from you.”
Payne was axed from the show but, undaunted, returned to audition again two years later. It was during that 2010 stint on “The X Factor” that Cowell anointed him a member of One Direction, which would go on to become one of the most successful pop groups of the decade.
But Cowell’s initial concern over Payne’s prospects as a solo artist presaged a challenge for the young star as he sought to fashion a musical identity separate from his One Direction mega-fame. After the band split in 2016, a handful of its members quickly found popularity on their own — most notably Harry Styles, who has since won three Grammys and had the sixth-highest-grossing concert tour of all time. Payne, a gifted lyricist and voracious listener, had a steeper climb to find his own sound.
Payne, pictured while performing in London in 2012, was chosen for One Direction after his second audition for U.K. talent show “The X Factor” in 2010.
(Joseph Okpako / FilmMagic)
In One Direction, it was often Payne, born to a working-class family in Wolverhampton, England, who held the group together. The other members even referred to him as “Daddy Direction.” “When something was going wrong, I’d get a phone call. If there was an apology needed, it was me,” he recalled in 2017. “I was the spokesperson for the band, as it were, with the press and the label.”
He was no slouch musically, either. Payne could virtuosically ad-lib live through the bridge of “Summer Love” or hit piercing high notes on a cover of Michael Jackson’s “The Way You Make Me Feel.” He got more lighthearted as the band settled in, tussling with Louis Tomlinson in onstage water fights and deadpanning in a banana costume on a European tour.
As a writer, he showed a distinct wit and emotional insight, and he grew into one of the band’s most prolific pens — the collaged pop-lyric conceit of “Better Than Words” was his idea.
Yet on “Story of My Life,” one of the band’s beloved cuts, he took the most wrenching lyrics for himself: “It seems to me that when I die these words will be written on my stone. … Although I am broken, my heart is untamed still.”
“I had no idea until we spoke about his music that he was such a driving force lyrically,” McLean said. “When five individuals are put together in a group, the machine generally says, ‘You’re the pretty faces, sing. We’ve got the writers and producers to make this album the biggest thing.’”
Although he may have felt at home writing music, Payne said he found it difficult to adapt to the intense attention that came with being in 1D. As a child, he’d been diagnosed with a scarred kidney — a condition that left him fearful of drinking. But when doctors said he could imbibe at 19, “The floodgates opened,” he recalled in 2017. After performing for thousands of fans, he said, the band often would be confined to their hotel rooms, lest they be mobbed on the streets. And “the minibar is always there,” Payne said.
“I wasn’t happy. I went through a real drinking stage, and sometimes you take things too far,” he elaborated. “Everyone’s been that guy at the party where you’re the only one having fun, and there were points when that was me.”
But Tom Krueger, who spent a month with the band while working as a director of photography on 2013’s “One Direction: This Is Us” documentary, said Payne kept any struggles under the surface.
“Some of them were more standoffish, but Liam always was fun-loving and approachable,” the cinematographer told The Times. “He was pretty sensitive and empathetic. I would look at him and he would look at me and I wasn’t just a face in the mob — I was a person too.”
One Direction members Harry Styles, left, Liam Payne, Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik and Niall Horan at an event to promote their 2013 film “One Direction: This Is US.”
(Koji Sasahara / Associated Press)
Yet at the time, Styles was “the Mick Jagger of the bunch — he had this incredible confidence that whatever happened, he was gonna be on top,” Krueger said. “And some of the others, I felt like they kind of lived in the shadow of that.”
When One Direction went on indefinite hiatus in 2016, Payne looked to reframe his roles as both writer and pop star. He cut some EDM remixes as “Big Payno” and signed to Republic (and later Capitol) as a solo act. He wrote in the One Direction book “Who We Are” that he was “worried about the idea of failing outside of this band,” and said he imagined a career in songwriting because “there would be less attention on my life.”
Without his 1D brethren, though, Payne felt less sure of himself than he’d anticipated. He started going to therapy because he “couldn’t really figure out what was making [him] sad,” he said in 2019. The analyst asked him what he liked to do. “I don’t know what I like doing!” he replied.
“I remember standing in my garden at my house and just looking around thinking, ‘It’s been a lot of fun, but what do I do now that’s done?’” he recalled. “‘What actually happens at this point? Who do I call?’”
His loneliness “nearly killed him,” he said, acknowledging that he came close to acting on his suicidal ideation: “It was very touch and go at times.”
For a time, Payne found the connection he was missing in his love life. Eight years after auditioning for her as a 14-year-old on “The X Factor,” he began dating Cheryl Cole, a decade his senior, and spoke glowingly about her to the press, recounting how he watched her perform as a kid.
“Now we’re together with a kid,” he gushed in 2017, six months after the birth of the couple’s first child, a boy named Bear. “I feel like I’m ‘X Factor’s’ biggest winner.”
Payne with his partner, former Girls Aloud member and “X Factor” judge Cheryl Cole, with whom he shared a son, Bear.
(Francois Mori / AP)
Their relationship, which lasted two years, was a fixture in the U.K. tabloids. “The funniest thing was, a week before we were getting married. The next week we’re splitting up,” Payne said in 2018 of the headlines. “I just like to think we’re somewhere in the middle. You know, we have our struggles — like of course I’m not gonna sit here and say that everything’s absolutely fine and dandy, because of course you go through different things, and that’s what a relationship is.”
Payne also had recently made his first serious commitment to sobriety. In 2017, he began a two-year professional relationship with Chip Somers, a psychotherapist and sober companion who had been “put forward as somebody who could deal with people with notoriety and could be trusted to do so.”
“There was a great deal of pressure to keep it private, and quite rightly so,” Somers told The Times. “I don’t believe that anybody should put themselves into a position of pressure in the first year of their sobriety.”
Somers spent almost every day with Payne, he said, and once the performer got clean, “He loved it. Like everybody, he came alive. He had fun. He found a genuine ability to just have a laugh.” The therapist said Payne found joy in simple activities, like playing TopGolf or going 10-pin bowling. When their work together came to an end, Somers was hopeful about Payne’s sobriety.
In the following years, as he learned about Payne’s ongoing struggles, Somers said he sent the occasional text to his former client. But he didn’t want to push too hard. “When people know where help is available, they know the people they can ring or contact to get help. Really, you have to leave it up to them,” he said. “And I think it’s inappropriate to start what would almost be cashing in on their relapse.”
In 2019, Payne became the last of his 1D bandmates to release a solo single. “Strip That Down,” a bouncy Neptunes- and Justin Timberlake-style tune co-written with Ed Sheeran and featuring rapper Quavo, was a moderate hit, reaching No. 10 on the Billboard Hot 100. But it was striking for how overtly it separated him from the band. “You know I used to be in 1D, now I’m out free,” he sang. “People want me for one thing, that’s not me.”
Payne performing in 2017.
(Taylor Hill / FilmMagic)
“Strip That Down” would turn out to be his only top-10 solo single, and just three other tracks cracked the Hot 100. His 2019 debut, “LP1,” peaked at No. 111 and spent only one week on the album charts. Payne’s voice — so flexible and powerful within One Direction’s group dynamic — was more adrift as a solo act. “‘I had a bit of a problem formulating what was going on in my brain into the music at first,” he said then.
A music video director who worked with Payne during this period told The Times that he had in-depth discussions with the singer’s team, but realized upon meeting Payne the day prior to filming that “he had no clue what we were going to be doing. It was clear his team hadn’t involved him in any conversations,” said the director, who requested anonymity because he still works in the industry.
The director also was told to make the video sexier to align with a new ad campaign Payne had signed onto. “It felt like there was this persona being pushed on him, and I couldn’t get a sense for who he was,” the director said. “But I did feel this sadness coming from him — kind of like a helplessness.”
Former Payne managers Richard Griffiths, Simon Oliveira and Steve Finan O’Connor did not respond to The Times’ requests for comment.
Payne was still feeling the aftershocks of life under the 1D microscope as well. He developed agoraphobia, describing in 2019 how anxious he got leaving the house to order a coffee at a nearby Starbucks.
“I even used to have a really bad problem with going to petrol stations and paying for petrol,” he said. “I can feel it now — it was like this horrible anxiety where I’d be sweating buckets in the car, thinking, ‘I don’t want to do this.’”
He’d experimented with bouts of sobriety, going one year post-1D where his only “vice was cigarettes,” and attended Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, one time with Russell Brand.
But Payne was paranoid that anything he shared would be leaked to the tabloids, and he disliked how his “social life plummeted” when he was sober. He’d wake up early to go running and be in bed by 7 p.m., he recalled. “And in a strange way I am trying to still figure all that out and get the balance right.”
In 2019, he said, “Sometimes it doesn’t matter if you do make a mistake or the night does go a little too far. As long as I can get my job done the next day at a capable level I’m happy with, I can just write that one off as a lesson and go, ‘I won’t do that again.’ I still like to go out and enjoy myself.”
For highly scrutinized boy-band stars like Payne, “There’s a long history of being devalued except for the money you can make for someone. It’s very easy to develop an addiction to get through the day,” said Allison McCracken, a scholar at DePaul University who studies intense pop fandoms. “It’s very difficult to stop when your sense of self-worth is tied up in what made you a star. If you don’t have a strong support group to say, ‘This is a problem,’ and that other things about you are worthwhile too, it’s very difficult to stand up for yourself.”
Payne began dating Maya Henry after his split with Cheryl Cole. Here the pair attend the 2021 BFI London Film Festival.
(Joel C. Ryan / Invision / AP)
Payne was also in the throes of a tumultuous new romance. In September 2019, he began dating Maya Henry, a 19-year-old model who made headlines as a teenager because her quinceañera cost $6 million. Just a few months into their relationship, TMZ posted video of Payne fighting with the staff of a Texas bar near Henry’s home. “I swear to God, I will lay your ass out,” Payne yelled at the bouncers in the clip.
Henry and Payne would later get engaged, but by May 2022, the couple called it quits for good. Payne said their on-and-off again relationship left him feeling “disappointed in myself that I keep on hurting people. That annoys me. I’ve just not been very good at relationships. … I just need to work on myself before I put myself on to somebody else.”
As in the aftermath of his marriage to Cole, romantic problems seemed to create a new personal and professional resolve in Payne. After a few years of one-off collaborative singles, like 2020’s “Midnight” with EDM star Alesso, in 2023 he alluded to a new album in progress. That July, he posted a video on his YouTube page discussing his renewed focus, telling his fans he was six months sober after a 100-day rehab stint.
The new commitment, he said, began while attending a Hans Zimmer concert in Dubai, where he looked at the drink in his hand and thought: “You know what? This isn’t really serving me at all. I don’t really need this right now.”
A few days after his YouTube confessional, he went into more detail on Instagram about the “manic” feelings he was struggling with. Typically, he said, he’d lose his sobriety during those moments, but said he was now under the care of “some amazing people around me that kind of look after me.”
“I’ve filmed this same video about 20 times at different points this year and got too scared to put it out by talking myself out of it,” he said. “I wanna give any of you struggling the gift I was given by sharing some of the things I learned from specialists whilst I was away. … first thing I did every day was check in and it’s important you don’t bottle up how you feel.”
He’d also begun to repair relationships with his old band, appearing at the premiere of Tomlinson’s documentary and applauding Styles’ win for album of the year at the Grammys. ”I’ve suffered a bit of a dark time in my life at the moment. Honestly, I wouldn’t be here without the boys,” he said at Tomlinson’s premiere.
Payne’s final single, “Teardrops,” was released in March 2024. The song showcased his full high vocal range and featured an admission of his failures and vulnerabilities as a partner: “I don’t know how to love you when / I am broken too / Maybe your words make sense / I could be the problem, I’m so sorry.”
Yet behind the scenes, his future as a commercial solo act was uncertain, as Payne had recently split from his label, Capitol Records.
A representative for Universal Music Group and Capitol declined to comment, but sources familiar with the situation said that the label and Payne’s management had disagreements about Payne’s musical direction, and Capitol was concerned about sending Payne on tour, given his recent struggles with substance use. A month before his death, Payne and the label had parted ways.
“We are devastated by the tragic passing of Liam Payne,” Capitol said in a statement posted online. “His legacy will live on through his music and the countless fans he inspired and who adored him. We send our deepest condolences to Liam’s family and loved ones.”
An illustration from Maya Henry’s novel “Looking Forward,” which the author has said was “definitely inspired by true events.”
(Thomas Warming)
In the weeks leading up to his death, Maya Henry had been increasingly vocal online about what she described as a toxic relationship with Payne. The revelations began in May of this year, when Henry published a novel called “Looking Forward,” which she described as “definitely inspired by true events.”
The book follows a model named Mallory who falls for Oliver Smith, a former member of a boy band called 5Forward! Oliver is an addict, alternately abusing alcohol, MDMA, cocaine and prescription pills. At one point, he chases her with an ax. And in one particularly disturbing scene, Oliver gets intoxicated, begins repeatedly hitting himself in the face and rushes toward the balcony sobbing. Mallory pleads with him to come back inside.
“I’m gonna f— kill myself, okay? I want to die,” Oliver says.
In an interview prior to the book’s publication, Henry said she had “rose-colored glasses” during their relationship.
“When you’re in those situations, they kind of become normal to you. These things start happening, and it just becomes normalized in your head,” she says. “I just became so desensitized to everything going on that I was like, ‘OK, this is my relationship, and this is how it’s going to be.’ And I feel like once you get out of [it], you’re really like, ‘Oh my gosh, what was I doing, and why was I there?’”
Through a publicist, Henry declined to comment for this story.
Fans of former One Direction singer Liam Payne gather at the Obelisk to honor him one day after his death at a hotel in Buenos Aires.
(Victor R. Caivano / AP)
The future of Payne’s posthumous music and television work remains uncertain. Payne’s producer Sam Pounds decided to withdraw a planned new single, “Do No Wrong,” after intense fan pushback. “Today I’m deciding to hold ‘Do No Wrong’ and leave those liberties up to all family members. I want all proceeds [to] go to a charity of their choosing (or however they desire),” Pounds wrote. “Even though we all love the song it’s not the time yet. We are all still mourning the passing of Liam and I want the family to morn [sic] in peace and in prayer. We will all wait.”
For now, those close to Payne are trying to make sense of his death, including whether there was more they could have done to intervene — while hoping that his chaotic final days will not wholly define his legacy.
As Somers put it, remembering the “fragile, gentle young man” he’d helped get sober back in 2017: “I think to judge anybody on a night when they are very intoxicated would be a tragic mistake.”
Staff writer Jessica Gelt and researcher Scott Wilson contributed to this report.
Movie Reviews
Is ‘Josie and the Pussycats’ (2001) Really Even A Rock N Roll Movie? (FILM REVIEW) – Glide Magazine
The satirical romp Josie and the Pussycats (2001) is a fun movie. But is it a great rock ‘n’ roll movie?
Eh, not so fast on that second one. Welcome back to Glide’s quest for what makes a good rock ‘n’ roll movie. Last month, we looked at Almost Famous, a great launching pad because it gets so much right. And every first Friday, we’ll take another look at a rock ‘n’ movie and ask what it means in the larger pantheon. This month, the Glide’s screening room brings you Josie and the Pussycahttps://glidemagazine.com/322100/almost-perfect-why-almost-famous-sets-the-gold-standard-for-rock-movies/ts. The film is a live-action take on the classic comic-and-cartoon property of a sugary, all-girl rock trio that exists in the world of Riverdale, a.k.a. fictional home of the iconic Archie Andrews.
But this Josie has next to nothing to do with Riverdale and is instead a satire of consumerism and ’00s boy bands. A worthy target, and a topic that has stayed worthy in the quarter-century since Josie dropped. The film was not a hit, but it has become something of a cult classic (like many movies featured in this series).
The plot is fairly simple. Wyatt Frame, an evil corporate type, is making piles of money off boy band Du Jour. They start to wise up to his evil scheme and have to be… taken care of. Frame needs a new group to front his plot, which revolves around mind control to push consumer culture. Enter Josie and the Pussycats, who are about to have a whirlwind ride to the top. And along the way, foil a plot with tentacles so far-reaching they have ensnared… Carson Daly?
Josie is a fun, clever movie, but it doesn’t have a whole lot to say about real rock ‘n’ roll, unless you want to simply accept a perspective that it’s just another cynical consumer-driven product. Even that is an argument that can be made, as long as you’re willing to ignore underground and indie scenes and passionate artists making amazing music.
And it is true that this is a theme of Josie. The band triumphs at the end via their authentic music. But it somehow doesn’t feel authentic, which makes it something of a hollow victory. Let’s consider the criteria already established for a good rock ‘n’ roll movie, and how Josie delivers on that front. The first is in the characters department. The film dodges the previously established Buckethead Paradox, which states that “The real-life rock stars are so much larger than life that you can’t make up credible fictional versions. There is no way someone like Buckethead would come out of a writer’s room and make it to a screen.”
For better or worse, Josie dodges the Paradox by essentially embracing it. The characters themselves are cartoons, and there’s no effort at realism. Given that intent is a huge part of art, it seems unfair to call these characters “cartoons” as a criticism, and it should probably be a compliment. At the same time, they aren’t particularly memorable, which is not a great quality.
And—as a bonus—Tara Reid is perfectly cast as drummer Melody Valentine. Josie was a few years after her turn in Around the Fire (1998), an unintentionally hilarious classic that plays like a jam band afterschool special from the producers of Reefer Madness (look for this amazing film in an upcoming piece).
The acting in general is good, with Rachel Leigh Cook as Josie McCoy and Rosario Dawson as bassist Valerie Brown rounding out the band. And Alan Cumming almost steals the show as sleazy corporate weasel Wyatt Frame.
The character of Wyatt is the film’s funniest riff on a rock ‘n’ roll archetype: the sleazy, corporate manager accompanied by assorted crooked accountants. From Colonel Tom Parker to Albert Grossman to The Great Rock ‘n’ Roll Swindle. It’s all about the benjamins. Which is where the music comes in. If the music is good, that’s what makes it worth it. And Josie’s music has aged particularly well. It’s well-recorded, produced and executed. The songs are particularly catchy. The vocals are by Kay Hanley of Letters to Cleo. Much of the soundtrack sounds like a lost album from The Muffs, and one wonders why Kim Shattuck wasn’t involved.
There’s an argument that power pop was never supposed to be dangerous, and that the Muffs aren’t dangerous either. Fair on the surface, but they played real punk clubs and came from a real scene. There’s not even a hint of that in Josie. So an argument that they play pop punk (which they kinda do) is really lacking the punk part.
And it was produced by Babyface, of all people. While that doesn’t seem like it should lead to great rock ‘n’ roll, sometimes preconceptions are wrong.
That said, this is a very commercial product and sound—as catchy as it is—so maybe it’s not a misconception. Maybe the right question to ask is whether it’s all too perfect? And that’s what gives this ostensibly rock ‘n’ film a smoothed-down edge? After all, the basic ingredients are there. But part of what makes good rock good is that it feels actually dangerous. Maybe there are some actual subversive messages, or a genuine counterculture scene. And Josie simply isn’t that film. The soundtrack is fondly remembered enough that Hanley appeared live and performed the songs at a screening in 2017. That appearance also included the film’s stars Cook, Dawson and Reid.
It’s worth noting that while Cook and company obviously lip sync to the songs in the film, their performances are credible. They went through instrument boot camp, so they pull off the parts.
In the end, the film is primarily a satire of consumer culture. And even more strangely, is loaded with actual product placement. Clearly, the joke was intended to “hit harder” with real products, but having Target in the film constantly makes it feel like more of what it is parodying than a parody. Where’s the joke if the viewer actually pushes to shop at Target while watching the film? And if the filmmakers actually took money (which they almost certainly did)?
And perhaps that is the lesson for this month: a great rock ‘n’ roll movie needs to have something to say about the larger meaning or culture of the music. And while Josie may have a lot to say about culture in general, and it may say it in a fun and likeable way, it’s just not very rock ‘n’ roll. There’s no grit. Now, does it have some things to say about being in a band? Yes, though they are arguably true of most collaborations.
If someone in a hundred years wanted to understand early 21st century rock, Josie and the Pussycats is a bad choice. It doesn’t show the sweat of a performance or the smell of beer. But it’s a great choice for anyone looking for a light-hearted, fun watch with a great soundtrack. We could all use some sugar in our lives these days.
Join us again next month, when we’ll look at one of the inspirations for Josie, A Hard Day’s Night, the legendary first film from The Beatles
Entertainment
Commentary: As ‘The Pitt’ suffers a digital meltdown, a human with analog experience saves the day
This article contains spoilers for Season 2, Episode 9 of “The Pitt.”
Midway through Season 2, “The Pitt” has taken on the perils of the digital age and given me a reason to love the show as much as everyone else does.
Don’t get me wrong — I understand perfectly why so many people, including recent Emmy and Golden Globe voters, have lost their minds over the HBO Max medical drama: The propulsive day-in-the-life of a Pittsburgh ER conceit, the dazzling ensemble cast, the writers’ heroic attempts to showcase our perilously broken healthcare system, the healing power of empathy and, of course, the Noah Wyle-ness of it all. His brilliant and gentle-voiced Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch is as aspirational a character on television as we’ve ever seen.
But having recently spent almost six hours passing out and vomiting from pain in the waiting room of my local ER (which was empty except for one other man), while being told there was nothing anyone could do until the next shift arrived, I confess I have watched “The Pitt” with a jaundiced eye. The regular crowd shots of the waiting room too often reduce the afflicted into a zombie-like horde bent on making life more difficult for our beloved medical staff.
Sure it’s tough to work in an ER when you are worried about your mother’s expectations, grieving your dead mentor, struggling with addiction or worrying about your sister, but no doubt many of those in the waiting room are experiencing similar issues while also in terrifying and hideous pain.
I’m just saying.
In this second season, however, “The Pitt” gave me reason to cheer. It chronicles the day before Robby is set to leave on a three-month sabbatical, and in the early hours, we meet his temporary replacement, Dr. Baran Al-Hashimi (Sepideh Moafi). Having already attempted to force those suffering in waiting rooms to create their own “patient portals,” Dr. Al-Hashimi goes on to advocate for an AI-supported system to aid the doctors with pesky paper work.
Robby, of course, does not think any of this is a good idea and since he is always right (and no television writer is going to openly promote AI), her plan backfires almost immediately. First, with a medical notes transcription that gets Very Important words wrong and then after a complete digital blackout.
After a nearby hospital is hacked and ransomed, the higher-ups decide to defend its system by shutting it down, which means business must be conducted in the old-fashioned, paper-and-clipboards way.
The result is chaos, and a few too many jokes about young people not knowing how to work a fax machine or manage paper. Some of the more seasoned staff, including and especially the indefatigable charge nurse Dana Evans (Katherine LaNasa), remember the days before everyone carried an iPad well enough to keep things moving. Even so, Dana wisely calls upon the services of “retired” clerk Monica Peters (Rusty Schwimmer).
When the computer system at the Pitt is shut down, Dana (Katherine LaNasa), center, calls in Monica (Rusty Schwimmer), far right, who arrives to help.
(Warrick Page / HBO Max)
“Laid off by the digital revolution, not retired,” Monica corrects her. “And how’s all this digital s— working out for you now?”
This is where I cheered. I love the digital world as much as the next person currently typing on a computer to file a story that I have discussed with my editors on Slack and that I will not see in hard copy until it appears in the physical paper. But like pretty much everyone, I have suffered all manner of digital breakdowns and mix-ups, not to mention the inevitably increased workload that comes with the perception that I can do the work of previous multitudes with a few additional strokes of a keypad.
Except, of course, that’s a lie — a keypad is capable of nothing on its own. Neither are fingers, for that matter. They must be manipulated by someone whose brain has to figure out and execute whatever needs to be done. This requires an ability to navigate the ever-changing tech systems that store and distribute information (often in ways that are not at all intuitive) while also understanding the essentials of the actual work being done.
In “The Pitt,” that is the emergency medical treatment of human beings, which requires all manner of physical tasks. As this storyline makes clear, many of the medical staff do not quite understand how to order or handle these tasks without a screen to guide them.
Hence the need for Monica, representative of a large number of support workers who do understand because it was once their job to keep everything moving, to answer all manner of questions, prioritize what needs to be fast-tracked and make sure nothing falls through the cracks while also engaging with all and sundry on a human level.
The shutdown is obviously an attempt to underline the limits of AI but it also serves as a fine and necessary reminder of how readily we have surrendered people like Monica, with their knowledge and experience, to keyboards and touch pads (which, of course, don’t require salaries, benefits or lunch breaks).
But — and this is important — computers are tools not workers. Alas, that has not kept companies in virtually every industry from drastically cutting back on trained and experienced employees and handing large portions of their work (mental if not physical) to people, in this case doctors and nurses, who already have demanding jobs of their own.
But hey, you get a company iPad!
Nurse Dana (Katherine LaNasa), left, and Dr. Baran Al-Hashimi (Sepideh Moafi) have to resort to paper, clipboards and white boards to keep track of patients after the hospital’s systems are shut down.
(Warrick Page / HBO Max)
Often, including with those patient portals, what was once paid labor lands in the lap of the consumers, who in “The Pitt” are people sitting in an emergency room and likely not at the top of their game when it comes to filling out forms about their medical history or coming up with a unique password.
ER dramas, like the “The Pitt,” are inevitably fueled by the tension between the demands for speed and the need for humane care, something that is increasingly true, if not as intrinsically necessary, in all facets of our culture.
With computers in our pockets, we now expect everything to be available instantly. But when something in our online experience goes wrong, we need an actual human to help us fix it. Unfortunately, as the overwhelmed staff of the Pitt discover, those people are increasingly difficult to find because they have been laid off — even nurse Dana can’t do everything!
Dr. Al-Hashimi, like many, believes that patient portals and AI-assisted medical notes will save time, allowing the doctors and nurses to spend more of that precious commodity with their patients. But, as Dr. Robby and Dana repeatedly argue, what they really need is more staff.
There’s no point in saving a few minutes at the admittance window, or on an app, if you are then going to have to spend hours waiting for or trying to find someone who can actually help you when you need it.
That is certainly true in the medical sector, where digital technology has done little to eradicate long wait times for medical appointments or in emergency rooms. Being treated in a hospital hallway by people who can barely stop to talk to you is not an uncommon occurrence for many Americans. The U.S. is facing a critical shortage in hospital staff, with the ranks of registered nurses and other medical personnel having plummeted post-pandemic, often due to burn out.
The amount of time the staff of “The Pitt” spend with each patient, while dramatically satisfying, is almost as aspirational as the wisdom and goodness of Dr. Robby.
None of these problems is going to be solved by AI or any other “time-saving” device. We have not, as far as I know, figured out a way to extend an hour beyond 60 minutes or modified the human body so that it does not require seven to nine hours of sleep each night.
Medical institutions aside, I can’t think of any place I have visited lately that wouldn’t have benefited from more paid and experienced workers, especially those who know how to do things when computers glitch or fail.
The minute Monica sits down and starts barking orders in the ER, everyone feels much better. Here is someone who understands what needs to be done, why, and how to make it happen. Moreover, she has eyes, ears, hands and human experience enough to know that, in the end, people are less interested in saving time than getting the care they need.
In the ER and everywhere else.
Movie Reviews
Peaky Blinders: The Immortal Man review – Tommy Shelby returns for muddy, bloody big-screen showdown
After six TV series from 2013 to 2022, which caused a worrying surge in flat cap-wearing among well-to-do men in country pubs, Peaky Blinders is now getting a hefty standalone feature film, a muscular picture swamped in mud and blood. This is the movie version of Steven Knight’s global small-screen hit, based on the real-life gangs that swaggered through Birmingham from Victorian times until well into the 20th century. Cillian Murphy returns with his uniquely unsettling, almost sightless stare as Tommy Shelby, family chieftain of a Romani-traveller gang, a man who has converted his trauma in the trenches of the first world war into a ruthless determination to survive and rule.
As we join the story some years after the curtain last came down, it is 1940, Britain’s darkest hour and Tommy is the crime-lion in winter. He now lives in a huge, remote mansion, far from the Birmingham crime scene he did so much to create, alone except for his henchman Johnny Dogs, played by Packy Lee. Evidently wearied and sickened by it all, Tommy is haunted by his ghosts and demons: memories of his late brother, Arthur, and dead daughter, Ruby, and working on what will be his definitive autobiography. (Sadly, we don’t get any scenes of Tommy having lunch with a drawling London publisher or agent.)
But a charismatic and beautiful woman, played by Rebecca Ferguson, brings Tommy news of what we already know: his malign idiot son Erasmus Shelby, played by Barry Keoghan, is now running the Peaky Blinders, a new gen-Z-style group of flatcappers raiding government armouries for guns that should really belong to the military. And if that wasn’t disloyal and unpatriotic enough, Erasmus has accepted a secret offer from a sinister Nazi fifth-columnist called Beckett, played by Tim Roth, to help distribute counterfeit currency which will destroy the economy and make Blighty easier to invade. Doesn’t Erasmus know what Adolf Hitler is going to do to his own Romani people? (To be fair to Erasmus, a lot of the poshest and most well-connected people in the land didn’t either.)
Clearly, Tommy is going to have to come down there and sort this mess out. And we get a very ripe scene in which soft-spoken Tommy turns up in the pub full of raucous idiots who cheek him. “Who the faaaaaack is ‘Tommy Shelby’?” sneers one lairy squaddie, who gets horribly schooled on that very subject.
In this movie, Tommy Shelby is against the Nazis, and he can’t get to be more of a good guy than that. (Tommy has evidently put behind him memories of Winston Churchill from the first two series, when Churchill was dead set on clamping down on the Peaky Blinders.) The war and the Nazis are a big theme for a big-screen treatment and screenwriter Knight and director Tom Harper put it across with some gusto as a kind of homefront war film, helped by their effortlessly watchable lead. Maybe you have to be fully invested in the TV show to really like it, although this canonisation of Tommy is a sentimental treatment of what we actually know of crime gangs in the second world war. Nevertheless, it is a resoundingly confident drama.
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