The Good Doctor - Seasons 1-5
“Many autistic viewers have mixed feelings about The Good Doctor.”
Title: The Good Doctor
Episodes Reviewed: Seasons 1-5
Creators: David Shore 👨🏼🇨🇦 based on the original series by Jae-Beom Park 👨🏻🇰🇷
Writers: David Shore 👨🏼🇨🇦 (94 eps), Mark Rozeman 👨🏼🇺🇸 (76 eps), Tracy Taylor 👩🏾🇺🇸 (58 eps), David Renaud 👨🏼🇨🇦♿ (44 eps), Adam Scott Weissman 👨🏼🇺🇸 (40 eps), Brian Shin 👨🏻🇺🇸 (38 eps), and various
Reviewed by Li 👩🏻🇺🇸
—SPOILERS AHEAD—
Technical: 4/5
ABC’s The Good Doctor does not reinvent the wheel. It follows the career of a “genius”—straight, white, and male, of course—who is consistently underestimated. Surrounded by an ensemble of highly capable colleagues, together they take on episodic challenges while longer emotional journeys keep viewers invested, week after week.
The formula persists for a reason. David Shore’s latest medical drama since 2004’s House wraps like a cozy blanket, comforting with its predictability. With five seasons under its belt, the ever-evolving cast of (unnaturally statuesque) characters who staff the fictional San Jose St. Bonaventure Hospital generally succeed at keeping us engaged.
Doctors like resident Claire Browne (Antonia Thomas) or attending surgeon Audrey Lim (Christina Chang) bring with them compelling storylines that dabble in issues like internalized racism or personal trauma. Meanwhile, spitfire love-hate relationships between doctors like Alex Park (Will Yun Lee) and Morgan Reznick (Fiona Gubelmann), or Season 4 entrants Dr. Asher Wolke (Noah Galvin) and Dr. Jordan Allen (Bria Henderson), exchange lively tête-à-têtes that keeps this drama playful—and bingeable.
In fact, it’s the main lead of resident Shaun Murphy (Freddie Highmore) and his romantic interest, IT specialist Lea Dilallo (Paige Spara), who pose the weakest links. Their cookie-cutter journey from roommates to romantic interests to marriage reach the limitations of a network medical drama, which must appeal to wide audiences in order to survive. But even if The Good Doctor plays it overly safe, it remains a pleasurable way to spend some free time.
Gender: 4.5/5
Does it pass the Bechdel Test? YES
So many shows and movies stick women into positions of power without giving them anything to do. Thankfully, The Good Doctor avoids that pitfall. Characters like the aforementioned doctors Audrey, Claire, and Morgan, as well as Season 5’s capitalist villain Salen Morrison (Rachel Bay Jones) and an expanded role for Lea, all enjoy multi-episode arcs and hold interesting relationships with other women.
Sure, the main character remains a man. And sure, some cliches exist: For most of the series, Lea is the isolated romantic interest of Shaun; Claire easily slides into the “empathy-as-superpower” trope that seems solely reserved for women (see: Dr. Allison Cameron on House); and even Morgan can feel cartoonishly cutthroat at times, less of a real person than an Ambitious Woman. But when it comes to representation, more is more. These stock characters may have faltered in a vacuum, but afforded screen time and narrative depth, none are forced to shoulder unrealistic pressure.
Better yet, some female characters are wonderfully refreshing. Attending surgeon Audrey defies hemming in as she balances both strength and imperfection. Season 4’s supporting character, resident Dr. Olivia Jackson (Summer Brown), bucks stereotypes by being a vulnerable Black woman who is given the grace to make mistakes at work and still be supported by her colleagues and family. In short, when you have this many female characters written with such curiosity, viewers reap the benefits.
Race: 4/5
Adapted from a South Korean drama, The Good Doctor comes out of the gate with East Asian origins. Perhaps deliberate, perhaps not, this continues via its setting in San Jose, California, where Asian residents make up the largest ethnic group at 38% of the population. (Only about a quarter of San Jose residents are non-Hispanic white.)
On screen, that includes main characters Alex Park, Audrey Lim, and Claire Browne, played by Korean American, biracial Taiwanese Filipino-American, and biracial Sri Lankan-British actors, respectively. In addition, Japanese American actor Tamlyn Tomita plays a foundation chairman in Seasons 1 and 2.
Hispanic residents make up the second largest group in San Jose at 28% and we do see that among the main cast. Attending surgeon Dr. Neil Melendez, played by Mexican American actor Nicholas Gonzalez, brings a charming and wide-ranging performance for the first few seasons. But following his exit, he is never adequately replaced. Season 4’s insouciant resident Dr. Enrique Guerin (Brian Marc, Puerto Rican) defies stereotypes but doesn’t make it into Season 5. After him, Dr. Mateo Rendon Osma (Osvaldo Benavides, Mexican) does more for Audrey’s character arc as her hunky but ultimately flaky new beau than anything positive for Latino representation.
The Good Doctor also features several Black doctors and does particularly well with attending surgeon Dr. Marcus Andrews (Hill Harper), who holds down the fort across all five seasons in a thoughtful role that changes and matures over time. Season 4 introduces two Black women, Olivia and Jordan, as part of the hospital’s residency program. Darker-skinned than both Olivia and Marcus, it’s great to see Jordan continue into a multi-season role, with her personhood increasingly fleshed out.
In short, the series makes sure to keep its changing ensemble racially and ethnically diverse. However, writers seldom tackle topics of race. When they do, it’s executed with the timidity of a cat near water. And many of its characters, such as Alex and Audrey, are written to be colorblind—a strategy that remains inoffensive but misses out on the opportunity to further ground these characters in reality.
Disability: 3/5
You’ll never see me say that actors should only play roles that reflect their own identities. But that comes with a caveat: This only works when the power dynamic between communities involved is equal.
By that criteria, The Good Doctor starts at a deficit. Autistic actors seldom (if ever) see the opportunity to play neurotypical characters on network television, much less in leading parts. So it’s frustrating to see the rare autistic role still being denied to actors who fit the profile. It’s especially disappointing because Highmore is hardly the first example; shows like Monk or BBC’s Sherlock also feature leads with savant syndrome-like qualities played by neurotypical actors.
And to be sure, savant syndrome is almost always the expression of autism we see on screen. Many viewers on the spectrum have mixed feelings about The Good Doctor precisely because it adds to this pattern, pointing out how “autistic people who don’t resemble the savants on TV … encounter major barriers to self-advocacy and are erased from public life.” As late as Season 5, Shaun’s fellow residents still brag about his “visions,” calling them his “superpower.” How is an everyday neurodivergent person supposed to compete with that?
Not everything is a misfire, however. Aspects of Shaun’s story can feel relatable. When Shaun challenges Lea’s parents to better understand their relationship in “Parenting” (Season 4, Episode 8), writer Matthew Lemay says it’s “representative of how we all want to be treated, how we all want to stand up for ourselves.” Ultimately, advocate Michael McCreary speaks to the big picture: “[In Dr. Shaun Murphy], we are close to having a complicated character; we are in the apology/role model phase, but we aren’t there yet.”
Looking beyond Shaun, disability-related episodes often slip into tropes. In Season 5’s "Yippee Ki-Yay," I cringed when a son with Kabuki syndrome—albeit played authentically by Mathew Horner—introduces himself by heaping praise upon his nondisabled father. He emphasizes how his dad had to quit a job he loved “because of me,” which plays into the problematic message that disabled people are a burden. In the same episode, a perfectly healthy woman with an electrolarynx risks her life to “get her voice back.” When she eventually speaks without her device, it’s played up to be a miraculous, happy ending.
While it’s true that the very premise of any medical drama is to heal or cure patients’ ailments, it becomes damaging when the only disabled people we see on screen are trying to be “fixed.” Fully 26% of adults in the United States have a mental or physical disorder, and most are simply living their lives. Thankfully, a multi-episode arc at the end of Season 5 demonstrates just that: Actor and little person Hollis Jane Andrews plays Sophie, a documentarian who goes on a mini-road trip with Lea to source a rare mechanical part that will save Sophie’s aunt. Sophie is given the space to flourish as a character who is both wise but makes mistakes, and it hopefully signals a trend for The Good Doctor as the show heads into its sixth season.
Bonus for LGBTQ: +0.00
Writers take their sweet time in introducing any queer characters of note, but eventually do in Season 4 with resident Dr. Asher Wolke. His character starts off flat, defined by having left his Hasidic community due to his sexuality. But he blooms in Season 5, revealing more and more personality, plus a sweet relationship with a hospital nurse named Jerome (Giacomo Baessato).
Without the latest season to keep the score afloat, this category would have seen a deduction. Other than Asher and Jerome, queer representation quickly dwindles. Polyamory makes a brief appearance in Season 4 via resident Enrique, but the factoid feels handwaved, reduced to yet another piece of trivia for the #vanlife, board-shorts-wearing character.
Single-episode plots are handled with good intentions but retain an unshakable sense of moralism that venerates marriage, biological families, and monogamous love. The rare LGBTQ episode caters to a straight and cisgender audience: In “She” (Season 1, Episode 14) featuring trans actor Sophie Giannamore, her character suffers through a transphobic scene where she’s forced to explain to Shaun why she has a penis and eventually “teaches” him to stop misgendering her.
As with most longer-running series, though, The Good Doctor becomes more inclusive over time. Fast-forward to its next trans storyline, “Irresponsible Salad Bar Practices” (Season 4, Episode 9), where a man (Emmett Preciado) unexpectedly finds out he’s pregnant. Unlike in “She,” the narrative is handled without issue. Nonetheless, The Good Doctor conforms to traditional tenets: After coming to terms with the surprise, he and his fiancé decide to keep the child. Bursting with joy, the fiancé says wonderingly, “We’re going to be dads.”
Mediaversity Grade: B 3.88/5
The Good Doctor plays it safe and sticks to feel-good stories that don’t seek to challenge. Thankfully, it has at least kept pace with the times and gotten increasingly inclusive since its pilot in 2017.
As we head into the medical drama’s sixth season, scheduled to return next week, I can only hope writers continue to give back to the autistic and/or disabled community from which it takes. It may never shake the monkey off its back—a straight white male lead with savant syndrome is played by a neurotypical actor—but plenty more can be done to create authentic entertainment that benefits everyone, creators and viewers alike.
Like The Good Doctor? Try these other titles set in a hospital.
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Five Feet Apart (2019)
I Still Believe (2020)