The Interns review
In its apparent assault to dramatize candidly and irreverently the organize by which secondary-finished candidate medics manage to turn into fixed doctors, the cloud come hell succeeds in depicting the average intern as some kind of a Hippocratic oaf. At times it comes perilously close to earning the nickname, Carry On, Intern.
The separate stories of five interns, four male and one female, are traced alternately in a sort of razzle-dazzle style by the screenplay from Richard Frede’s novel. Three of the stories are predictable from the word go and the other two are thoroughly unbelievable.
As these personal stories unfold, a kind of cross-section of hospital life is transpiring in the background. Chief features are a rather gory childbirth sequence, a mercy killing incident and a wild party passage imitative of the one in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, but hardly as appropriate or amusing. Support characters run to stereotype, i.e. the ugly, prim nurse who removes her spex, lets her hair down, gets stinko and becomes the hit of the party.