SM: It has actually felt different for a number of reasons that I can’t necessarily talk about yet. I definitely felt more familiar with the world and on set. I was more comfortable and at home with our crew and our cast members. I felt full, but I also felt full after that audition, and then I got to play her for eight months after that. It means I had plenty of time to ruminate and to absorb all the things for this role. So coming back [to set], instead of finding my way in the hurricane, I went straight into the eye of the storm. And that’s what it’s like for Al-Hashimi, too. We’re so different, but I like that we’ve been able to walk parallel paths beautifully.
AVC: You’ve spoken about creating an expansive backstory for Baran that’s not on the page. Has that always been your go-to method as an actor for prepping a character? How has it helped with The Pitt?
SM: Not always, no. I remember one time I was working on this film called The Killing Of Two Lovers, and I worked with a brilliant acting coach, Warner Loughlin. We spent about six weeks preparing for this film. I was going through a vulnerable thing in my life at the time, and I didn’t want to conflate that with my character. It was really important for me to be meticulous about every detail of my backstory. Then when I got on set with Robert Machoian, our director, and my co-stars Clayne Crawford and Chris Coy, it was just like animals in the jungle. Nothing mattered but the present moment. One could argue that the work with Warner helped, as it always does, but it also felt like when David Mamet says that “When you’re in the boxing ring, you’re not thinking about the history of boxing.” The energy and our chemistry as a cast and crew were so palpable and electric that it just came to life, and I didn’t need to think about or prep in any way. Again, one could argue the prep is still there and working on you, and I’m sure that’s true.
With someone like Gigi [from The L Word: Generation Q], I shadowed my friend who’s a real estate agent. When I got in, something took over me with Gigi, and I didn’t argue with it or psychoanalyze it. Gigi was one of those roles where a door opened, and I let that door stay open rather than trying to understand what I was doing. Dr. Al-Hashimi was the opposite experience. I was intimidated at the prospect of playing a doctor and what it meant to cram 16 to 17 years of medical experience into a week or whatever time I had to prep, although the prep never ended and it still hasn’t. The same thing happened with Black Bird. I spoke to six or seven FBI agents to play Lauren. One of them actually saw me in a play that I did recently, New Born. For that one, I was constantly on my phone. My dressing room and living room were like a crime scene. There were all these photos and graphs all over. Sometimes the role requires a bit more rigor, and sometimes you have to listen to your instrument instead of getting in its way.
AVC: So much of The Pitt is about how the doctors react non-verbally in the ER because they’re also in the background of scenes, or the camera is so close to their face. How did that part of the show affect your acting experience?
SM: For Dr. Al-Hashimi, she keeps everything so contained. So when you have the opportunity to have a scene where the camera’s in your face, like an extreme close-up that she has in episode seven when she goes to the bathroom to call her neurologist, there’s so much bubbling under the surface. All of the work that you’ve done or everything that you’re going through is carbonating, so you don’t need to do much.
In life, we’re so good at hiding. I’ve spent my whole life, especially my childhood, trying to fit in and hide, but if you were to take a camera and stick it in my face back then, you could probably see the fear, the hope, the desperation, whatever it was. We usually see each other in medium shots or wide shots. What’s beautiful about being able to dance with the camera in this way is they are going to capture everything, which is also why you can’t lie, because when you lie on camera, people will see it.
AVC: Baran’s carrying a huge secret about her epilepsy that we don’t find out about until the end of season two. Performance-wise, what was it like to plant seeds of her illness in these episodes so that it pays off?
SM: There’s episode one’s cliffhanger, episode seven, and episode 14 where we [planted the seeds]. Uta Briesewitz was our director for the latter two. I told her how I was playing it in episode seven, when Baran calls her neurologist, so she added a shot right before I go into the bathroom to do that. I felt she had an aura coming up, and people have usually described [neurological] auras as this metallic taste in your mouth or the feeling of a deja vu. I didn’t say anything to Uta initially, but then when I mentioned it, she added a super subtle shot where we’re covering the Davis family and then the camera comes back to me, and you don’t exactly know what’s happening. Then I excuse myself and go to the bathroom.
We wanted to mark the moment as a warning or a foreshadowing of what’s to come. Obviously, we discussed what the reveal would look like. We didn’t actually have deep conversations or anything, but Uta, the way she captured that moment in 14, was going from Robby to me back-to-back. So we’re able to see in real time how it’s playing out for them and track their emotional arc. I knew from the beginning that her arc would be about her condition, so when I saw where episode one ends with the freeze on the baby, I emailed Scott to make sure that this is what we’re playing, that she has temporal lobe epilepsy, and he said yes.
AVC: It was fascinating to see all the theories after the premiere about what was up with Dr. Al-Hashimi freezing like that.
SM: Even within the cast, they didn’t know what was happening. So they were guessing too if it’s PTSD or if it’s her kid or if she lost a kid. I loved seeing how many theories came out of it. It was cool. So often, we’re watching content that spells it out for us. I love watching something when you’re left to wonder or create your own theories and hypotheses of what could be happening. I was really pleased that so many people had so many different takes on Dr. Al-Hashimi.
AVC: When Dr. Al-Hashimi finally lets out her frustrations, whether by yelling at Robby or when she’s in the car, was it cathartic for you to let out those emotions you’ve been holding onto for Baran’s sake?
SM: Totally. Maybe this is an inappropriate comparison, but I’m going to say it anyway: Holding this much tension almost feels like foreplay. You have to let it build and build and build, and if you let anything slip, then you’ve lost the drama of what’s going on with her. If you watch it back, you can see these moments and cases that affect her. Before the slash trake procedure in episode 10, there’s a moment she takes to settle herself, knowing that she’s had a seizure that morning, and then going into this procedure and going, “No, I can do it,” and then she does it and knocks it out of the park.
With the second seizure, what I loved playing was the moment after, when she’s flustered and Robby confronts her. And all she says is, “What are you talking about? There’s no problem.” It gave us further to go with the reveal, which felt like everything she’s feared in her life, and she almost feels like a five-year-old girl again. That’s what it felt like being inside that finale scene for me. I’m going to start crying just thinking about it. But she’s that girl who spent her entire life hiding, knowing or thinking in the back of her head—even though it’s not logical—that she’s going to get punished for having this illness. So when it does happen and when he threatens her, that’s when the adult snaps on, and she says, “No, you cannot speak to me like this.” And then she flips back to the child when she’s in the car and wants to drive. She’s not used to this sort of recklessness. She’s not irresponsible. As soon as she turns on the car, she realizes that she can’t be driving and breaks down.
Those are just a few short scenes, but there’s so much in there that it felt cathartic and artistically satisfying as the actor to be able to let out more of what’s happening on the inside because she’s been surfing this volcano all the time, so it was great to get underneath the surface and to be able to let that out.
AVC: Your performance in the finale earned you the Emmy nomination. What significance does that hold at this point in your career?
SP: Again, I can start crying right now, and it’s not because of the Emmy nomination. It’s just that I remember how, in 2014 or 2015, I had gone through like 13 auditions, and I had just tested for a show and had flown out to L.A. from New York. I’d auditioned for the supporting part, and they brought me back for the lead role. So I had to learn these three massive scenes in basically a night and fly across the country. I didn’t sleep. I did the test, knocked it out of the park, and didn’t get the role. After all that, I got into a car accident. And then two days later, I got into another car accident. I had a nervous breakdown. A lot of actors can relate to this, where you just push yourself and then collapse. I remember my parents came out to Los Angeles to be with me and support me. I was crying to my mom and going, “I can’t do this anymore.” And she just said, “So don’t. Stop.” That’s when I lashed out and told her how there’s nothing else I wanted to do more. She said, “Good, so find a way to do it.” Now, 10 or 11 years later, my parents were with me as the nominations were announced. It’s surreal and a testament to keep going. I bartended, I waitressed, and I taught in music schools.
At this stage in my artistic journey, first as an opera singer, then as a theater actor, and now as a fuller actor, producer, and writer, it’s incredibly validating to be acknowledged by my peers. I also realize that so many people who are just as good, if not better, don’t have that visibility. So I’m vacillating between profound gratitude, the recognition of privilege, and full immersion in the joy. I know my heart and my mind have always been in the right place, so that’s what’s most validating for me. After years of spending my early life assimilating, I feel gratitude to have this celebratory moment. I also know I say this from a position of privilege. I’m not living in a warzone or in a tent in Gaza. For those of us who have this privilege, please use your voice to bring awareness to the people who don’t have that. That’s where my mind goes.
AVC: You also made history as the first Middle Eastern person to be nominated in your category.
SM: Part of what makes this historic aspect so satisfying is being able to play a multifaceted woman like Baran, who isn’t narrowed down or restricted by her identities. They expand her humanity, and she embodies traits of the women I grew up around. It’s nice to be able to play a woman in a leadership position who is mixed race and has a neurological condition, bringing visibility to people who have a disability and chronic health conditions, and to our humanitarian aid workers, people who sacrifice and risk so much to go where help is needed most.
My family had the refugee experience, but the immigrant experience of trying to fit in—even little digs at her name at the beginning—we’ve experienced that. It’s refreshing to play a woman who is so herself. She’s flawed, but has a beautiful heart, and leads with it. She’s not someone who lives on the periphery and has problematic tropes. That’s the kind of role I would want to be nominated for. I hope that it signals more for women who are from the SWANA region, and opens doors and brings more curiosity and visibility to actors from our region who often think they don’t fit into a certain category because what they hear is “I can’t see this role as being Middle Eastern.” No, we can handle it, and we are no less than any of our counterparts. You’re not defined by your identity, and yet it is such a big part of the fabric of who you are and where you come from. But we don’t have to be narrowed into representation categories. That’s been my problem with the word representation. Yes, it’s important, but I think visibility is just as important.
AVC: What doors do you think or hope The Pitt and the nomination will continue to open for you in the future?
SM: I hope it’ll open more doors, but I’m not waiting for those doors to open for me. I’m in the process of creating something. I’m producing several films right now that I can’t talk much about, but I’m excited for this next chapter in my career. I love acting, but what I love just as much is stories that reflect different experiences. I’m looking forward to developing and producing and giving other people a chance. I love mentoring, and that’s also part of what makes this nomination so satisfying. It’s not just about the opportunities for me, right? It’s a ripple effect to be able to develop stuff that I’m not in, and that creates room and opportunities for other people who have a similar background or who traditionally are not cast in these kinds of roles that I’m dreaming up.
AVC: Does that mean digging into other genres like comedies?
SM: Oh, give me comedy. I started in comedy when I was an opera singer. That was a lot of slapstick. I miss that. I’ve done other films and shows that are lighter, like The L Word: Generation Q, and I did a film with Edie Falco in 2023 [I’ll Be Right There] that was also lighter, but I would love to fully embrace it. I actually feel so at home in the genre, but, well, I’m always cast in dramas.
Saloni Gajjar is The A.V. Club‘s TV critic.
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