Cory Stillman
“Real-world therapists are often very strategic about the choices they make in their offices—either revealing something personal about themselves or removing any clues that might suggest bias or a point of view, often to invite a response from the patient that says something deeper about who they are.”
That is the kind of insight you could only get from a production designer as accomplished as Cabot McMullen, whose work across both Shrinking (Apple TV) and Rooster (HBO Max) has helped both shows break out as heartfelt comedy sensations. Both shows come from the mind of Emmy-winning creator Bill Lawrence, with whom McMullen first collaborated on over 150 episodes of Scrubs throughout the early 2000s. Whether it’s a therapist’s office, a hospital, or the academic halls of Rooster, McMullen has developed a knack for elevating the design of such typically sterile spaces.
McMullen’s design approach always places the characters at the forefront of his every decision. So in the case of Shrinking, he worked closely with Harrison Ford to determine the considerations Paul might have put into decorating his office space.
“One of Harrison Ford’s first requests after signing on to Shrinking was to meet with the production designer,” says McMullen. “He builds character through close analysis of his surroundings and had very specific ideas about how Paul’s environments could reflect the physical limitations of living with Parkinson’s. Many of our design choices grew directly out of his research and instincts.”
Those choices also included placing his office within an iconic mid-century modern building, the kind of location that makes a statement and helps brand Paul’s place of work as “an innovative, disruptive practice.”
“But once you step into his office, all the personal clues have been stripped away. It isn’t until we see the interior of his home—his fortress of solitude—that we really understand who he is and what he loves,” says McMullen.
A Boston native by way of Los Angeles, McMullen cherished the opportunity to lean into Shrinking‘s Pasadena setting, just as he relished the chance to visualize a New England liberal arts campus like that of Ludlow College in Rooster. His familiarity with so many of Ludlow’s real-life counterparts lent the show a sense of authenticity, not to mention an easter egg for the ages!
“I grew up near Boston and had some firsthand experience with that world, and the writers ended up naming the college town Cabot, Massachusetts, which is the kind of sweet honor 30 years with Bill Lawrence can get you.”
Check out our full conversation with Cabot McMullen below, as we dive deeper into his impressive work this Emmy season!
Both Shrinking and Rooster find comedy and drama within the often sterile spaces of a therapist’s office and a college campus, respectively. From a production design standpoint, how did you approach elevating those environments?
Through design, I always try to tell the audience something about the characters that the script can’t fully express in words. Real-world therapists are often very strategic about the choices they make in their offices—either revealing something personal about themselves or removing any clues that might suggest bias or a point of view, often to invite a response from the patient that says something deeper about who they are. In Shrinking, and specifically within the CBT (cognitive behavioral therapy) practice, my goal was to convey that Paul (Harrison Ford), as the founder and principal, was sophisticated, well-traveled, and deeply attuned to architecture. The idea was that, when he established the practice decades earlier, he chose an iconic mid-century modern building to make a statement: that this was an innovative, disruptive practice, much as mid-century modern design once was, especially in Pasadena. But once you step into his office, all the personal clues have been stripped away. It isn’t until we see the interior of his home—his fortress of solitude—that we really understand who he is and what he loves. Jimmy and Gaby, by contrast, express themselves through their offices. In season one, Jimmy keeps his drapes closed and the plants dying, which quietly telegraphs his state of mind and lack of self-care. Gaby chooses light and color; you get a sense of exactly who she is the moment you look around the room. Our set decorator, Andrea Fenton, is brilliant at layering every set with character detail, nuance, and taste, always in harmony with the rest of the show.
With Rooster, I wanted the design to reflect the transitional moment college campuses are in today—the new world colliding with the old. As John C. McGinley’s character, Walt, says about the contemporary Elizabeth Stoddard Student Center set, “They took a beautiful Neo-Gothic building and slapped a greenhouse on it.” That central set really became a visual metaphor for the multigenerational themes running through the show.
A college campus can look and feel completely different depending on the location. For Rooster, did you draw from any real-life campuses or iconic college settings in pop culture?
Yes. Ludlow College was designed to feel like an iconic New England liberal arts school, with Williams College in Massachusetts serving as our prototype. I grew up near Boston and had some firsthand experience with that world, and the writers ended up naming the college town Cabot, Massachusetts, which is the kind of sweet honor 30 years with Bill Lawrence can get you. Showrunner Matt Tarses attended Williams, so that school is woven into our design approach in a lot of ways. Our pop-culture touchstones included the mood of Alexander Payne’s The Holdovers, the relationships in Wonder Boys, and Robert Benton’s Nobody’s Fool.
You have a background in architecture. How does that inform your approach to production design, especially on a show like Rooster?
I trained in architecture and, after grad school, practiced industrial design as a contemporary furniture designer working with Vladimir Kagan in his New York factory studio. But I was always gravitating toward visual storytelling, which eventually led me into New York theater as a set designer. As a result, my production design tends to be grounded in realism and emotional weight, while my architectural work often carries a more theatrical flair. Working across both disciplines has given me a broader range of experience and craft, and I think that mix has served me really well.
How often do you draw inspiration from the actors inhabiting your sets, especially when it comes to icons like Steve Carell and Harrison Ford?
One of Harrison Ford’s first requests after signing on to Shrinking was to meet with the production designer. He builds character through close analysis of his surroundings and had very specific ideas about how Paul’s environments could reflect the physical limitations of living with Parkinson’s. Many of our design choices grew directly out of his research and instincts. For me, it was a stimulating and deeply satisfying collaboration—one that helped reveal the nuanced layers of Paul’s character.
Working with Steve Carell was especially fun because he’s also from Massachusetts; he grew up not far from Concord, where I lived. We discovered that we both attended the same middle school, Fenn, and both played hockey, so the culture of this show is very much in our DNA. We found a shorthand pretty quickly. Steve’s physicality and comedic timing are a huge part of his performance, so I was always mindful of how many steps he needed to take before landing a punchline and sized his sets accordingly—a lesson I learned 30 years ago from my brilliant mentor Michael J. Fox on Spin City, who also appeared on Shrinking this season.
Can you tell us more about your collaborative dynamic with the costume designers on these two shows?
Shrinking costume designer Allyson Fanger has remarkable intuition when it comes to character—color, style, accessories, and trends without ever feeling trendy. It’s a tricky balance, and she does it beautifully. We always consult each other when developing new sets, and because prep often begins before a script is available, that collaboration is essential to finding the right visual balance and making sure the actors remain in harmony with one another and with their backgrounds. Rooster costume designer Heidi Higginbotham is equally fantastic. We met on another Bill Lawrence series, Cougar Town, and have worked together many times since. Heidi is brilliant at finding the right tone and making specific character choices; she loves backstory and uses it to imagine who these people are. We work closely on research and color palettes to maintain tonal consistency in every frame.
With so much overlap among the creative teams behind these shows, how has the collaboration evolved—or been streamlined—from one project to the next?
Bill Lawrence and I have a long, successful history together, and over time, that has created a very streamlined collaboration. He always brings sharp insight into the worlds his shows inhabit, which gives me plenty to work with. The trust we’ve built over the years lets him stay focused on the bigger picture because he knows I’ve got his back. Aside from Bill and his producers at Doozer, I believe I’m the only creative person working across both of these specific shows.
You production-designed more than 150 episodes of Scrubs, and Zach Braff directs several episodes of both Shrinking and Rooster. Can you tell us more about that relationship?
Zach and I always enjoy collaborating when the opportunity comes up, so it was great news to hear we would be hanging out in a scout van again. I was so proud of the results on this episode of Rooster, which was submitted for Emmy consideration. As a director, he’s also brought me in to design commercials and music videos he’s helmed, and to provide visual consulting on his new Scrubs reboot. Working on the original Scrubs for nine seasons allowed me to watch him grow from a new actor into an accomplished actor, producer, and director. He’s the real deal—curious, prepared, and always pushing every aspect of production forward. That kind of energy is contagious.
Are there any small details in Paul’s office on Shrinking that audiences might miss but that you’re especially proud of?
Yes—two details, in particular. One is the steel-frame armchairs and credenza we built for the center of the set. They’re strategically placed so that, after long therapy sessions, Paul can stretch and do push-ups to relieve the stiffness that comes with sitting for long periods while living with Parkinson’s. That detail came from Harrison’s conversations with real-world therapist Phil Stutz, on whom the character was based. The other is a series of small Carl Jung-inspired artworks we created for the wall, meant to echo what Phil Stutz calls his “tools”—visualizations designed to reach into the unconscious. I love details like that because they may not call attention to themselves, but they quietly deepen the character.
Is there anything else you’d like to add about your work on these two shows?
Only that I feel very fortunate to have been a key contributor to the Bill Lawrence canon over the years and to have added something to a genre of storytelling rooted in empathy, kindness, and optimism—worlds where the characters genuinely care for one another. That means a lot to me. It’s been quite a ride.
Comments
Loading…