Birth of a Notion: 1997

Showing posts with label 1997. Show all posts

Saturday, December 16, 2017

The Stressful Season

Frasier (Kelsey Grammer): I want my gifts to be remembered and cherished long after the holidays.

Martin (John Mahoney): Well, you know, nothing is cherished quite so much as the gift of laughter.

Frasier: If you want that highway patrol bloopers tape, you'll have to buy it yourself.

It is well known that the holidays, however much we may love them, bring a lot of stress to our lives.

In "Perspectives on Christmas," the episode of Frasier that first aired on this night in 1997, the members of the Crane family — including extended family members Roz (Peri Gilpin) and Daphne (Jane Leeves) — told a masseur about their stressful Christmases.

Mind you, it was the same Christmas, but each one had a unique way of perceiving the events of the previous few days, and it really began with Frasier (Kelsey Grammer) establishing the fact that he wanted his Christmas gifts that year to be memorable. He kept emphasizing that point through the episode.

Martin (John Mahoney) had agreed to participate in a church Christmas pageant and had been struggling with a high note in his rehearsals of "O Holy Night." But he didn't want Daphne to know as she had been inquisitive enough as it was.

Daphne, meanwhile, knew something was up — but she wasn't sure what. She put two and two together — while walking the dog, he had started to go toward the church "like he assumed that was where we were going," and Daphne misinterpreted some things she overheard — and concluded that Martin was dying.

In this case two plus two equaled five, but Daphne still stressed out over what she thought she knew.

Niles (David Hyde Pierce) got stuck on the elevator in Frasier's building with some of the residents, and it fell to him to go through the trapdoor in the ceiling where he would find a lever that would open the elevator door. Except for the occasions when he and Frasier played squash, Niles was hardly a physical person, but he climbed an unadorned Christmas tree to reach the trapdoor. In Niles' definition of the term, that must have qualified as heroic.

Well, that is what he did, but afterward when he looked down through the trapdoor, the other occupants of the elevator were nowhere to be found and nothing was there but the tree. So Niles, clad in a new silk suit that was susceptible to tree sap, tried to climb back down the tree.

It was a rough descent, to be sure. Viewers didn't see much, but they could surmise a lot from what they heard — and what they could see when a disheveled and grimy Niles staggered into Frasier's apartment. Daphne mentioned Niles' entrance to the masseur, but she lacked the context that Niles' story provided.

That rings so true, doesn't it? It seems no one else is ever as aware of someone's trials and tribulations as the person who is directly affected. If for example someone is late to work because of a flat tire, that person's account of the morning is likely to center on that — and perhaps not so much on the complete absence of a co–worker, an absence that could be explained by any one of several much more serious circumstances.

The last tale was introduced by a detail that Niles gave — of Roz coming to the door, snarling "Merry Christmas" to Frasier and throwing a Christmas package on the floor. The sound of shattering glass left little doubt about the package's contents.

It had recently been revealed on the show that Roz was pregnant, but she had not yet informed her mother, who lived in Wisconsin but was coming to Seattle to visit her daughter during the holidays. Roz was stressed out over how to break the news to her mother — and she had been putting on some pregnancy pounds.

Frasier, though, had already spilled the beans. When Frasier and Roz were at the cafe, a call from Roz's mother was forwarded to Frasier's cell phone. She wanted to go over the details of her flight time with Roz. After Roz went to the counter to place her order, Frasier cautioned Roz's mom that Roz had been out of sorts because of picking up some pregnancy pounds. He urged her to be careful what she said to Roz, not realizing that Roz hadn't broken the news to her mother yet.

Roz was still stressing over how to tell her mother that she was pregnant when she and Frasier prepared to be Santa Claus and Mrs. Claus at a charity event. That was when she learned that Frasier had let the cat out of the bag.

And she was furious.

That package she smashed on Frasier's floor contained champagne glasses.

Anyway, when it was obvious that everyone had been through an enormously stressful holiday period, Frasier decided to give them his Christmas presents on Christmas Eve — he intended to take each one aside and tell them all how much they meant to him.

When that was met with an extremely negative response, Frasier quickly offered to have a masseur work on each one — and that was greeted with much more enthusiasm.

And that was where the whole holiday tale was told — on the massage table.

Saturday, December 02, 2017

Of Lights and Bushels

"You'll have bad times, but it'll always wake you up to the good stuff you weren't paying attention to."

Sean (Robin Williams)

If you judge solely on the basis of Academy Award nominations and/or wins, "Good Will Hunting," which premiered on this day in 1997, was Robin Williams' best movie.

It may well have been.

When Williams died, I visited Facebook and all my friends were sharing the titles of their favorite Robin Williams movies. And they were all great choices, too. Everyone has a different fave, and it is a tribute to Williams' remarkable talent that so many of his movies made such lasting impressions on people. That is quite a legacy.

I would have picked different movies (I couldn't narrow it down to only one), but I could live with "Good Will Hunting," which was mentioned frequently that night. I only wish I had seen it sooner. It was a powerful performance, and it brought Williams his only Oscar.

That was the year that "Titanic" seemed to sweep the Oscars, collecting 11 awards (14 nominations in all) — but "Good Will Hunting" made its mark, receiving nine nominations and winning two awards. Williams was honored for his acting, and Matt Damon and Ben Affleck (who also appeared in the movie) were rewarded for their screenplay. (Damon was also nominated for Best Actor but lost to Jack Nicholson in "As Good as it Gets.")

I suspect there were lots of folks in the last decade or so who could empathize with Will Hunting (Damon). In the worst financial crisis since the Great Depression, millions of people probably found themselves working at jobs that didn't match their intellectual predispositions. In those days you found many people with college degrees who were flipping burgers and waiting tables. Still do in some places, I suppose.

But those people were forced to do so by circumstances. Will Hunting was not. Not really. He was, by all accounts, a brilliant individual, and yet he worked as a janitor at MIT — apparently by choice. Why was that?

Well, that was at the heart of the problem — and the movie. The answer wasn't easy to find.

Will Hunting seemed to provide an answer when he spoke admiringly of people who were engaged in manual labor. In his mind, that was real work and worthy of respect and admiration. Mathematics, on the other hand, was not real work. Not to him. Real work required effort.

Will made finding answers look easy. At the beginning of the movie a math professor (Stellan Skarsgard) challenged his students to solve a complex mathematical problem that took multiple chalkboards to present. The professor told the students that few people had been able to solve the problem over the years.

The answer was found written on a board in the hall outside the lecture room the next morning. None of the professor's students would admit to having written it; turned out that Will had written it.

Among other things, there is frustration in being able to see true genius in others and pursuing it yourself but falling short. To be fair, the professor had experienced a certain amount of success in his field, but like Salieri in "Amadeus," he was bewildered when he saw someone who was truly gifted and for whom the application of that gift was effortless but who was almost casual in his treatment of it.

There were many people who tried to help Will find his way — the professor, one of Will's childhood buddies (Ben Affleck), a girl he met (Minnie Driver).

And then there was a therapist (Williams), who had been the professor's college roommate and stood in awe of the professor's intellect. The professor reached out to the therapist when Will ran afoul of the law as a condition for Will's release.

As Williams and Damon explored Will's psyche, it became a journey of discovery for both characters.

Damon's character was driven in part by an affinity for his old friends and neighborhood and in part by emotional injuries suffered earlier in his life. Childhood was clearly a mixed bag for Will.

Williams' character had his own wounds, and he helped Will get on the road to recovery by sharing them. Damon and Affleck put the words in Williams' mouth, but they were good words, and he delivered them with such feeling that the audience believed them to be true. In some ways, I think they were.

"Good Will Hunting" also received Oscar nominations for Best Picture, Best Director (Gus Van Sant), Best Actor (Damon), Best Supporting Actress (Driver), Best Original Dramatic Score, Best Original Song and Best Film Editing.

Had it not been for the language in the movie and the release of "Titanic" a few weeks later, I am convinced that "Good Will Hunting" would have been a bigger Oscar winner in the spring of 1998 — although I am less convinced that it was the best movie of the year. A blockbuster like "Titanic" can come along and overwhelm everything else at any time.

As for the language, well, it wasn't pleasant, but it is an undeniable fact of life that people use those words in everyday conversation — a lot more than they did just a few decades ago. It is realistic for characters to use that kind of language in movies — but it probably was not as commonplace in 1997 as it is today.

Thus, while "Good Will Hunting" was not the big Oscar winner a couple of decades ago, it might well be if it was being released today — even with "Titanic" in the mix.

Saturday, November 18, 2017

What Happens on Board ...

Frasier (Kelsey Grammer): Latin singing sensation, Carlos 'the Barracuda' del Gato?

Roz (Peri Gilpin): Don't you remember him from the '70s? He invented that big dance craze, the Barracuda.

Niles (David Hyde Pierce): Believe it or not, Maris was a big fan of his.

Frasier: No.

Niles: Yes, that was the one dance she could do. The Hustle was too strenuous. She had no booty to shake.

It was common knowledge in the Frasier series that Frasier (Kelsey Grammer) liked rubbing elbows with celebrities.

Ordinarily he had a policy against doing commercial endorsements so when Roz (Peri Gilpin) approached him about an offer from a cruise line — a celebrity entertainer had canceled on a trip to Alaska, and if Frasier would give a lecture on the ship, he and Roz could travel for free — he was hesitant.

Until Roz dropped a few names of well–known folks who had gone on the cruises. Then Frasier was eager to go.

But Frasier's party didn't stop at two. The rest of the family came along as well. Frasier invited his father (John Mahoney) to accompany him — although I believe that must have happened off camera — then he invited Niles (David Hyde Pierce), who was despondent because his estranged wife, the often–mentioned but never truly seen Maris, was skipping town on their anniversary. Niles had hoped they could spark a reconciliation on their anniversary, but that had been taken away. To Switzerland.

So Frasier invited Niles along to help him forget.

Once on board the ship, Frasier discovered that the accommodations were not as lavish as he had been led to believe, and the other celebrities were far from A–listers. The only one the audience saw, other than Frasier, was Carlos "The Barracuda" Del Gato (Miguel Perez) — and he seemed to be primarily interested in Roz.

And then Maris showed up. The audience never saw her, but she was there. She kept sending waiters over to Niles' table to throw glasses of champagne in his face after he fell into the clutches of a man–crazy woman from his country club.

Apparently Maris had seen them together and concluded that Niles was cheating on her.

And Niles concluded that, if Maris thought Niles was having an affair, she would have one, too, to punish him. The Barracuda appeared to be made to order.

Frasier and Roz set out to talk to Maris, but she wasn't in her stateroom when they got there (they were let in by a maid who assumed they were the guests who were staying in that room). But when Maris arrived and was opening the door, Frasier and Roz slipped into the bathroom.

"Why are we hiding?" Roz wanted to know. "We came here to talk to her."

"Because it's impossible to extol the virtues of trust," Frasier replied, "to someone whose room you've just broken into."

But it turned out to be Martin, who came into the bathroom — sending Frasier and Roz scurrying for the shower, prompting Frasier to exclaim, "The shower is bigger than my entire cabin!"

Anyway, it turned out that Niles and Maris had begun a reconciliation of sorts. They had taken a stroll on deck and talked things out, and Maris had invited Niles back to her cabin for a glass of champagne.

Niles found Frasier, Martin and Roz hiding in the bathroom — and shooed them away so he and Maris could be alone.

Nothing special to take away from this episode, I suppose. Just one of those episodes that I always enjoy.

Saturday, November 11, 2017

Following One's Calling

Niles (David Hyde Pierce): Sorry I'm late, I stopped half way to listen to a jolly band of Frasier Crane Day carolers. I tried to join in on "The Twelve Days Of Frasier" but forgot the words around day seven. How does it go again?

Frasier (Kelsey Grammer): I believe it's "seven snobs a–sniping."

As anyone who saw him on Cheers! or Frasier could tell you, Frasier (Kelsey Grammer) was as elitist and narcissistic as they come. He seldom failed to exploit an opportunity to be the center of attention.

But he was also deeply devoted to his work as a psychiatrist and truly did want to help people. Sometimes that was a problem for him.

Case in point: In the episode of Frasier that first aired on this night in 1997, "The 1,000th Show," those two elements of Frasier's decidedly complex personality came into direct conflict.

Frasier was about to mark his 1,000th program on fictional radio station KACL, and the station was making a big to–do over the externally modest but secretly — or, at least, not so secretly as far as his brother Niles (David Hyde Pierce) was concerned — pleased Frasier.

Frasier had given the impression that he found all this fuss distasteful, but the truth was that it gave his ego the stroking he so desperately craved.

And it drove Niles mad.

To be fair, Niles was already a little put out. When the episode began, he was peeved because the waiter at the cafe knew Frasier's "usual" but didn't have a clue what Niles' "usual" was — even though Niles frequented the cafe about as often as Frasier did.

But when he learned of Frasier's honor, he became extremely jealous. The series was into its fifth season, and the sibling rivalry between Frasier and Niles had been well established by this time so Niles' reaction was good for some laughs.

But the episode took something of a turn in the second half.

Frasier was feeling a bit jittery prior to the Frasier Crane Day celebration at the base of the Space Needle, and he suggested that he and Niles go for a walk to relax and clear their heads. A series of events — not all of which were seen by the viewing audience — left Frasier with ruined shoes and no money (after they had been mugged), and they could see the Space Needle from where they were but it was still a long way away.

Niles, who had been consumed with envy earlier, suddenly had a change of heart — and the true nature of the Crane brothers' sibling relationship became apparent.

Niles had begrudged his brother's big fuss, but now he was determined to see to it that Frasier got to the Space Needle, if only for a curtain call.

So Niles went off with a quarter they had taken from a blind street musician (it's a side story that has to be seen) to call for a cab. But just after he left, a limo driver pulled up in front of Frasier and offered him a ride to the Space Needle. Frasier accepted.

On the ride, Frasier learned that the driver was trying to decide whether to catch a flight to Pennsylvania for his ex–wife's wedding. His main motivation was to see his two children, who had lived with their mother since the divorce. Apparently, they didn't have a very good relationship, and the viewers got the sense that he wanted to make it up to them in some way, but he was torn. Perhaps they would be better off if he didn't go.

About that time the limo arrived at the Space Needle, but Frasier's commitment to helping others was getting the better of his desire to be the center of attention, and he started asking the driver — who said his name was John — about his kids.

I guess Frasier never made it to his big day, but one got the sense that he would be much happier counseling John. I guess that is the test of a true professional.

Saturday, September 30, 2017

A Horse Is a Horse

The sibling rivalry between Niles (David Hyde Pierce) and Frasier (Kelsey Grammer) made for some of the best episodes of the Frasier series, and the episode that first aired 20 years ago tonight ("The Gift Horse") was one of the very best.

Their father, Martin (John Mahoney), was observing his 65th birthday. Frasier and Niles were known to have battled to outdo each other in the birthday gift department for years, but this was a milestone birthday so the competition was particularly intense.

Initially they had agreed to limit their spending, but that agreement quickly fell through, and the brothers escalated the stakes rapidly.

Frasier thought he had finally won when he agreed to buy a big–screen TV for his father. He hated the idea, had been resisting it for years but finally agreed to do it just to see Niles "twisting and writhing in agony."

But then he observed that Niles wasn't twisting and writhing. Niles, it turned out, had topped him by acquiring the horse Martin had ridden when he was on mounted patrol.

Niles had tracked down Martin's old police horse and had found out that he was a week away from being put out to pasture. So he bought the horse and set him up in a stable where Martin could visit him whenever he wished.

Yes, it did appear that Niles had won the sibling competition — until his father, who was initially excited by the gift, turned morose. Niles began to doubt the wisdom of buying the horse, not realizing that his father was a bit stunned by the realization that both he and his horse had grown older.

And he was feeling a little sorry for himself, but he insisted that it was the best gift he had ever received.

For reasons that weren't entirely clear, Niles shared the credit with Frasier, who in turn insisted that it had been mostly his brother's idea.

It was a nice commentary on aging, but I have to admit that I was a little disappointed in the ending. It struck me as anticlimactic, and I expected better from the writers for Frasier.

Saturday, September 23, 2017

Did He or Didn't He?

When the season premiere of Frasier aired on this night in 1997, I have to admit to feeling a bit odd.

You see, when the season ended a few months earlier, Frasier (Kelsey Grammer) had been on the receiving end of some phone messages that had been intended for someone else. They were from a woman who sounded like a perfect match for Frasier so when one of her messages provided details about when she would be arriving at the Seattle airport, Frasier decided — on a whim — to go to the airport and offer her a ride to her destination rather than let her sit there and wait for a ride that would never come.

Only about eight months earlier, I did kind of the same thing. I hadn't been the unintended recipient of phone messages; in fact, I had become acquainted with a young lady online and she told me she was going to be getting a connecting flight at the Dallas–Fort Worth airport. I agreed to meet her there — and we passed a pleasant hour together as we waited for her next flight. There had been no expectations or commitments made — in fact, we haven't been in touch for many, many years — but I could relate to the thrill Frasier felt in doing something impulsive.

It turned out she wasn't perfect for him after all. Primarily she was married, but she did seem to be his type. And he admitted to her that he had liked the sense of adventure he felt when he drove to the airport.

Even after he saw her off, Frasier was still on that adventure buzz and decided to tag along when he met a beautiful woman bound for Acapulco.

That is where the season–opener that aired 20 years ago tonight — "Frasier's Imaginary Friend" — comes in.

Frasier had a few misfires on the plane. The woman he had followed was creeped out when she found out why he was there and quickly switched seats; then Frasier thought he had found a substitute only to realize she, like the one he had met at the airport, was married.

Both were quite attractive — but not as beautiful as the third woman to cross his path. (As inept as Frasier was at relationships, I always admired his ability to at least get things started with beautiful women.) She turned out to be a supermodel (played by Sela Ward), and Frasier managed to strike up a real relationship with her that appeared to be more than a temporary one.

Ward's character was modeling to pay for her education at the University of Washington, where she was studying zoology, but she was also in a relationship with a professional football player. She was in the process of breaking up with him, but she asked Frasier to say nothing about it. Given the work they did, they were in the public eye, and Ward's character preferred to keep the situation private "for now." Frasier agreed to say nothing.

But that promise created problems for Frasier.

Back in Seattle, his family and friends presumed that he had struck out on his excursion to Mexico, and Frasier desperately wanted them to know the truth — that he was in a relationship with a supermodel who was studying zoology and had been dating a professional football player but was leaving him to pursue a relationship with Frasier.

What was so hard to believe about that?

Anyway, when Frasier learned that she had been invited to participate in some zoological work in the Galapagos Islands for a couple of months, Frasier realized it would be difficult for him to persuade his family that she wasn't a fantasy.

So after they made love and Ward was sleeping, Frasier tried to take a selfie of himself in bed with her, but the camera malfunctioned, and Ward woke up and discovered what was going on. She stormed out of the apartment.

No sooner had she left than Niles (David Hyde Pierce), their father (John Mahoney) and Daphne (Jane Leeves) arrived, and Frasier tried to tell them that his supermodel girlfriend had just been there. They still didn't believe him.

But then she returned, chewed him out and left. Frasier's family stood there silently with their mouths hanging open.

It was all the proof Frasier needed that his trip to Mexico had been successful.

I thought it was a funny episode, but the ending was bit too forced, all for the sake of the punch line:

"What do you think of me now?"

Tuesday, July 11, 2017

Is There Anybody Out There?

"The universe is a pretty big place. It's bigger than anything anyone has ever dreamed of before. So if it's just us, seems like an awful waste of space. Right?"

Ellie (Jodie Foster)

I am not a science fiction fan. That is something I have said frequently — but I do like good stories, which is something I also say frequently, and I feel that, if you're going to make a science fiction movie, make it plausible.

In my mind, implausible science fiction is something like "Sharknado" or some similar monster wreaking havoc on civilization. Such sci–fi stories are entertaining but not once will you think that it is something that could really happen.

I like science fiction that makes a clear connection to the actual human experience. Violence and destruction need not be part of the equation, particularly if they originate with a make–believe monster. In fact, I prefer it if they do not.

See, I don't believe that a good story needs splashy special effects. And a science fiction story doesn't need to promote the worst kind of fear. The best science fiction stories explore ideas.

Film critic Roger Ebert made an interesting observation after he watched "Contact" again many years after seeing it for the first time. "'Contact' is a film that takes place at the intersection of science, politics and faith," he wrote. "Those are three subjects that don't always fit easily together."

No, they don't, and especially not today when we are so sharply divided along those very lines.

For that reason, I tend to think that "Contact" could not be made today. Too many groups would be offended by something that was said or done — or both — in the story. Any director who took on such a cinematic challenge would almost certainly end up with something that, at best, faintly resembled his/her original vision.

I have always felt that movies were a special kind of free speech, of self–expression. To be intimidated into not doing or saying something in a movie is a denial of one's free speech. As always, of course, there are limits to free speech. One cannot, after all, do the theatrical version of yelling "Fire!" in a crowded public place.

But as long as that line is not crossed, filmmakers should be permitted freedom of expression.

I agreed with Ebert; the movie was a lot bolder than I first thought.

The main character was Foster, who played a scientist searching for evidence of extraterrestrial life. Foster's character was an atheist who pursued an interest she had cultivated since childhood, inspired by her father who reasoned that, in the vastness of space, it would be a waste if the only intelligent life to be found existed on our planet. Beyond science she had no apparent faith in anything.

Representing faith was Matthew McConaughey, a Christian philosopher and member of a panel charged with selecting someone to travel in a space transport, the schematics for which had been provided to the Earth by aliens many light–years away. He was looking for much the same thing Foster was, but he readily admitted that whoever was sent to explore the heavens had to have faith in God — and that, as far as he was concerned, disqualified Foster.

The political part was represented by Tom Skerritt, the president's science adviser who wanted to halt the funding for the SETI (Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence) program for which Foster's character worked because he believed the objective was pointless.

Ebert described Skerritt's character and his ilk as "see[ing] aliens, God and messages from space all in cynical political terms. They justify their politics with the catch–all motive of 'national defense.'"

There was a time — not really so long ago — when discussions of religion or politics simply weren't done in public settings and comparatively rarely in private — at least not in the sense of whether one was good or evil for holding certain beliefs. But that time had gone long before "Contact" was made, and whereas, as Ebert wrote, "Hollywood treat[ed] movies like a polite dinner party: Don't bring up religion or politics," the subjects had been raised routinely in the movies for years before "Contact." If anything, the animosity between religion and politics has grown more intense in the intervening years.

In short, "Contact" is a movie that still has relevance to new audiences. And, in the tradition of the best science fiction movies I have seen, it raised questions as it entertained. It retains its ability to challenge once deeply held convictions.

In the movie, Skerritt was originally chosen to pilot the space vehicle, but a terrorist leveled it. A second vehicle, about which the public had known nothing, was revealed, and Foster's character was given an opportunity to operate it in space.

Then, after Foster experienced what seemed to be a remarkably revealing journey but may only have been an hallucination, she was forced to concede that, contrary to her earlier public remarks, maybe she did have some kind of faith in something after all.

An incredulous panel member said to her, "You come to us with no evidence, no record, no artifacts. Only a story that to put it mildly strains credibility. Over half a trillion dollars was spent, dozens of lives were lost. Are you really going to sit there and tell us we should just take this all on faith?"

Foster replied, "Is it possible that it didn't happen? Yes. As a scientist, I must concede that, I must volunteer that."

Under questioning from a panel member (James Woods), Foster admitted that she had no evidence to support her story, that she might have hallucinated the whole thing and that, if she had been on the panel, she too would be skeptical.

"Why don't you simply withdraw your testimony," Woods demanded, "and concede that this 'journey to the center of the galaxy' in fact never took place?"

"Because I can't," Foster replied. "I had an experience. I can't prove it, I can't even explain it, but everything that I know as a human being, everything that I am tells me that it was real! I was given something wonderful, something that changed me forever, a vision of the universe that tells us, undeniably, how tiny and insignificant and how rare and precious we all are! A vision that tells us that we belong to something that is greater than ourselves, that we are not, that none of us are alone! I wish I could share that. I wish that everyone, if only for one moment, could feel that awe and humility and hope. That continues to be my wish."

In other words, science and faith are not mutually exclusive. Perhaps they have been explaining the same things in different ways.

A word or two must be said about the movie's director, Robert Zemeckis — although those thoughts have mostly been expressed by Ebert, who wrote that Zemeckis' work "often employs daring technical methods."

Ebert observed that Zemeckis mixed animation and live action in "Who Framed Roger Rabbit?" years before computer–generated imagery progressed from short to feature–length films and seamlessly inserted Forrest Gump into historic footage (something Woody Allen did in "Zelig" more than a decade earlier).

In "Contact," Zemeckis did something similar, inserting actual news anchors from CNN into the movie, reporting on this development in space travel. Zemeckis even inserted footage of then–President Bill Clinton into the story. Clinton's part was real. He wasn't performing in the movie; his words weren't about what the audience had just seen, but what he said certainly made sense within the context of the story.

Consequently it seemed real — until you remembered that you had seen nothing of this in the news.

Zemeckis didn't just break the fabled "fourth wall." He knocked it down.

"Contact" received only one Academy Award nomination (Best Sound), but, in keeping with the rest of the evening, lost to "Titanic."

Sunday, July 02, 2017

Ship of Dancing Fools

"There's no such thing as too late. That's why they invented death."

Charlie (Walter Matthau)

Walter Matthau and Jack Lemmon made a wonderful comedy team. Individually, they were great; together they were even better.

And together they made nearly a dozen movies. If you want to see them at their best, though, I tend to recommend their early efforts. At some point, they began to lose their edge. Toward the end, their movies shouldn't have been made at all.

Now, that's just my opinion. I confess that there were things about some of their later movies like "Grumpy Old Men" that I thought were good, but I still think most of their later efforts shouldn't have been made.

I put "Out to Sea," which premiered on this day in 1997, at the top of that list. I know people who feel differently, and that's OK. Lemmon and Matthau were always terrific together, even when the material wasn't worthy of them.

And their efforts really were wasted in this one.

Maybe they were victims of their own success. When they were together, they were typecast in the public mind as the characters they first played in "The Odd Couple." Matthau was usually the flawed but generally affable one while Lemmon was the fussy, fastidious one — Oscar and Felix. The characters had different names — except in the thoroughly inadequate sequel the two made in 1998 — but otherwise they were quite similar.

In "Out to Sea," they were brothers–in–law, just as they were more than 30 years earlier in "The Fortune Cookie," their first (and possibly best) movie together.

But this was no sequel.

In that first movie Matthau played a shyster lawyer with a weakness for angles and loopholes. In "Out to Sea," his weakness was gambling. He liked it and he knew how to place bets; he just wasn't very good. To get away from all the folks to whom he owed money, Matthau conned Lemmon — the husband of his late sister — into accompanying him on an all–expenses–paid cruise to Mexico. But he didn't tell Lemmon the catch until the ship was on its way — Matthau had signed them up to work as dance hosts aboard ship.

Now, as I say, Matthau was a bad gambler, but he did know how to place bets. He had no clue how to dance.

Lemmon knew how to dance. By his own admission, he and his late wife had been dancing for decades.

They both ended up falling in love. Lemmon's love interest was Gloria DeHaven in what turned out to be her final movie role.

Matthau fell in love with Dyan Cannon, perhaps more because he believed her to be wealthy than because of her physical qualities. At age 60, Cannon was probably too old to be playing the kind of sexpot love interest that she did — although she did come across as younger than Matthau by comparison and was almost still capable of pulling off playing a much younger woman.

But Cannon, now 80, was one of those women who remained beautiful late in her life, and at the time "Out to Sea" was made, she still possessed attributes that the 76–year–old Matthau could appreciate. In his character's colorfully vivid way, he described one such attribute this way: "An ass so beautiful it's a shame she has to sit down on it."

The story was amiable enough, and it was always hard not to like Lemmon and Matthau, but "Out to Sea" nearly achieved the unthinkable.

"Out to Sea" should have been put out with the trash.

Just my opinion, you understand.

Tuesday, May 23, 2017

Same Old Same Old

Steven Spielberg is probably the most gifted filmmaker of my lifetime.

But I'll be the first to say that sequels are just not his thing.

He's a terrific story teller, but his inclination is to tell the story in a single sitting, usually not in installments — even when the response to one of his movies appears to be a cry for more — and move on to the next project.

"Jaws," for example, was great. The sequels, not so much. But Spielberg really didn't have a hand in them.

Inexplicably, he was the director of both the original "Jurassic Park" and "The Lost World: Jurassic Park," which premiered on this day in 1997. The original was a first–rate example of Spielberg's filmmaking at its best; the second was an uncharacteristic example of giving in to the temptation to make some easy money essentially repeating yourself.

Well, it might have been better if Spielberg had repeated himself. Instead he tried to concoct an entirely new story with basically the same ingredients. Spielberg knows how to push all the right buttons to get the desired response from the audience, but these movies centered on the dinosaurs that had been created by Richard Attenborough's character in the first movie. It was almost as if Spielberg directed a documentary.

(That would have pleased my journalism professors. Their advice to us was always that, whenever we wrote about something, we should be like flies on the wall. "The reader shouldn't even know you're there," one of my professors said.)

Attenborough had a cameo role in the sequel. So did the child actors who played his grandchildren in the earlier movie.

And Jeff Goldblum was back — but none of the others returned. Instead you had Arliss Howard, Julianne Moore and a whole new cast of good guys and bad guys, all brought together to explore an island where the dinosaurs had been bred before being brought to Jurassic Park where they would be the main attraction. When the park was abandoned, the isolated supply island was forgotten.

Except by the audience. If I remember correctly, there was nothing to forget because this island was never mentioned in the original.

That was just one of the many hurdles Spielberg had to clear in order to make this movie. And I guess he succeeded in most of his objectives, but when the movie was finished and showing in the theaters, it lacked the one thing it needed the most, the one thing that just about every Spielberg movie has — a sense of awe, of wonderment.

Call it the Wow Factor. It is when Spielberg merges all the best elements of filmmaking that are at his disposal at the time.

I remember that moment in the original "Jurassic Park." It was when all the guests saw a wide assortment of dinosaurs in an open field. There was no comparable moment in the sequel.

I'm not saying Spielberg didn't try. But the dinosaurs in his sequel were always aggressive. The audience knew why, of course, and understood. But it got in the way of what one expects from Spielberg. He is the gold standard, always on the cutting edge.

His imagination takes us places we never dreamed we would go. He does the dreaming and turns it into movie reality. To borrow the words of 19th–century British poet Arthur O'Shaughnessy, Spielberg is "the music maker and the dreamer of dreams."

Sequels just aren't his thing.

Making movie magic is his thing.

Spielberg has never struck me as a director of violent movies. I know he directed "Jaws" — but the shark never became a malevolent monster. It did what animals do — it hunted for food. In "The Lost World: Jurassic Park," the dinosaurs were malicious. They killed indiscriminately. Hunger had little to do with it.

Oh, there was a sense of wonder — initially — from some of the cast members — and most of the folks in Spielberg's audiences.

It could hardly be avoided. Spielberg's dinosaurs appeared to be the real thing. It was hard for audiences, whether watching the original or the sequel, not to be astonished by what they saw.

But where Spielberg came up short was by not reimagining the material and coming up with a unique story that did the visuals and the human characters justice.

That's when Spielberg has always been at his best — when, in addition to the movie making bells and whistles, he also gave audiences a story that surprised them, that wasn't what they expected.

Film critic Roger Ebert agreed with me, by the way.

"Perhaps the time to do the thinking on this project was before the first film, when all the possibilities lay before Spielberg," Ebert wrote 20 years ago. "He should have tossed aside the original Michael Crichton novel, knowing it had given him only one thing of use: an explanation for why dinosaurs might walk among us. Everything else — the scientific mumbo–jumbo, the theme park scheme — was just the recycling of other movies."

Recycled is the right word, I think. When I saw "The Lost World: Jurassic Park," at a theater, I kept thinking that I had seen it before — just not with dinosaurs. I still can't say that it reminded me of a specific movie, just a genre — the monster movie.

Another thought that I had was that Spielberg's dinosaurs were always getting loose and terrorizing humans in the rain. In the original movie, it was during a rain storm — at the time I presumed it was some sort of tropical storm — that the dinosaurs escaped their pens and roamed the island.

They did essentially the same thing under the same circumstances in the sequel, and when I watched the movie, I presumed again that it was some sort of tropical island.

But then the plot called for one of the adult dinosaurs to be taken to San Diego where, sure enough, it was raining. Now, San Diego has a very agreeable climate most of the year with little rain — maybe a foot or so all year.

So that part, that this vessel carrying a living dinosaur, arrived in San Diego on one of the few rainy days of the year, probably surprised some people in the audience — but that really isn't the kind of surprise I've been talking about.

It was more recycling.

Saturday, May 06, 2017

Resolving a Family Crisis

"As we speak, hordes of viral Visigoths are hurling themselves over the battlements of my immune system, laying waste to my ... Oh, dear God, you see how weak I am? I can't even finish a simple Visigoth metaphor."

Frasier (Kelsey Grammer)

Take it from me.

I've lived nearly my whole life in the South. The heat makes people irritable.

Not all people. I've known some people in the South who thrive in the heat.

In the South you get used to the idea that it is going to be hot for more than half the year (as a child I often wondered how people in this part of the country survived in the days before air conditioning) — but there are always breaks in the heat, maybe a day or so, that remind people what is waiting for them a few weeks — or perhaps months — down the line.

That is true even here in North Texas. We don't get many breaks from the heat, but we usually have a few punctuating the triple–digit days. They make the often brutally hot days of summer somewhat easier to take.

But that doesn't change the fact that the heat makes people irritable.

They have hot days up north, too, but they aren't prepared for it. That was a big part of the problem in the episode of Frasier that aired 20 years ago tonight, "Daphne Hates Sherry."

Folks in the Pacific Northwest simply aren't prepared for the heat. Heat waves are rare in Seattle, but the city was struggling with one in the episode of Frasier that aired 20 years ago.

That was clearly a factor, but it wasn't the only one.

Sherry (Marsha Mason) was spending the nights with Martin (John Mahoney) on a regular basis, and that led to conflicts between her and Daphne (Jane Leeves), who was accustomed to making the household decisions. I suspected that, under those circumstances, there would have been friction even if Seattle wasn't experiencing a heat wave.

Heat waves do affect people, though. Frasier (Kelsey Grammer) was struggling with the flu, which may or may not have had anything to do with the heat. I've heard of summer colds all my life — I've even had one or two — but I can't say I can recall hearing of people having the flu during hot weather (except in Stephen King's "The Stand"). Niles (David Hyde Pierce) was sweltering in his large, unair–conditioned apartment.

Anyway, after a quarrel with Sherry, Daphne stormed out of the apartment and ended up at Niles' door asking to spend the night. This was a few years before Daphne and Niles ended up getting married, and having Daphne at his door was a fantasy come true for Niles.

And for awhile they engaged in the kind of playful conversation people in such a situation would be expected to have. They were almost flirtatious — and, at the same time, they were hesitant to cross the line, aware perhaps that, if they did, there would be no going back.

(Indeed, a couple of seasons later, they did cross that line, and there was no going back.)

The awkwardness of the moment ended when Daphne realized that the pills she took for her thyroid condition were back at Frasier's apartment. She said she would run back to the apartment and get them, but Niles offered to go with her — and then fetch the pills for her. He didn't want to take the chance that Daphne and Sherry might make up — and his opportunity to spend the night with Daphne would vanish.

So they returned to Frasier's apartment, and everyone wound up in the bathroom where Frasier was taking a bubble bath.

Frasier the psychiatrist had to try to resolve the problem the women were having — which he did, and they made up. And everyone was happy except Niles. Frasier told a petulant Niles that he knew that the situation wasn't right. That was why he brought Daphne back.

Niles protested that they came back for her thyroid pills.

"You're a doctor," Frasier said. "Why didn't you just use your prescription pad?"

"Oh, my God!" Niles exclaimed as it dawned on him what Frasier was saying.

"Isn't there an all–night pharmacy across the street from your building?" Frasier asked.

"Oh, my God!" Niles exclaimed as he staggered out of the bathroom.

Saturday, April 01, 2017

Living Up to Expectations

Roz (Peri Gilpin): All right, there's a guy on second, one guy's out, I drive one to the gap. The throw to the cutoff man is late, our guy's safe at home, and I try to stretch it to a double. I make a beautiful hook slide right under the tag. How can I be out?

Frasier (Kelsey Grammer): I'm still trying to understand why you drove to the Gap in the middle of the game.

There are certainly exceptions, but, for most of us, our first heroes are our parents. They are capable of doing so many things that are routine in the adult world — like changing a light bulb or making a sandwich — but are nothing short of miraculous to a child.

It is a healthy part of growing up when a child discovers that his/her parents are not perfect after all; nevertheless, it can be a painful experience. Whether it is more painful for the parent or the child depends, I suppose, upon the individuals.

When the episode of Frasier that first aired 20 years ago tonight — "The Unnatural" — began, Frasier (Kelsey Grammer) was anticipating a visit from his son Frederick (Trevor Einhorn), who was living with his mother in Boston.

Frasier seldom saw his son and always wanted their time together to be perfect so when Frederick told Frasier he wanted to take a tour of Microsoft while he was in Seattle, Frasier tried to make it happen, but he couldn't. He turned to Roz (Peri Gilpin), who had once dated a Microsoft employee, and tried to get her to call the fellow to play on her status as an insider.

But Roz and the Microsoft employee had broken up. It hadn't been a clean break, either, and she was very reluctant to call him, but Frasier used emotional blackmail, reminding Roz of a story she had told him about when she was a girl and wanted her mother to take her to see late '60s/early '70s pop music star Bobby Sherman at a mall opening, but her mother couldn't do it. Her schedule was simply too demanding.

"So what did that little girl do that night?" Frasier asked. "She cried herself to sleep on her Bobby Sherman pillow."

Roz gave in — only to learn that her ex–beau no longer worked at Microsoft. He left after he and Roz split up. So Roz couldn't capitalize on her insider status, but she told Frasier that if Frederick wanted to tour a seminary, "I've got an in there now."

That didn't disappoint Frederick, though. While Roz and Frasier had been talking in the control booth, Frederick had been having a conversation with Bulldog, the host of KACL's sports program and coach of the station's softball team.

Bulldog was a reprehensible character, but on this occasion, he honestly tried to do Frasier a favor. He knew Frasier wasn't an athletic sort, but he didn't want to destroy Frasier's son's image of his father so when Frederick pressed him on letting his father fill in for Roz, who had been injured and couldn't play in the next game, Bulldog insisted that Frasier was a good player and that they would certainly win if he could play, but he was busy that day. Frederick conceded that they were supposed to go to Microsoft that day, and Bulldog thought he was off the hook.

When Frasier returned, though, Frederick told him that he no longer wanted to go to Microsoft. Instead, he wanted to see Frasier play softball. This created a tremendous dilemma for Frasier. He didn't know how to play softball, had never shown any interest in it when he was a child. Now he had to learn how to play the game in a short period of time.

But if there was one thing that Frasier had always been able to do, it was learn a new subject thoroughly and quickly. So he set about learning how to play softball in a crash course at the batting cages with his father helping him out.

It is hard to imagine a more inept pupil than Frasier. While it was never made clear in the episode how long they spent at the batting cages, the only hopeful sign Martin had seen was that Frasier was improving with his followthrough and was no longer hitting himself in the kidney. As for hitting a ball, well ...

Eventually they had to acknowledge that Frasier simply wasn't the softball type. In time, Frasier would have to acknowledge that to Frederick. He wasn't looking forward to admitting to his son that he wasn't perfect.

Frederick, meanwhile, had been creating a different set of problems with his Uncle Niles (David Hyde Pierce).

Regular Frasier watchers knew of Niles' infatuation with Daphne (Jane Leeves). In this episode, they learned that Frederick also had a crush on Daphne. He said he was Daphne's boyfriend and repeatedly drove Niles mad with his discreetly intimate behavior with her. Frasier and Martin (John Mahoney) didn't see it, but Niles certainly could.

And, by his own admission, he was envious of his nephew. Since he had been in Seattle, Frederick had spent a lot of time around Daphne, but at one point he crossed the line. He went into Daphne's bathroom while she was taking a shower.

Daphne chased him out of her room, prompting the following exchange between Frederick and his father:

Frasier: What have I told you about running in the house?

Frederick: You told me to never run in the house.

Frasier: And what have I told you about splitting infinitives?

Frederick got the last laugh. After learning that his father wasn't good at softball and his grandfather couldn't do math in his head, Frederick was moping in the living room. Daphne asked if she could do anything to make him feel better.

"Maybe a hug?" he suggested, and Daphne was very obliging.

Frederick smirked triumphantly at Niles.

The closing credits always had some sort of relevance to something from the preceding program, and during the closing credits of "The Unnatural," Frasier brought the real Bobby Sherman to the sound booth for Roz.

Saturday, March 11, 2017

The Angel of Death

Norman (James Earl Jones): Are you here visiting somebody?

Frasier (Kelsey Grammer): Oh, no. I'm just here with a friend of mine, Roz. She's here doing some community service.

Norman: Ah, the Angel of Death. Nice girl.

It isn't easy to pick a single favorite episode from the Frasier series.

That is the way it is with any really good TV series, isn't it? If you can only think of one truly good episode during a series' run, my guess is that would be the exception, not the rule.

But, almost by definition, a truly good series must have generated several episodes that could qualify as the series' best. In such a case, usually the series' average episodes are better than most.

Frasier was such a series, and I can name several episodes that I would consider worthy of being the series' best. But ultimately I think I would always pick the episode that aired on this night in 1997 — "Roz's Krantz and Gouldenstein Are Dead" — as the cream of the crop.

When the episode began, Roz (Peri Gilpin) was performing some community service picking up trash along the road. She had been stopped for speeding and her options for punishment were to pay a fine or perform community service. She chose the latter but didn't like gathering trash along the road.

It just wasn't right for her so Frasier (Kelsey Grammer) recommended that she perform her community service at a retirement home. Roz was reluctant — like many people she had a fear of aging — but she did it, anyway.

What happened next didn't help.

Roz had the misfortune of being with a couple of the residents when they died. She was playing checkers with one and reading to another. As a result, the other residents started calling her "the Angel of Death." When they encountered Roz in hallways, they would turn around and go the other way.

Roz didn't want to go back, but Frasier insisted, and he went with her to provide moral support.

Roz went into a room where an elderly woman named Moira (Lois Smith) was sitting up in her bed. She told Roz to come in.

"How do you feel?" Roz asked.

"Fine," Moira replied. "Now hand me those cigarettes."

Roz did so but couldn't resist saying, "These things do come with a warning."

"So do you, darlin'," Moira replied. "I let you in."

The two went on to have a heart–to–heart conversation about growing old.

"Nobody likes to get older, but it doesn't mean you can't enjoy yourself."

Moira (Lois Smith)

Meanwhile, Frasier met a blind resident played by James Earl Jones, who knew Roz by reputation. They had a nice conversation, too, about how Frasier's advice to a caller had helped him. It was at a time when Jones' character had lost his wife and had been experiencing some problems. The caller had been having similar trouble adjusting to life after his wife died, and Frasier suggested that the caller keep pictures of his wife all over the house to help him through the transition.

Pictures, obviously, would be of no use to a blind man, but Jones explained that, when he and his wife were dating, she had made a life mask of herself for art class. He asked his daughter to look for it and she found it. He told Frasier that every night before he went to sleep he ran his fingers over the mask and was reminded of the old days.

"You really helped me," he told Frasier and showed him the mask.

Then while Jones was in the bathroom to take some medication, Frasier ran his fingers over the mask and lost his grip. The mask fell to the floor, and the nose was broken off. Unfortunately the last few minutes of the show were about Frasier trying to mend the mask without Jones finding out what had happened.

The rest of the episode was a bit slapstick, to be honest. In general, though, it was a nice commentary on aging.

That's not a bad cue to turn our attention to Smith, who probably isn't familiar to most people but has had an extensive career in movies and television and on the stage.

Among her movie credits are "East of Eden," "Five Easy Pieces" and "Fatal Attraction." There have been many others in more than 60 years — although you might not recognize her in her earlier movies if all you have seen are her later ones, like "Twister," for example, in which she played Helen Hunt's aunt.

Her television credits include, in addition to Frasier, appearances on ER and Route 66 as well as several made–for–TV movies.

Now 86, Smith is still active. She will appear in a documentary on the Gettysburg Address later this year.

Now that is how one should grow old.

Saturday, February 25, 2017

The Birdman of The Montana

Frasier (Kelsey Grammer): [about Martin's chair] Dad, when are you going to stop blighting the environment with this monstrosity? My God, can't you see that it wants to die? Let it go.

Martin (John Mahoney): You know, I keep having this dream where you're saying the same thing only I'm in the hospital and you're slipping the nurse a 20.

Frasier: Dad, that will never happen.

Martin: Thank you.

Frasier: I have medical power of attorney. It won't cost me a thing.

In the episode of Frasier that first aired on this night in 1997 Niles (David Hyde Pierce) had just signed a lease for a new apartment in a snooty building called The Montana. He was anxious to make a good impression on his new neighbors so he arranged to throw a dinner party.

It's important at this point to mention something.

Longtime viewers of Frasier will recall that, prior to this, Niles had acquired a dog, a rather high–strung whippet that, apparently, bore a striking resemblance to Niles' never–seen but frequently described spouse, Maris. But the Montana would not permit dogs or cats. Other pets were allowed, but Niles would not be able to keep his dog.

So Niles gave away his dog and purchased a cockatoo named Baby that had been taught a few words. It said "I love you" a few times, at one point calling Niles Grandma, but mostly it repeated things it heard in Niles' kitchen. For example it picked up the assessment from Martin (John Mahoney) that domestic birds were "cute but stupid."

Baby's problem, though, was not her brains. It was her nerves.

She had a tendency to startle easily, and she would attach her claws firmly to whatever — or whoever — happened to be in the vicinity. Niles learned that the hard way when the doorbell rang. Baby was perched on his shoulder and sank her claws into him hard enough that he could feel it through his shirt and jacket.

(This, by the way, is a real condition that can affect humans as well as animals. My mother was a perfect example. She loved movies, but she had a tendency to grip the arm of whoever was sitting next to her whenever a particularly suspenseful scene occurred. I learned that the hard way when I watched "The Shining" with her.)

Before the evening was over, Niles would have reason to look back on that episode with fondness.

Baby was startled when Frasier began building a fire. She was on Niles' hand, but the sound so scared her that she flew to his head, and she sank her claws into his scalp.

She tightened her grip when the doorbell rang again.

Niles retreated to the kitchen as the guests began to arrive, and Frasier was put in the position of keeping them entertained while Niles tried to free himself of the bird.

Frasier had shown an interest in one of the guests, a neighbor named Stephanie (Patricia Wettig, who is probably best remembered as a star of TV's thirtysomething in the late '80s), but he did a pretty good job of entertaining all six guests, which included Maris' oldest friend. Niles was petrified of what she might tell Maris about his dinner party — and the cockatoo attached to his head — so he remained in the kitchen, trying to find a way to get the bird to relax enough to loosen its grip.

In the end, the bird did break up the dinner party — but not because she was on Niles' head. It was because of phrases she had picked up from Niles and Frasier in other contexts.

For example, Niles told Frasier how rampant gossip was in a building like The Montana. In the short time he had lived there he had heard that one of the guests, Carol (played by Rosemary Murphy, who appeared in "To Kill a Mockingbird," from which the title of the episode was inspired), "is a lush," and another, a Dutch investment banker, "is a lech." He had also cautioned Frasier against counting too much on Stephanie being "as horny as you are."

Baby was prompted to repeat those phrases whenever she heard the names; offended, the guests stormed out. Stephanie, however, stopped long enough on her way out to ring the doorbell.

I'm not sure there was a moral to the story. It was just good funny slapstick.

Saturday, February 18, 2017

The Crane Boys' Family Tradition

Frasier (Kelsey Grammer): We could share a table. There are a couple of seats over there.

Niles (David Hyde Pierce): We can't sit with strange women.

Frasier: Why not? We married strange women.

The writers for Frasier always seemed to strike a solid balance between types of episodes. They never never leaned too heavily in one direction. One episode might deal with Frasier's (Kelsey Grammer) long–distance relationship with his son; the next week's episode might deal with Frasier's sibling rivalry with Niles (David Hyde Pierce); the next episode might deal with Frasier's snobby demeanor.

I guess it was easy with Frasier. He was so flawed that there was always a wealth of material to exploit. The writers didn't have to write the same kind of story every week. They could write many kinds of stories that gave the viewers real insight into Frasier's personality. That is the mark of a truly good sitcom.

The episode that first aired 20 years ago tonight, "Four for the Seesaw," was the latest installation in the story of Frasier's tortured love life. Niles (David Hyde Pierce), recently separated from the frequently mentioned but never seen Maris, was dragged in for good measure.

Actually, Niles was at the center of the episode. Frasier's obsessive behavior was reflected in his younger brother. Like a hormone–crazed teenager, Niles wanted sex, but he also drove himself to lunacy with his obsessiveness. Both would be — in the words of Hank Williams Jr. — a "family tradition."

Niles and Frasier were in the cafe on a particularly busy day. There were no tables to be had. They decided to ask if they could share a table with two unattached women (Lisa Darr, Megan Mullally), who were receptive to the idea.

So the four of them had coffee together. Things worked out so well that they went out to dinner and then to the repertory theater. The audience only heard about those developments when Niles and Frasier brought the girls back to Frasier's apartment, but it was clear they had been hitting it off.

While they were there Martin (John Mahoney) told Frasier that he and his girlfriend had a mountain cabin paid for but they couldn't use so he offered it to Frasier. After a little discussion, the four decided to go away for the weekend.

But once they arrived at the cabin, the Crane boys were driven to madness by the ambiguity of the girls' remarks. Niles and Frasier were eager to bed the girls, but they didn't wish to appear too eager — so they tried to maneuver things so the girls would commit themselves one way or another.

But each thing they said was more ambiguous than the last.

Finally, it seemed that Niles' and Frasier's lustful wishes would come true, but Niles was overcome with guilt. He had to call Maris and find out the ground rules for their separation.

"It occurred to me," Niles said into the phone, "we never laid out the rules about our dating other people. ... I know that we're allowed to see other people. My question is, how much of them are we allowed to see?"

Maris apparently gave Niles permission to fool around.

But Niles' brain was still in ambiguity mode because he began imagining other meanings for what she had said. Then she called him back and told him not to go out with other women.

And he kept interrupting Frasier to discuss it all with him. A person in Niles' shoes most likely won't notice that he is annoying those around him, and Niles failed to pick up on Frasier's increasing irritation.

Finally Frasier had had enough, and he scolded Niles, told him he was overthinking things. While he was having his rant, the girls came to the bedroom doors and were listening when he told Niles, "For tonight they are two live breathing available females who want us!"

"Think again," one of them said, and both returned to the bedrooms — alone.

Saturday, February 11, 2017

Don't Let It Bring You Down

"I've always liked the notion of meeting the great figures of history. But then I think, what if it's like high school and all the really cool dead people don't want to hang out with me? Mozart will tell me he's busy, but then later I'll see him out with Shakespeare and Lincoln."

Niles (David Hyde Pierce)

If someone mentions "the blues," that can be interpreted many different ways.

My goddaughter lives in the St. Louis area. She's a big hockey fan, just like her parents, and to her, "the blues" means the St. Louis Blues. It probably means other things to her as well, but that is most likely the first thing that crosses her mind when she hears those words.

I have a friend who is a music lover. She likes all kinds of music, really, but her favorite genre is the blues. If you say those words around her, her first thoughts are likely to be of her favorite blues musicians.

To my parents and those of their generation — and, to an extent, my generation as well — the blues was a slang reference to a psychological state. Someone who had the blues was depressed, despondent, morose, somber, "down" (to use another slang term).

In the episode of Frasier that aired on this night in 1997, "Death and the Dog," Eddie the dog was depressed. Martin (John Mahoney) had taken him to the vet to see if he could pinpoint what the problem was, but the vet was baffled. So it was decided to turn Eddie over to an animal psychiatrist.

The psychiatrist insisted that everyone in the household be present for the first session, during which he went through a questionnaire he had devised. He asked the humans things about what they thought Eddie would do in certain situations if he, too, were human — such as what would he serve at a dinner party, what cologne would he wear, what would his first words be.

Frasier (Kelsey Grammer) and Niles (David Hyde Pierce), being psychologists themselves, found the whole thing absurd and went to no special pains to conceal that fact.

After a one–on–one session with Eddie, the psychiatrist concluded that Eddie was, indeed, depressed. If, as Martin had said, there had been no change in his routine, the psychiatrist said he must be reacting to the depression of someone in the family circle.

But no one would admit to being depressed.

The psychiatrist recommended that they all be particularly aware of their own behavior when they were around Eddie until he could get a better handle on the cause. "Try to speak in pleasant, happy tones," he counseled them.

And they did. But then they began examining themselves to see if perhaps they were Eddie's problem.

The more they examined their lives, though, the more they uncovered flaws. As they did they made themselves more and more depressed.

Then they discovered Eddie's doll wedged beneath a sofa cushion and threw it on the floor. Eddie was immediately animated, playing with his favorite toy. They all looked on with astonishment as Eddie was his old self again.

But they were all depressed. When Frasier observed, "We know for whom the bell tolls," a little bell sounded. It was the oven timer. Daphne (Jane Leeves) had some cookies in the oven.

The thought of hot cookies — with some milk and ice cream in the refrigerator — perked them up considerably.

Frasier had been relating all of this to a caller on a slow day for his radio show, and he wrapped things up with the moral of the story.

"Even the happiest of us can find reasons to be unhappy if only we look for them," he said, "so don't look for them. Take a tip from our dog friends and treat yourself to your favorite toy, whatever that might be."

That's good advice — unfortunately, it is advice I too seldom heed. But today being the 20th anniversary of that episode is a good time to remember it.