Copycat (1995, Jon Amiel)

It’s easy to pick out the “best” thing in Copycat because it’s almost entirely atrocious. Christopher Young’s highly derivative score is lovely—it’s a mix between John Williams and then Aliens whenever Sigourney Weaver is in thriller danger. Thanks to the score, Copycat makes some interesting swings, like emotive, romantic music during the most inappropriate sequences. Again, outside aping Ripley moments, it never fits the content, but it is definitely lovely.

Otherwise, the high point is J.E. Freeman’s performance as the grizzled police captain. He’s fine. They cut away from him too soon because he’s clearly knawing on the set. I really wanted to see him munch on his coffee mug, which always seems inevitable.

Besides those two elements, it’s just a matter of what’s not godawful and what’s just bad.

What’s impressive about Freeman is he’s the only acceptable performance. Everyone else is either incompetent or appalling. A lot of it is Amiel’s direction. He’s inept at composing the Panavision shots—it’s a special kind of bad to waste San Francisco like Amiel wastes it (the lighting is fine, thanks to László Kovács’s photography but wow, what a waste of Kovács)—but he’s even worse at directing actors. Whether Weaver, who’s got a risibly written part, soulful surfer tech bro cop Dermot Mulroney, or incel serial killer William McNamara, Amiel does an incapable job with all of them. Oh, I forgot Will Patton. Poor Will Patton.

Copycat is supposed to be about Weaver teaming up with San Francisco homicide inspector Holly Hunter, but second-billed Hunter deserves an “and” credit. She takes a back seat to Mulroney, McNamara, and even Patton as her erstwhile love interest. Patton’s a sexist, racist fellow detective—Hunter and Mulroney are partners—and until it turns out he’s dangerously unfit, he just ruins scenes. Not because he’s the worst actor in them; instead, he’s a purposeless boil on the film. He’s there, so they don’t have to do a whole trope, just a three-quarters trope.

Of the main cast, Hunter’s the least bad. She’s never good because it’s a terrible movie, but you’re never slack-jawed at the badness of her performance. Like Weaver. So much bad acting from Weaver.

The script, courtesy Ann Biderman and David Madsen, is worse than Amiel’s direction. Likewise, Jim Clark and Alan Heim’s editing is lousy.

Copycat’s so abominable I don’t even want to talk about Harry Connick Jr.’s cameo as a hillbilly serial killer, which starts worse than it finishes, but only because his bad performance is less bad than the many other bad performances. It’s a derivative, insipid motion picture, so obviously rotten the cast don’t even earn sympathy for their embarrassing participation.

Pretty music, though. Very pretty music.

Casino (1995, Martin Scorsese)

The best part of Casino isn’t my favorite part of Casino because the best part is James Woods bickering with Erika von Tagen. It’s mainly in the background, and it’s the only time anywhere in the film anyone shows any personality not expressly required for their scenes. Director (and co-screenwriter) Scorsese doesn’t believe in background action; if it’s not foreground, it doesn’t matter. The problem is von Tagen is a kid, and Sharon Stone’s her mom, and Woods is the pimp who groomed Stone from age fourteen. The movie doesn’t even seem to see its problem, which isn’t a surprise because Casino is holy shit levels of misogynist.

My favorite part of Casino is a scene where Robert De Niro bitches about Stone being all about money and fame when he’s walking through the dressing room for the showgirls who dance on his big-budget local talk show. He needs the talk show so he can bitch about how the state government is targeting him even though he’s just a successful businessman who happens to be helping the mob steal from their own casino. During that sequence, when Casino is dragging its way through its second act, it’s clear just how little self-awareness has gone into making the film.

It hurts De Niro the most, as he plays a caricature of Robert De Niro in a mob movie. He spends most of his time not being the super-genius bookmaker he’s supposed to be and getting more possessive and controlling of Stone, a successful Vegas hustler who De Niro gaslighted into marrying him. The omnipresent narration (by De Niro, Joe Pesci, and occasionally a surprise narrator for effect, but never Stone because women don’t think) sometimes teases a significant plot development involving the mob, the FBI, or the casinos. Still, until the rote mob clean-up sequence at the end, it’s always about De Niro and Stone. Specifically, De Niro being awful to her, Stone reacting poorly, and De Niro being more and more horrific. It’s a strangely crap part for Stone. She’s there to decorate and be decorative, and when she refuses to decorate, well, De Niro’s done with her.

The film runs three hours. The first act takes about an hour, almost all of it in summary, with the first twenty minutes or so jumping ahead, jumping back, filling in the details from different perspectives (well, De Niro’s and Pesci’s), and dumping a bunch of great exposition about how the mob ran Vegas. The second hour and a half is about Stone’s failings as a weak woman bringing down De Niro, which will eventually affect Pesci, then the casino, then the mob, then Vegas itself. Also, we’re not sure who’s narrating from Norma Desmond’s swimming pool because the movie opens with De Niro getting blown up in a car bomb. Once you’re narrating from beyond the grave, anything’s possible.

Though not De Niro’s character listening to The Rolling Stones all the time, and they’re practically every other song. Casino’s got a great soundtrack. Clearly, a lot of work went into it. Shame more didn’t go into the writing.

Given the speedy first hour and the absolutely fantastic procedural set-up, it seems like Thelma Schoonmaker’s cuts alone make the picture coherent. It looks excellent–Scorsese and cinematographer Robert Richardson do a remarkable halo effect with the lighting, then some cool spotlighting later—but the “scenes” are so short, it’s hard for anyone to work up any acting momentum.

Except Pesci and Stone, who both do well until they just can’t beat the film working against them. De Niro’s never particularly good, always just fine. Not exactly miscast, but the part’s so thin it gets blown around the frame. If it weren’t for his spectacular wardrobe (having De Niro look glamorous in his silly clothes really works against the film) and Richardson’s lighting, you could forget De Niro’s even there.

The supporting cast has some good acting, but no one’s in it long enough to give full performances. Woods is excellent; Don Rickles and Alan King are perfect, but scenery. Rickles is in an extended cameo; King is just a cameo. The most significant supporting part is Frank Vincent as Pesci’s chief goon. He’s fine, but the narration explaining his behavior does a lot more than anything Vincent can do onscreen.

It’s clear from the start Casino’s got a low ceiling and will probably just be a masterfully directed mess, but it ends not even being energetic enough to be considered a mess. I suppose it’s vaguely interesting to see how the film presents De Niro as a hero, but even then, not really. The writing is too tepid, and there’s nothing to his performance past the pomp. It’s most disappointing for Stone and Pesci. Scorsese and Casino fail them. Besides them (and De Niro), everyone else in Casino gets to ride the prestige wave while it lasts.

Shame it’s in such a shallow pool.

Frasier (1993) s03e09 – Frasier Grinch

I really wish I were keeping some kind of track of “Frasier” episodes. I’m half-assing the watch-through. I wasn’t sure if this episode was the first “Frasier” Christmas or not, but it turns out its the first one where we get the Crane family having Christmas onscreen. And find out John Mahoney is a Christmas enthusiast of the whole home decorating variety, which Kelsey Grammer really doesn’t like.

He liked it as a kid, but eventually got to the age where the mom had to tell he and David Hyde Pierce “shut up or you’ll hurt [Mahoney's] feelings.” It’s a great bit; writer David Lloyd has numerous repeat anecdotes and sight gags and they’re always good.

There’s a fun radio station Christmas party where Dan Butler and Edward Hibbert try to prank Grammer on air for his annual original Christmas story, which I know we haven’t gotten before. This one is about Olaf the Lonely Goat Herd (I haven’t seen Frozen yet, is Olaf in Frozen a lonely goat herd?). It’s a really funny sequence. Great pace from director Philip Charles MacKenzie and Butler and Hibbert prove a fine team.

The main story has Grammer all of a sudden needing a Christmas gift for visiting son Luke Tarsitano, which leads to he and Hyde Pierce having to go out among the commoners to a shopping mall. Grammer and Hyde Pierce toy store shopping is an outstanding scene.

The conclusion involves Grammer and Mahoney having a nice, heartwarming scene without it drawing too much attention to their relationship being the show’s original concept. It’s a good Christmas episode.

Taristano’s iffy as the kid, though he gets off a good joke at Hyde Pierce’s expense.

Speaking of Hyde Pierce, he’s got a reliably funny subplot involving separated wife Maris cancelling his credit cards.

Oh, and the dog wears an elf costume. It’s obnoxiously adorable.

Frasier (1993) s03e08 – The Last Time I Saw Maris

Despite some very silly—and funny (well, not really Paul Mazursky’s call, it’s Paul Mazursky after all)—opening shenanigans, it quickly turns into a very dramatic episode.

The opening antics involve station “Star Trek” nerd Patrick Kerr—weird how Paramount self-advertised its properties in the nineties—organizing a petition to get an homage to Peri Gilpin on “Trek.” It’s kind of lazy writing from Ian Gurvitz, but he makes up for it going forward. It’s funny, it’s just easy.

The main plot is Maris going missing, causing David Hyde Pierce to panic… after a delay; Maris not speaking to him for three days straight doesn’t raise any eyebrows. There’s a big scene at Hyde Pierce’s house with the family—Kelsey Grammer gets there last, John Mahoney is already phoning his cop buddies to put out a search—“thin, very thin; Caucasian, very Caucasian” is a great bit—and Jane Leeves gets to do her psychic thing for the first time in a while.

It’s a really funny scene (you’ve got to wonder how Maris not being an actual character affected the trajectory of long-term story arcs), culminating in Grammer butting into Hyde Pierce’s martial problems to offer some advice. Much to Mahoney’s chagrin, which is going to be a running subplot with a great punchline.

It quickly turns into a Hyde Pierce showcase and a very good one. Grammer—and Mahoney—still get things to do and there’s a fun small bit for Leeves, but it’s Hyde Pierce’s show in the end. Great supporting work from Irene Olga López as the maid too.

And although Philip Charles MacKenzie’s been doing a fine job directing most of the season’s episodes, this one is the first where it’s particularly well-done. The way the episode toggles from comedy to drama and back, sometimes in the span of a sentence or two, is outstanding.

It’s one of those exemplar “Frasier” episodes.

Oh, and the end credit bit is pretty great too.

Frasier (1993) s03e07 – The Adventures of Bad Boy and Dirty Girl

The episode opens at the coffee shop and it stands out because it’s the first time this season there’s been a coffee shop scene. Kelsey Grammer and David Hyde Pierce have a quick scene post “previously on” to talk about Grammer’s “tawdry” romance with boss Mercedes Ruehl. Ruehl then shows up, so exit Hyde Pierce, then in comes Peri Gilpin, and so exit Ruehl. Lots of quick character interactions and a setup—Grammer and Gilpin have to cover the night shift.

Covering the night shift is important because it leads to Ruehl and Grammer having a liaison live on air, which is pretty funny stuff on its own but then there’s how it impacts the supporting cast. Particularly Hyde Pierce. His reaction shots are the oomph of the punchline. Excellent stuff.

While the episode’s ostensibly the second part of a two-parter, it’s got a different credited writer (Joe Keenan), a different director (Philip Charles MacKenzie), and a somewhat different supporting cast. Apparently all the workplace troubles are over because only Dan Butler shows up at the station—besides Gilpin—where he congratulates Grammer for his on-air tryst. Gilpin rightly points out she doesn’t want to be hearing any more slut shaming from Grammer (I wonder if it holds from this point on).

Then the plot gets into the fall out and how it affects Grammer and Ruehl, professionally and personally.

John Mahoney’s got a subplot with an amorous romance novelist (Pamela Kosh) moving out of the building and trying to get him in her apartment. Lots of good material for Mahoney and it ties into the main plot quite nicely at the finish.

The episode’s quite good. Real funny, really good acting from Grammer and Ruehl and everyone else–Jane Leeves maybe gets the best moment embarrassing the erstwhile couple; it’s only a few seconds, but they’re all amazing.

Frasier (1993) s03e06 – Sleeping with the Enemy

Mercedes Ruehl’s really funny. She’s been good on “Frasier” before and the casting is working out great, but this episode she’s occasionally really, really funny. Like they must’ve had this episode in mind when casting the part because she and Kelsey Grammer’s back and forth yelling is next level phenomenal.

They’re yelling because Ruehl’s frozen the salaries for the station staff—i.e. not the talent—which leads Peri Gilpin and her colleagues (specifically guest star Patrick Kerr) to near organizing. They back down when Ruehl yells at them; luckily, Grammer’s going to champion their cause and get the on-air talent to support them in a strike.

The moment where Grammer goes from being an opinionated, disconnected blowhard to committing to helping is a really nice one, courtesy credited writers Linda Morris and Vic Rauseo. It’s a little moment but a very good one, character development-wise.

There’s a great scene at the apartment where Grammer’s trying to rally the talent, with David Hyde Pierce showing up to feel uninvited, then Jane Leeves and John Mahoney getting to meet Edward Hibbert. Mahoney and Hibbert are perfect foils for one another, little bit less when Hibbert sneers at Leeves.

The organizing scene turns out to be a really good one, particularly for Mahoney, with some very deliberate pacing.

But the episode’s not even to the hook yet–Ruehl and Grammer’s distain for one another turning into lust. Here’s where the chemistry between Grammer and Ruehl really starts to pay off, their timing from the yelling banter working with everything else; great comedy acting from the actors.

There’s a “to be continued” tag—can Grammer successfully negotiate the deal given his new romantic predicament—but the cliffhanger nicely still allows for a great end credits sequence for Kerr.

Frasier (1993) s03e05 – Kisses Sweeter Than Wine

It’s an apartment episode, very much an apartment episode; such an apartment episode, the apartment plays a vital role in the plot.

The episode opens with the obligatory radio station scene, giving Peri Gilpin a chance to reminisce about the great cheese state of her birth with a caller (Brooke Adams) to Kelsey Grammer’s utter disinterest. Grammer’s planning for a wine club soirée, nothing to interest the “Women of the Cheese Belt.”

The action moves to the apartment, where Grammer’s trying to figure out what to do with John Mahoney and his gross chair. He and David Hyde Pierce try to get it out of sight and it slips, scuffing the floor. Luckily Hyde Pierce knows the best floor guy in Seattle (Tony Carreiro) and they’re going to get everything taken care of, plenty of time, Mr. Fawlty.

Contractor finding more and more wrong on main set is a fairly standard sitcom episode, but the A plot here quickly becomes Carreiro’s flirtation with Jane Leeves, which brings out the worst in Hyde Pierce.

Not only do we get physical comedy Hyde Pierce, we also get—well, what’s the word for non-dangerous insidious—but basically we get Hyde Pierce scheming to foil the flirtation. It leads to actual character development for Hyde Pierce especially, but Leeves and Grammer as well. The script—credited to a solo Anne Flett-Giordano–knows how to work the characters (or how the cast will work them) and it gets around the discussing some issues the show’s been sitting on for… well, since episode one. The character development Flett-Giordano gets in is some very good work.

And the episode’s also got a phenomenal punchline. Excellent performances from Hyde Pierce, Leeves, and Grammer too… not to mention guest star Peter Siragusa, who’s perfect in a particular role.

Frasier (1993) s03e04 – Leapin’ Lizards

Mercedes Ruehl is back, initially as a quick foil for David Hyde Pierce and Kelsey Grammer. Hyde Pierce is visiting Grammer at work—there’s a brief, welcome Peri Gilpin eye-roll in Hyde Pierce’s direction—and they run into Ruehl. She quickly shows them both up, which is hilarious, and then seems to disappear–“Frasier” has these outstanding pivots from episode setup to A plot, with the setup rarely even showing up as a subplot.

For example, once Ruehl has shown herself to be better informed than Hyde Pierce and Grammer, the opening with the brothers goes nowhere. Instead, Ruehl gets involved with Grammer’s subplot with sports radio host Dan Butler. Butler pranked Grammer, Grammer complained, Ruehl finds out how much more engagement Butler gets from his listeners; so she tells Butler to keep up the pranks and we get an episode.

Can Grammer, with the ever-mentioned Harvard degree, find a way to best Butler with pranks or is it going to go bad real fast….

Butler’s pranks are hilarious—Grammer’s great playing the butt of jokes, it’s kind of a staple of the performance from “Cheers” days—and the plot nicely involves everyone: John Mahoney’s a faithful Butler listener, Gilpin’s Grammer’s sidekick whether she likes it or not, and then Hyde Pierce is his sounding board.

Nice support from Michael Whaley as Butler’s comically suffering (he works for Butler, after all) producer.

Chuck Ranberg and Anne Flett-Giordano are the credited writers. They’re quite good at finding the right situational comedy for “Frasier,” like, all you need is the spark and you get a great episode thanks to the cast, which makes me think it’s when “Frasier” starts taking itself for granted is when the slide begins.

Frasier (1993) s03e03 – Martin Does It His Way

After a couple professional episodes where John Mahoney and Jane Leeves are interactive scenery, Martin Does It His Way is an apartment episode. There’s a radio station setup—with some great work from Kelsey Grammer and Peri Gilpin—establishing Grammer’s aunt has died and he’s leaded to the lawyer’s to talk about the estate.

Cut to after the meeting, Grammer’s got to give the eulogy and David Hyde Pierce has got to dispose of the ashes. The dead aunt was a mean aunt, so the episode’s full of stories about her from Grammer, Hyde Pierce, and Mahoney.

Somehow the talk of the dead aunt’s final wishes leads to Leeves telling Grammer and Hyde Pierce about Mahoney’s hidden shoeboxes of unfulfilled dreams, then runs off to get them. It’s a great scene for Leeves even if connecting the two plots isn’t exactly organic. Writer David Lloyd correctly assumes the laughs will mask the tape.

Turns out Mahoney spent his years on stakeouts writing songs for Frank Sinatra, but never submitted any of them. Despite both having to work on their aunt’s last wishes, Grammer and Hyde Pierce decide they’re going to finish one of Mahoney’s songs. There are some really funny music-related jokes and anything to let Grammer sing.

The conclusion brings the plots together well—with some nice, wholesome family stuff—and some great Hyde Pierce physical comedy.

Season three “Frasier,” so far, is leaning heavy into its established successful types of episodes—last time it was Crane brothers, this time it’s Crane family. Even with a sort of silly A plot–Sinatra songs, but without any product placement—it works out. Just because there’s a formula doesn’t mean the results aren’t excellent.

Frasier (1993) s03e02 – Shrink Rap

The episode opens on David Hyde Pierce in couples therapy—Milo O’Shea plays the counselor—are we finally going to get an appearance from Maris. And if we’re not, what are we getting in compensation.

We get Kelsey Grammer. It’s a “Crane Brothers” team-up episode, complete with a list from dad John Mahoney to remind everyone of the previous team-ups. There was the book (in season one), the restaurant (in season two); the restaurant, Mahoney decides, was the stupidest. It’s a great bit.

Grammer and Hyde Pierce are both relating their side of the story to O’Shea, complete with appropriate embellishment. For example, when Grammer’s telling the story, Peri Gilpin thinks he’s just the smartest, most wonderful radio psychiatrist in existence; when Hyde Pierce is telling it, Jane Leeves is a lot sexier than in Grammer’s recollections.

Soon we get the story—Grammer, wishing he could spend more time with callers’ problems, and Hyde Pierce, sick of the other psychiatrist’s yell therapy in the office next door, decide Grammer should become Hyde Pierce’s tenant and occasional partner.

Things start getting tense over an office plant—giving Mahoney an “I told you so” moment with the audience—and then they try running group therapy together and everything blows up, landing them in O’Shea’s office.

It’s not all flashbacks in the O’Shea section, eventually they get to trust falls, which is an amazing scene.

Shrink Rap’s a good episode but seems a little hurried, like they rushed a “Crane Brothers” too soon (the restaurant episode was penultimate or second-to-penultimate last season so it’s only been a handful of episodes in between). Christopher Lloyd’s script has some great bits, but they’re just bits.