New Love (1996) #4

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New Love #4 doesn’t really have a feature story. There’s a “Letters from Venus,” where creator Gilbert Hernandez checks in on the latest drama surrounding the strip’s young protagonist, and it’s six pages (twice the length of any other strip); it just doesn’t feel like a feature. The episode’s a grab bag with some echoing throughout, but they’re either vague echoes or intentional non sequiturs.

For example, the first strip in the comic is three pages about some drunk dad who doesn’t want to go home to the wife and kids. He knows he should want to go home, so he’s going to give up drinking for sure this time. Shame someone offers to buy him unlimited drinks. It’s a very stylized story, with Beto absurdly (literally, intentionally absurdly) visualizing the characters only to tighten them into “real people” at the end.

That story echoes with one later on about a concerned dad confronting his teenage daughter about her going out with her lowlife friends. He gets drunk in a bar to get his courage up. Beto’s art on this story is very dark, very inky, very moody. There’s that single echo back to the first strip because of the bar, but otherwise, it’s entirely separate. It’s a particularly depressing story; Beto’s somewhat bearish on humanity this issue.

The comic’s got eight one-page or less strips. A one-pager starring Venus and Fritz, the last strip directly nods back to another four-panel strip. But their content is entirely different. The four-panel strip is Beto playing with art and how to focus attention. The Venus and Fritz strip is a flashback to Fritz’s high school days (I can’t remember, did Beto establish teenage Fritz looks like one of the cover suspects on Love and Rockets #1 in that series). It’s all story, with Beto giving the narration to Venus so the reader wouldn’t have to translate Fritz’s lisp.

The other short strips range from black comedy gags to parables to history lessons, at least the ones written by Beto. Gary Groth and Seth contribute a talking heads script discussing modern pop culture and literacy. Beto draws them like superheroes. Some of the conversation ages OK; the part where one of them goes on about how great it was people loved their Bibles in the eighteenth century is, frankly, messed up. It’s not a matter of aging poorly; it’s a matter of the poop getting stinkier every year since publication.

That conversation will echo into the last of the three pages strips, which is about a well-meaning man who accidentally profits off the ramblings of an unhoused person and tries to make things right. There’s some talk about pop and art in the strip, which the Groth and Seth conversation set up. That story, entitled “Roy,” is probably the best in the comic. It’s the most consistently ambitious gesture.

There’s a history strip about a Black boxer, which strangely becomes all about (white boxer) Jack Dempsey. Good art. A child abduction black comedy strip. Then there’s another comedy strip with some exquisite line work. The oddest strip is the one about racism, which is somewhat noncommittal.

The best of the short strips is the “Origin of the Mosquito,” which is really funny.

The “Letters from Venus” story seems to resolve the de facto love triangle between Venus, mom Petra, and comic book store clerk Carlos. Petra’s been shagging Carlos on the side, which Venus unconsciously might know but also doesn’t. She is aware something’s wrong with mom and step-dad (I think this issue’s the first time she’s mentioned the step), but not what exactly because it’s all focused around her crush on Carlos. Venus’s crush, not Petra’s.

It’s a good entry, with very nice character work for step-dad David (the first time Beto’s really given him anything), and the plotting’s neat; it just doesn’t have much oomph overall. Some excellent art, of course.

Finally, there’s a nude self-portrait from Beto. Presumably just because.

By definition, it’s a looser New Love than usual (or ever), but Beto’s got just enough theme crossover to make it work as a package.

New Love (1996) #3

New Love #3

Creator Gilbert Hernandez starts the issue with the “Letters From Venus” entry, the second feature (as in the second half of a double feature). At six pages, it’s the second-longest story. Besides the A feature, “Venus” is the only other story longer than a page. Beto’s got two and a half other single-page strips in the issue. The half because one of the stories is a montage sequence.

“Venus,” both the story and the character, introduces the cast of characters to the issue. Venus won’t be around for most of the main feature (for good reasons, I’ll mention in a moment), but her observations kick everything off for the comic. Her story starts with Sergio—Pipo’s football star son—arriving to drive Venus home. Venus has been hanging out at Pipo’s for the day, but she’s too busy to take her home. Of course, once we find out what Pipo’s too busy doing, it seems like she could’ve run the kid home, but whatever.

Instead, heartthrob Sergio will take her home; he just needs to stop along the way a few times. The first time is in a bad neighborhood, the second time is with some New Age goons, the third ties back to Pipo, then finally Venus gets home. As usual, Beto does a fantastic job using Venus as the protagonist and narrator, and the story’s chill. It’s got some “growing up” moments–like realizing “just because they’re nice to you” white ladies can be garbage racists—and it’s gritty but genial.

Then comes two of the one-pagers. First, we get a recap of Doralis’s popular television show—I wonder how New Love read without having read Love and Rockets; Doralis’s rise to TV fame was a significant subplot in that comic. Then the next one-page strip is a scene with Fritz and Petra hanging out with Doralis and realizing her TV show isn’t just a variety dance show anymore, but sort of an investigative reporting dance variety show now. It’s a nice strip, with Beto extending the traditional comic strip beats out to nine panels.

The feature story is called “Mama’s Boy” and is about Sergio and Pipo. And what people think of Sergio and Pipo, with Beto using documentary interviews as a framing device. Along the way, we find out Sergio’s side of the opening “Venus” story, but Beto also plays with the timeline a bit. For instance, the opening story has Sergio interacting with Fritz and Petra, but this feature story does a lot to retroactively inform those interactions.

Beto maintains a triple-layered narrative throughout the story (thirteen pages but really twelve and a cover), occasionally dipping into a fourth flashback layer. They all progress chronologically, with it eventually becoming clear the “Venus” story takes place in between one of them. There’s more character work for Pipo than Sergio; Sergio’s got to remain somewhat obtuse not to give away the narrative device too soon.

It’s also a really sexual story, with Beto using gag nudity for emphasis. But basically, everyone’s got the uncontrollable hots for Sergio and Pipo, and they’re mostly happy to put out.

But there’s also a subplot about Pipo vindictively targeting a TV critic who doesn’t like her show, which might give the most guidance to sorting out the three action streams and how they fit with each other.

The story’s more about Beto’s inventive plotting and less about the characters, but it’s still quite good. It’s just not as effective as the “Letters From Venus,” which has the more sympathetic protagonist. There’s nothing unsympathetic about Sergio; he’s just beefcake.

The issue doesn’t end with his story, either. Beto brings it back for a one-pager with Venus and her family (mom Petra, dad, little brother), waiting for Fritz and Doralis to come over. Nine panels and it ties back to most of the stories in the issue, including the one-pagers, as they inform Venus’s perception of Doralis compared to the adults’ take. It’s a really nice way to finish the issue, which otherwise would read like a somewhat random anthology. It’d just Luba’s Friends and Family without the closer; with it, the issue does encapsulate the opening, Sergio-related theme.

Reading the issue is kind of just like reading Love and Rockets, which is also completely wonderful.

Hitman: Ace of Killers (1997-98)

Having read Garth Ennis for so long, I can get a sense of his structure. He’s traditionally too rushed in three-issue arcs, much more comfortable with four or more. Hitman: Ace of Killers collects a six-issue arc and then two done-in-ones. The main story is a siege story, too, with the heroes getting pinned down at the end of the second issue. It’s pretty awesome plotting; like, it’s real impressive given all the character development he’s got going in a four-hour present action or whatever.

So, Nazi demon Mawzir (from the first Hitman arc—and trade) is back in Gotham looking for revenge. He’s pretty sure he’s got a foolproof plan to take out Tommy, which involves taking over one of the mob gangs and having the humans do most of the dirty work so as not to raise attention from the archangels who wouldn’t want a demon doing business on the mortal plane. Only it turns out Tommy’s still too smart for Mawzir. At least if his plan works out. The plan involves Jim Balent-era Catwoman (the politest way to describe Balent-era Catwoman is “cheesecake”) and another visit from Jason Blood and his Demon. Tommy got his start in Ennis and artist John McCrea’s Demon, which I kind of want to read after this arc, which has Ennis sending Etrigan on a delightful mission in Hell. Reminds of good old eighties DC Swamp Thing Hell, though no bugs.

But Mawzir hunting Tommy interferes with fetching, now ex-cop Tiegel getting drunk and putting the moves on Tommy. She gets so drunk she doesn’t remember he’s actually a gentleman when he wants to be—there’s a great bit comparing the demons and angels on his shoulders. When she tracks him down to confront him about what she thinks happened, she too gets stuck in the siege. So it’s Tommy, Tiegel, Natt, Catwoman, and Jason Blood trapped in a Catholic Church, which Mawzir and his human gang are shooting to shit. Mawzir can’t go into the church because holy ground and the archangels would know right away; he has to stay outside and deal with the cops.

Now, outside Tommy’s constant fat jokes about Natt and the Catwoman objectification, the wonkiest thing about the arc is how it fits in, well, Batman’s Gotham City. It’s hard to believe none of the Bat-family wouldn’t notice an hours-long firefight in the middle of the city, regardless of it happening in the Cauldron (Gotham’s Hell’s Kitchen analog). Maybe they were all on a space mission, but it’s definitely a place where having general DC Comics continuity works against the comic.

It’s also the arc where I was most expecting some kind of Preacher nod—Catwoman’s in the story because she got tricked in stealing a magical Old West rifle, capable of killing demons—but then remembered nineties DC wouldn’t force some terrible crossover between distinct artistic properties. Ah, the old days. I mean, outside Balent Catwoman, who Tommy and Natt salivate over in an unfortunate manner.

While the siege takes five issues to resolve, there are a couple big diversions—first, Etrigan’s Hell mission, then drunken “studperhero” Sixpack putting together his team of misfit meta-humans to help out Tommy and friends. Ennis gets away with a couple things with the misfits I can’t believe they let him do on the main DC label. Like, did they switch pages at the printer or something? So there’s a nice balance of humor and suspense and then a whole bunch of romance, as Tommy figures he and Tiegel need to talk out their proto-relationship problems even if they’re in imminent danger. Maybe more so.

Most of the relationship development happens in one of the done-in-ones, but there’s excellent groundwork throughout the main arc. Oodles of chemistry.

Ennis writes the heck out of demon Etrigan, both in Hell and out; I’m thinking I need to hit that Demon series at some point too. He’s got an enthusiasm to it, even though it’s very purple.

Oh, and the siege arc has a lot of Sam Peckinpah references; it’s kind of strange to see Ennis drop all sorts of (specific) pop culture references, but it was the nineties, after all.

The first done-in-one is Tommy and Tiegel’s first proper date, with Steve Pugh doing the art. Pugh brings a lot to it, especially for the constrained setting and story—there’s some banter with Tommy and Natt, then the date going sideways once Tiegel’s parents show up—but having Pugh handle the more human moments… makes it distinct. Not saying McCrea couldn’t have done them, but Pugh’s art is more gentle.

Or something.

It works, but it’s also just fine Pugh’s not back for the second done-in-one, which has Tommy and Natt hunting down a radioactive Santa Claus, hell-bent on killing as many people as he can. There’s a big “Simpsons” reference, and the whole story’s narration feels like a nod to How the Grinch Stole Christmas. It works out nicely. But it’s not as impressive as an action narrative as the main story or a character one as the date issue. It’s a Christmas special, whereas the other two stories have to make their own special.

McCrea’s back on pencils for the Christmas story, with Pugh inking. It looks good. Now, radioactive supervillain Santa attacking Gotham on Christmas Eve… just saying, Batman sort of should’ve noticed.

It’s the best Hitman collection so far. I wasn’t sold on the Tiegel and Tommy stuff but now I’m most definitely invested.

Hitman: Local Heroes (1996-97)

Hitman: Local Heroes

Local Heroes collects two story arcs; the first is the Local Heroes one, about metahuman hitman Tommy having to team up with Kyle Rayner Green Lantern to take on the C.I.A. The C.I.A. wants to start controlling the supes, and suddenly it's like The Boys in here. I hadn't realized writer Garth Ennis worked through ideas over such a long term; Ennis has got his themes—like drunk Irish men—but if I've ever recognized echoes throughout his career, I've forgotten. I've also never read this far into Hitman before, and maybe everyone knows about the Boys echo. Whatever. Just saying.

So the main story is four issues. The second story is two issues. All by Ennis and artist Joel McCrea. You get pretty much equal amounts Hitman in both; the difference is there are subplots in the feature story, and the back-up's pretty much all action. Which one is better? Well, the feature's Ennis constantly pwning Kyle Rayner (with D.C.'s consent and, therefore, tacit approval), and it's pretty funny. It even manages to get a little deeper in contrast, with Ennis delving into the moralities of the comic and its protagonist, turning it into a slight humor bit with Green Lantern and sort of leaving it running in the background. Every once in a while, there's a return to it—also because Tommy picks up a new love interest, a suspended Gotham City cop who just happens to be intelligent, head-strong, incorruptible, and adorable with family members. Her name's Detective Tiegel, but he calls her Debs because it's post-feminist when Tommy does it. After all, he clearly respects her.

Another Ennis theme—the lady sidekick.

So Tiegel is also questioning the morality of hanging out with a hitman, which helps keep that subplot going even when Green Lantern isn't pontificating about it.

The bad guys are Truman and Feekle (sound it out); Truman's the brain, Feekle's the muscle. They hire the cops (roping Tiegel into the narrative) to help them kill Tommy if Tommy doesn't play ball, but then after Tommy doesn't, and the cops bungle it, they bring in Green Lantern Kyle Rayner because Kyle Rayner is a dope. Things continue to go wrong, leading to varied team-ups between the good guys against the bad guys. Also, in the background, Tommy is a local hero for standing up to the cops and his continued mourning over his best friend (killed last collection).

Ennis really plays up the neighborhood setting of Hitman, creating a Hell's Kitchen analog in Gotham called "The Cauldron." It's overboard, but it's okay. Like, the comics are from the mid-nineties, years before Daredevil got popular enough to make it seem like a lift. Ennis's wordy Tommy narration almost entirely focuses on his mourning, which is fine. I mean, it's definitely wordy, but it's okay.

Similarly, Tommy and Tiegel are fine. They're cute enough together, but it feels too soon. The story opens with Tommy bemoaning his recent breakup (over being a hitman), and it's not like they have enough chemistry anything needs rushing. They're just a good team. But Tommy's a good partner for anyone. Even Green Lantern Kyle Rayner. Tommy's most crucial superpower is the chemistry Ennis gives him with other characters. Tommy's a smart-ass but not aggressive about it.

The second story has Tommy and his fellow mercenaries and hitmen going up against a bunch of zombies. Some mad scientist kills his partner—it's Gotham City, after all—and wants to prove to the world they figured out how to make zombies.

The narrative's real simple; Tommy gets the job, Tommy goes on the job, it's the job. Sure, there are constantly arriving sidekicks, some with potential drama, but if it plays out, it plays out on the job. It's a mostly action story, and it's full of great zombies. Like, McCrea and Ennis come up with a great twist for the zombies and the rules to zombies. It's inventive in a way they don't need to worry about when there are four issues to the story. Two-parter is set up, cliffhanger, cliffhanger resolve, third act, epilogue. There's no time for subplots or girls or conspiracies. It's lean.

And it's great.

Kind of better than the main story. Because the main story's just good, the second story's great.

Hitman's an outstanding comic.

Hitman: Ten Thousand Bullets (1996-97)

Hitman: Ten Thousand Bullets

So when I said I was going to keep going with Hitman after reading the first volume last June, I meant it. I did not go back and reread it (though I’ve perused since finishing this second collection) and was able to mostly follow the story so Hitman can withstand a sixteen-and-a-half-month break, which is impressive.

I also didn’t read the introduction by Kevin Smith. It’s a little bit too effusive about Hitman writer Garth Ennis. So it stings when you get through a quarter of the collection and agree with Smith’s effusiveness, jealous he got to be the one to tell Garth, and you didn’t. Like, there’s a moment where Hitman just clicks, and then it keeps going all the way through.

Ten Thousand Bullets is a collection of three stories; six comics, three stories. The first is a four-issue arc–Ten Thousand Bullets, then there’s an Ennis one-shot-aside single issue, then there’s an annual. Joel McCrea does the art on most of it, with Carlos Ezquerra and Steve Pugh doing the art on the annual. They take turns, with Ezquerra doing a riff on McCrea’s art, then Pugh doing a riff on it, then Ezquerra again. It’s a great-looking issue because there’s so much contrast between the artists, but you’re already used to the Hitman visual motif because they’re doing the “house” McCrea style, so you can see the choices better having just deep-dived with five issues of McCrea.

The main story has Hitman Tommy Monaghan trying to take down a vigilante who kills drug dealers, then sells their stuff himself. Kind of like an evil Robin Hood. The vigilante’s name is NightFist, and he’s a direct riff on Jim Valentino’s ShadowHawk. Like, if the one-shot and annual hadn’t been so affecting, I was going to open this post asking what Jim Valentino ever did to Garth Ennis because there’s a story there. And if there’s not… I mean, ShadowHawk was always a good punchline.

For help with the job, Tommy calls in his old friend, Natt, and welcomes him to the regular supporting cast, which includes the bar buddies and then Wendy, the girl Tommy met before in the series.

At the same time, the existing series bad guy is back and after Tommy, hiring a better hitman—one who knows how Tommy’s superpowers (mind-reading and x-ray vision) work.

There’s action, there’s comedy, there’s tragedy, there’s McCrea’s enthusiastic art. Some of the tension in the action comes from the visual pacing alone, with McCrea building between panels. They use the same tension in the comedy sequences, where Tommy and Natt’s constant bro banter isn’t exactly funny, but it hits really well. Especially after Tommy explains we’re about to hear the story of how he lost his girl and his best friend. Ennis actually understands how past tense works, which might be where I wanted to be the one to get to write his introductions, and it brings this sense of impending tragedy in just the right way. Because the comic’s still funny, it’s just bittersweet. And then Ennis sort of leans on the bittersweet nature of it all. Though in Hitman parlance, it’s more like he pushes his thumb into a bullet wound, intensifying Tommy’s experiences, tying into the narrator versus the actor.

It’s really well-written comics.

More than makes up for the story getting loose a couple times.

The one-shot and the annual aren’t ever loose. Ennis has got them tightly controlled, he and McCrea finding the perfect pacing for the Final Night tie-in one-shot. While the Super Friends fight to save planet Earth from—was it evil Green Lantern—Tommy and his friends hunker down in the bar.

Of course, we know now if Superman got on the news and told us to stay inside or we’d get vaporized, forty percent of us would go out on the streets. Maybe it happened back in the sixties in the comics and Darwin and all.

Anyway.

The guys in the bar sit around and tell stories of when they came closest to death and what saved them. Ennis does war stories, he does parables, he does kid stories. McCrea keeps it all steady between the vignettes, doing some minute style changes, but more like he’s expanding the visual palette than switching to a new one. It’s real good and echoes back to a flashback from the main story, which is another place Ennis takes a big swing with the series and the tone.

Of course, nothing prepares for the annual, which is a homage to the Sergio Leone and Clint Eastwood “Dollars Trilogy.” Tommy ends up in a modern spaghetti Western, playing good guy off bad. There’s a great Klaus Kinski joke too. It’s a funny story—lots of jokes, probably the most per capita—and a nice friendship arc for Tommy and a guest star. Ennis homages deep, sometimes running a riff on a Leone narrative beat underneath scenes related to the Hitman content. It’s very nicely done.

Though you probably need to have some strong feelings about whether Good, the Bad, and the Ugly is actually the best to get as jazzed up as me, Ennis, or Tommy get jazzed up. But seeing Pugh go wild doesn’t need any context. There’s some excellent art from both him and Ezquerra on the annual.

So, once again, I can’t wait to keep going on Hitman.

Once again, I really, really intend to do it sooner than sixteen months from now.

Nightwatch (1997, Ole Bornedal)

Thanks to a weak performance from lead Ewan McGregor and an obviously altered ending, Nightwatch straddles being a reasonably perverse suspense thriller and a scalding commentary on middle-class white male masculinity. McGregor is a third-year law school student who takes a job at the morgue to help pay for he and girlfriend Patricia Arquette’s giant apartment. She’s from a wealthy family, but McGregor wants to pay his own way. The film takes place in L.A. but never emphasizes it; the action is either the apartment, the morgue, or one of the various locations McGregor ends up with best buddy Josh Brolin. Those locations usually involve drinking and Brolin feeling bad because he’s not toxically macho enough. Being shitty to girlfriend Lauren Graham is getting less and less rewarding to Brolin, so he needs to take it up a notch.

We get this character set up during the opening credits; the film opens with a girl being murdered, then there’s opening credits with the four friends—McGregor, Arquette, Brolin, Graham—having a party (complete with McGregor wearing a native war bonnet, which simultaneously ages terribly but also tells you just what kind of dipshit McGregor will turn out to be). Intercut with the party are clips of cop Nick Nolte on the news giving an interview about a serial killer; the opening scene showed one of the murders.

Nolte’s going to be very important to Nightwatch—the eventual star and absolutely fantastic—but he’s not going to show up until the second act. The first act is about McGregor getting settled at the morgue, and then he and Brolin’s middle-class, white-collar white boy attempts to butch up. Or Brolin’s attempts and McGregor fawning over him because McGregor’s in deep need of a male authority figure. It actually figures into the plot and puts McGregor and Arquette in danger, so it turns out the first act buildup pays off. Even with the reshot ending, which ends things a little too abruptly and artlessly (I mean, Nightwatch has a killer Taxi Driver homage, it ought to have a good ending), everything in the film eventually pays off so well it smoothes over the bumps.

The second act will have Brolin escalating and becoming more and more dangerous to McGregor’s well-being—bringing sex worker Alix Koromzay into their lives. Koromzay does pretty well with a bad part; one of the bumps the film has to smooth out is when Brolin humiliates her for his own pleasure while McGregor sits by dumbfounded. Because Nightwatch is all about guys being shitty, actually. They’re either abusive like Brolin, impotent like McGregor, resigned like Lonny Chapman (the former nightwatchman), doped up like doctor Brad Dourif (it’s a small part, but he’s outstanding), or content with the failure like Nolte. It’s a profoundly misanthropic film and is the better for it. McGregor being a limp noodle makes his unsure performance hit better. In the first half the problem’s McGregor’s American accent; in the second half, everyone is more interesting than him—including Brolin, who gets astoundingly far on just an “I’m an asshole” bit. Especially once Arquette gets something to do.

For the first half of the movie, Arquette’s barely in the film. She snuggles McGregor every once in a while and sends him off to work, but she’s not active. But once she gets active, once McGregor and Brolin’s shenanigans start getting more serious, it’s kind of her movie. Outside being Nolte’s movie, because Nolte runs off with it. Director Bornedal holds off on letting Nolte loose because there’s no way to bring the film back once he does. Nolte runs it. It’s a mesmerizing performance.

The excellent performances—Nolte, Dourif, Chapman—and the eventually really good performances—Arquette and Brolin—make up for McGregor. Plus, the character’s a twerp, so there’s not much required of the performance; a better performance from McGregor, one capable of holding its ground with Nolte, would entirely change the film. Nightwatch gets away with the juxtapose of thriller and masculinity musing because of McGregor. With a good performance in the part, it wouldn’t.

Technically, Nightwatch is stellar. Bornedal’s direction, Sally Menke’s editing, and Richard Hoover’s production design are the big winners. Dan Lausten’s photography and Joachim Holbek’s music are both good and sometimes essential, but they’re not actively excelling the other cylinders.

The script’s also got some really intense moments—Bornedal adapted his Danish version, with Steven Soderbergh cowriting—particularly for Nolte.

Nightwatch is good.

Frasier (1993) s05e09 – Perspectives on Christmas

Perspectives on Christmas is an exceptionally easy episode, starting with the title. There’s even a plot point about someone not trying hard enough with Christmas presents after making a big deal about trying hard with Christmas presents, which seems to be some kind of meta plea to be allowed an easy Christmas episode from writer Christopher Lloyd.

The episode is split into four parts, with John Mahoney, Jane Leeves, David Hyde Pierce, and Peri Gilpin all telling their masseuse what’s been going on the last couple days regarding Christmas. It’s an easy gimmick and sets up a bunch of good laughs, but they’re all exceptionally easy. Like Mahoney being bad at singing a note in a Christmas carol, Leeves thinking Mahoney’s dying, Hyde Pierce in a slapstick bit, Gilpin having a screaming match with Kelsey Grammer while she’s dressed as Mrs. Claus and he’s Santa, around a bunch of shocked kids.

It’s all very, very easy.

And some of it absolutely hilarious because the cast is great. But it always feels like Lloyd and director David Lee are getting away with something, leveraging the cast, leveraging the situation, instead of actually reaching for anything. There’s no attempt at being a great Christmas episode in terms of the “goodwill” vibe, rather everyone’s in one state of miserable or another, even though there’s very little specific to the characters outside Gilpin’s pregnancy causing a plot point. But there’s no discussion of Grammer’s kid, Mahoney’s girlfriend, Leeves’s family back home, or Hyde Pierce’s martial troubles. Again, it’s all very easy, which sometimes can up the antics—Leeves in hysterics over everything Mahoney says, Hyde Pierce and the slapstick, Santa and Mrs. Claus melting down.

There’s some vaguely interesting developments—well, at least one—we get to see how Leeves experiences Hyde Pierce’s doting, which is both wonderful and creepier. Mahoney gets an absolutely fantastic finale to his arc, which has him trying to hide his participation in a Christmas pageant from Leeves. Some of the deception leads to her thinking he’s dying, but it’s all very problematic when you consider she’s a trained healthcare professional.

Great performances from the cast; okay, easy writing and directing; it’s an often really funny episode, but it needs to be since Lloyd is going for three jokes a minute to cover for not having the story down. If it weren’t for the actors, they’d never be able to get away with this episode.

Frasier (1993) s05e08 – Desperately Seeking Closure

After surviving a whole episode as Kelsey Grammer’s love interest, Lindsay Frost dumps him at the beginning of this one, setting Grammer off on a self-reflection whine arc for the whole show.

It’s an on-point episode as far as the character goes—Grammer’s done an obsessing episode at least once before, if not twice. Last time it wasn’t about being dumped, however.

Grammer’s good at being whiney and annoying—actually, the episode provides a fairly comprehensive list of character defects in a hilarious sequence (Peri Gilpin and Jane Leeves cracking up at the jokes in scene)—but it’s fairly tiresome given there aren’t any subplots. John Mahoney and Leeves get a joke to themselves and David Hyde Pierce gets a coffee shop anecdote at the start. Otherwise, it’s all about Grammer and what’s wrong with him. Wait, I forgot. There’s a good remote control bit and it’s the second funniest thing in the episode after the character defect scene.

There’s an eventual okay character arc from it, but in the meantime there’s just a lot of whining. Rob Hanning’s got the writer credit. He asks a lot of the actors to pull it off. They pull it off for sure—and Pamela Fryman’s direction is excellent—but it’s a fairly thin story about Grammer coming to terms with different expectations for the relationship with Frost.

Despite getting to come back for a second appearance as a Grammer love interest, a rare feat, Frost gets practically nothing to do until the last scene and even then it’s playing off Grammer being absurd. The stuff with Grammer namedropping all the celebrities he gets to meet thanks to dating famous attorney Frost (who shouldn’t be in town after the month they’ve been dating because last episode established she was just there temporarily)… I mean, Hyde Pierce being annoying with Grammer being a shallow star f*cker is good because Hyde Pierce is great at expressions and his timing of them, but they're smiles, not laughs.

Hanning can’t seem to do laughs, just smiles and monotony.

Still, the scene where Grammer forces the cast to have an intervention with him is pretty hilarious, with Mahoney, Leeves, and Gilpin all getting to shine. Hyde Pierce is excellent in it too, but the others get all the best material.

It’s fine. Well-acted, really well-directed, okay script. It’s just a bit of a cop out as far as a resolve on the relationship between Grammer and Frost. Especially since Grammer spent the entire last two and a half seasons whining about not being able to get a date.

Frasier (1993) s05e07 – My Fair Frasier

Frasier (Kelsey Grammer) finally gets to end an episode without driving away his latest love interest—this time it’s Lindsay Frost, guest starring as a high powered attorney who’s in town to try a sensational case and she and Grammer have a meet cute where she helps him get a purse returned. See, Peri Gilpin’s pregnant and very moody, so she doesn’t like the purse Grammer got her. Except she also just doesn’t like the purse Grammer got her.

So when Grammer goes to return it, they won’t take it back until Frost intercedes and basically Karens the clerk until they relent. Only Grammer and Frost head out from their meet cute before he can actually get his money back, which is a fine enough gaff because it means there won’t be anymore vaguely transphobic jokes about Grammer possibly being a crossdresser. They’re not specific, just credited writer Jay Kogen thinks it’s really funny to have a set full of women laugh at the idea of Grammer being a crossdresser. Wokka wokka.

The majority of the episode is the supporting cast conferring with Grammer about him not being the alpha in the relationship with Frost, who breaks their dates, uses Grammer for quickies, and doesn’t appreciate the time he puts into cooking. There’s a decent enough resolution to it all—especially after Grammer meets all the other trophy wives—but it’s a bit of an easy episode. No one else gets a subplot, with Gilpin disappearing after the opening scene until the end credits when it’s a repeat of the moody pregnant lady gag (albeit extremely well-acted), with David Hyde Pierce being shaken to his core by a boat show snack bar the closest the episode ever gets.

Those asterisks aside, everyone’s really good supporting Grammer in his contemplations over the relationship.

Frost’s a fine guest star. She’s barely in the episode (actually it all reminds way too much of the Sela Ward guest starrer, which opened the season—they may even go to the same restaurant) and even when she is around, she’s an accessory to Grammer (while in the plot he’s her accessory). It’s a solid showcase for Grammer, who’s very good at being whiney about everything. It’s Kogen’s first episode (of many) as writer so hopefully he’ll improve but he could’ve done a lot worse; although, I was expecting more from a Jeff Melman directed outing.

Frasier (1993) s05e06 – Voyage of the Damned

It’s a particularly excellent episode, with the cast—minus Jane Leeves, who gets one great showcase scene and is then out—going on an Alaskan cruise. Peri Gilpin’s got a friend looking to book a celebrity entertainer and after some mild cajoling (and Gore Vidal-name dropping), Kelsey Grammer agrees to go and give a speech.

David Hyde Pierce and John Mahoney end up going with after Grammer gets home to find a despondent Hyde Pierce loitering around the apartment. Maris is giving him the cold shoulder on their wedding anniversary after he had thought it would be a good time to work on their reconnecting. Mahoney just wants the buffet.

The opening is tightly executed; Jeffrey Richman’s got the writing credit, Pamela Fryman directs. There’s just the right combination of jokes and exposition to set up the idea of the cruise, both at the radio station with Gilpin and Grammer, then back at the apartment. Because once they get on the ship, it’s a comedy of errors and the jokes are going to be fast and frequent, putting the cast through their paces.

The initial setup on the cruise is Grammer pissed off he doesn’t have the nicest room, Mahoney overeating at the buffets, Hyde Pierce fending off an amorous acquaintance (Stephanie Faracy), while Gilpin’s getting similar attention from a seventies one-hit disco wonder “The Barracuda” (Miguel Pérez). Both Faracy and Pérez have scant moments to establish themselves and both do a fine job. Pérez’s speedy character introduction has to resonate because he’s going to be very important to the rest of the episode, although he’s mostly off screen. Gilpin and Grammer become convinced Pérez has got something inappropriate up his sleeve and so they snoop around investigating, which just gets them into more and more trouble, their situation quickly becoming screwball.

Grammer and Gilpin are phenomenal this episode, handling the absurdity of their situation just right, with Mahoney’s eventual inclusion just ratcheting it up another few notches. Everyone works in great timing with one another, especially since there’s often something big joke going on around them. There’s one time you can just watch Gilpin not able to hold in the laughs in the background; it works for the scene, but it’s very clearly Gilpin.

Hyde Pierce is also excellent; he ends up with the spotlight in the beginning scenes of the cruise ship section, then fades out a bit, the episode then focusing Gilpin, Grammer, and Mahoney and their antics. Hyde Pierce gets more to do in the finale, wrapping everything together nicely.

Voyage of the Damned is an awesome episode. Definitely an exemplar. The cast and the crew nail it, with Grammer, Gilpin, and Mahoney a fantastic comedy team.