Frasier (1993) s07e08 – The Late Dr. Crane

This episode has wonderful balance. It’s a “bigger” episode than usual, with a couple new big sets—a hospital waiting room, a doctor’s office—and it opens with Kelsey Grammer and David Hyde Pierce in a car. Everything’s going to mix barbed wit with sincerity, giving the episode a bittersweet quality.

But first, Hyde Pierce needs to accidentally break Grammer’s nose during a car accident in a very funny banter and physical comedy combination for the opening. The episode gives each actor a subplot—the title Late Dr. Crane refers to Grammer, but Hyde Pierce actually slightly more time. Or at least, more impact. And definitely time to himself, while Grammer’s arc is a family arc.

At the hospital, through an inspired series of events, Grammer is pronounced dead. Only he’s fine, and sitting around watching the evening news with his family for the obituary. This revelation comes after Hyde Pierce has already started his subplot, and brought it into the setting for Grammer’s arc to kick off. It’s exquisitely plotted; the script is credited to Rob Hanning and it’s a good script. It throws a number of mid-scene curves, too, which director Robert H. Egan handles beautifully.

See, Hyde Pierce’s subplot involves plastic surgeon Jane Adams. Adams is Hyde Pierce’s ex-wife’s doctor and has been billing him by mistake. Going to sort it out while Grammer waits (and doesn’t) in the emergency room, Hyde Pierce becomes quickly enamored with Adams, who’s a fastidious snob. Lots of good physical comedy from both actors when Hyde Pierce starts observing her similar behaviors. It’s awesome.

Except he’s too nervous to ask her out, which will eventually figure into Grammer’s mortality arc, and instead just starts getting procedures. The first one is Botox, which kicks off lengthy discussion—it’s 1999, Botox isn’t mainstream yet—and jokes from John Mahoney. Plus physical gags with a deaden forehead on Hyde Pierce.

The episode relay sprints through the scenes, which often have the entire apartment cast. Then once the condolence baskets start arriving and Mahoney wants to keep them, there’s even more going on at once.

Though not for Jane Leeves or Peri Gilpin. Gilpin gets to do a quick scene involving Grammer’s plot, and Leeves is just around for the apartment scenes. It’s Hyde Pierce’s episode, with Grammer and Mahoney essentially getting a very involved “sending off” support arc for him. Adams’s is clearly going to be back. (Or it’d be a surprise if she isn’t).

Surprisingly mentioned but not actually back is Gigi Rice’s new neighbor character. She gets mentioned multiple times, even figuring into a plot point, but they manage to keep her offscreen.

Smartly constructed stuff; it’s an excellent episode. Good performances, good laughs, good character development. Grammer’s obsessing over his mortality arc might end up being mostly for supporting Hyde Pierce, but it’s strong work on its own. Great balance here, just great.

Frasier (1993) s07e07 – A Tsar Is Born

This episode’s a great example of how a long-running show (probably specifically sitcom) can benefit from that longevity. There are new things in the culture relevant to the show, which it can now comment on. In this case, “Antiques Roadshow,” or whatever they call it on Tsar. “Roadshow” started in 1997, “Frasier” started in 1993. This 1999 episode offers a wonderful integration.

Both Kelsey Grammer and David Hyde Pierce are big fans of the program, making an evening out of watching an episode. They’ve got Grammer’s apartment to themselves because dad John Mahoney’s going out for a boozer. Only then Mahoney’s pal cancels, and the boys think they’re out of luck; Mahoney promises they can have the TV after his program’s finished.

Of course, his program is “Antiques Roadshow” too. For the first time in seasons upon seasons of episodes, Grammer, Hyde Pierce, and Mahoney find something they all enjoy. They even come up with a drinking game for whenever someone says “veneer.” It’s a fantastic bonding sequence, in some ways more touching than when they have their occasional heartfelt moments in episodes because it gets to be comedic. And let them all play to their characters’ eccentricities without anyone being the butt of a joke.

At the end of “Roadshow,” they find out the show’s coming to town, so they’re going to go and bring some of Mahoney’s family relics. It kicks off a hilarious plot about the Romanov dynasty, scullery maids, and Winnebagos. I’m not sure if A Tsar Is Born is an exemplar “Frasier” going back to the start of the series, but it’s definitely a mid-run exemplar. The episode goes all out, too, with a scene set at the touring “Roadshow,” where Grammer and Hyde Pierce can be appropriately snobby.

The script’s credited to Charlie Hauck, whose name seemed familiar but not from this show (Tsar is his first of two “Frasier” episodes). It’s a really good script. Especially since it gives Peri Gilpin and Jane Leeves a little more to do than usual.

Still lovelorn, Gilpin checks out a laptop from the station to get on the World Wide Web. Presumably firing up Netscape Navigator, she’s met a nice guy online, and Grammer tries to convince Gilpin she’s being catfished. The subplot only gets a couple scenes, but there’s a nice moment for Gilpin and Mahoney, who haven’t gotten to hang out lately. Then the punchline is absolutely hilarious and provides an excellent showcase for Gilpin.

Leeves gets showcased, too… though dressed as a go-go dancer. She and (off-screen) fiancé Saul Rubinek have different ideas of appropriate wedding attire, but Hyde Pierce gets some great reactions to Leeves in scanty sixties wedding dress. She also gets to make some good rejoinders to Grammer during his peak snobbery. It’s also nice to see Hyde Pierce have some—albeit highly inappropriate—passion. It’s been a while.

Good direction from Pamela Fryman, great resolution for the A-plot–A Tsar is Born is an excellent sitcom episode.

Frasier (1993) s07e06 – Rivals

What’s most impressive about Rivals is how “Frasier” can keep doing these episodes. The title refers to brothers Kelsey Grammer and David Hyde Pierce, who this time think they’re both interested in the same woman, only they’re both interested in different women and are confused. They won’t just talk to each other about it—though Hyde Pierce’s situation is much different than Grammer’s—so they’re able to remain obtuse for long enough the episode can run its course.

Jane Leeves’s only scenes involve her telling Grammer if he’d just talk to Hyde Pierce about it, they’d get it all sorted out, and Grammer waves her off. While it’s a waste of Leeves—the episode also wastes Peri Gilpin for the most part—it’s a very appropriate behavior from Grammer; seven seasons in, the show knows its characters and how to play them off each other, even if the sibling rivalry thing is one of the sitcom’s trope plots by now.

Hyde Pierce is convinced Grammer’s got a crush on station owner’s daughter Katie Finneran, returning from earlier this season, while Grammer’s convinced Hyde Pierce likes Gigi Rice. Rice is Grammer’s new neighbor, who gets locked out of her apartment in just her towel, so John Mahoney takes her in. It gives Mahoney a chance to be a safe but gross old dude and allows him and Grammer to do a fun bit with Mahoney trying too hard to set Grammer up with her.

Very experienced “Frasier” writer Christopher Lloyd’s got the script credit. It knows how to get the laughs; it just has to wiggle a lot to set them up after a while.

Rice is one of Hyde Pierce’s patients, which they aren’t sharing with Grammer, so he’s convinced Hyde Pierce is after her. Grammer can’t stand Finneran, who acts differently around Hyde Pierce, so Hyde Pierce doesn’t believe Grammer’s denials. Rice gets the big introduction scene with Mahoney and Grammer, but Finneran’s basically just in the opening bit, so it’s uneven. Also, the show makes fun of Finneran a lot, so she can’t be too likable. And then Rice is the bigger guest star.

They all end up at a charity ball together, leading to Grammer and Hyde Pierce scowling at each other across the dance floor to good effect. It’s a funny episode, ably directed by Katy Garretson. It’s a successful episode… it’s just… not very ambitious.

The end credits sequence is Gilpin’s sad love life? It’s an out-of-nowhere tag since she had nothing going about it in the main episode; it’s just her character now, unlucky in love. Odd.

Frasier (1993) s07e05 – The Dog That Rocks the Cradle

This episode’s a sequel to the previous season finale, a two-parter where one of the subplots had Peri Gilpin sad about dating and ending up in bed with Dan Butler. The story resolves with Butler leaving the radio station—fired for bad ratings—saving Gilpin from having to address her seemingly growing but decidedly unwanted feelings for him.

Months later, Butler delivers a pizza to Gilpin and Kesley Grammer. They’re working late, she doesn’t have a babysitter, her love life hasn’t improved, but she’s finally got a date. Butler’s not doing well but tries to play it off, so Gilpin hires him to be her babysitter.

And Butler’s great babysitter, he’s just also sabotaging all of Gilpin’s dates.

It’s story editor Bob Daily’s first writing credit, and it often feels overly “Frasier”-y. Grammer and David Hyde Pierce have really funny snob moments; John Mahoney gets to be gruff and put the boys in an awkward spot; Jane Leeves gets mostly reaction shots but good ones.

But the Gilpin storyline—which started last season finale about her loneliness—gets kicked down the road once again. The show emphasizes it and ends on it, but seemingly just making it part of Gilpin’s ground situation, not an active plot in her life. Instead of dealing with her, it centers the story on Butler and his motivations. Again, there’s some hilarious stuff because Butler and Gilpin are great, but it’s a little too slight. Especially taking it being a follow-up episode into account.

Matt Roth shows up for a couple quick scenes as one of Gilpin’s potential love interests, which is nice. Always nice not to see him being an asshole.

Grammer doesn’t really get an arc outside the family one—he and Hyde Pierce want Mahoney to make arrangements for his departure from this mortal plane, which Mahoney finds morbid, but then realizes might not be best left in their hands.

Good direction from Pamela Fryman throughout. The resolution for Butler and Gilpin’s arc gets a little draggy, but the two punchlines—comedy and emotional—pay off. Unfortunately, they just don’t have any idea what to do with Gilpin once those bits’re done.

Frasier (1993) s07e04 – Everyone’s a Critic

It’s as though “Frasier” heard me across time and made some immediate adjustments—it’s another radio station episode, but unlike last episode, it features a bunch of scenes for Kelsey Grammer and Peri Gilpin at work. It’s also got regular station guest cast (Edward Hibbert), and then station manager Tom McGowan’s practically a regular.

There are some caveats, of course, but for the episode overall, not the station stuff.

Or if there are station-related caveats, they’re part of the bigger caveat, which is guest star Katie Finneran. Finneran plays the station owner’s daughter, a ditzy, dull rich girl testing out Mom’s properties to decide her future career.

The episode introduces Finneran as the B-plot but then brings her back up to the A-plot. It’s good plotting—Joe Keenan gets the script credit, which is full of laughs—but it’s entirely based on everyone thinking Finneran is terrible. While she’s tedious and annoying, so’s everyone else at the station in one way or another, at least the radio personalities. It’s McGowan’s bit—he’s managing all these Seattle talk radio prima donnas–but Finneran’s a bridge too far, apparently.

The opening has Grammer foisting Finneran off on Gilpin (who doesn’t know she’s a bore yet), then going home to find out David Hyde Pierce has gotten a job as a culture critic. The episode has many Grammer and Hyde Pierce rivalry hallmarks, but the Finneran subplot takes some of the space from them, so the episode doesn’t feel rote. It just feels awkwardly mean and a little misogynist. Would everyone give Finneran the same kind of shit if she were a wealthy, dippy son?

Also, since Finneran’s never mean-spirited or even as snooty as Grammer or Hyde Pierce, the hostility is off-putting. Finnegan’s character isn’t tiring in her scenes as much as everyone’s reaction to her, like when Jane Leeves sits and glowers at her. Though Grammer’s sucking up to her at that point, so Leeves is also glowering at Grammer. That sequence, which has six seasons of history—Leeves regularly seeing Grammer playing sycophant to some rich jackass or another—is the most inaccessible I think “Frasier”’s ever been. Outside “Cheers” references.

Leeves is great at glowering, don’t get me wrong, and it’s an appropriate response, but it requires a lot of show knowledge.

There’s some good material for John Mahoney, who gets the C-plot about Eddie the dog hunting down a kid’s missing hamster, as well as reacting to Hyde Pierce and Grammer’s competitive bickering. Maybe it’d be more of a rivalry episode if Hyde Pierce were in it more, but the episode doesn’t follow him at all.

There’s also a weird continuity gaffe where Mahoney and maybe Hyde Pierce both know Finneran without ever having met her (onscreen). Perhaps something got cut. It’s okay—and even amusing—but glaring.

It’s a funny, well-acted episode—Hyde Pierce in particular—and it’s nice they know they need to mix up the standards a hundred plus episodes in… but it’d have been nice if they could do it without being jerks. I kept expecting director Pamela Fryman to right the ship but nope.

Frasier (1993) s07e03 – Radio Wars

It’s another new-to-“Frasier” writer credit this episode: welcome, Sam Johnson and Chris Marcil. I just realized the title, Radio Wars, might be a nod to the annual Bar Wars episodes of “Cheers.” There’s not much warring, though, mostly just Kelsey Grammer getting pranked.

The episode begins with Grammer asleep in bed, a phone call waking him. The Academy of Radio Psychiatrists (or some such organization) is calling to ask why he hasn’t gotten back to them about the statue they’re making in his honor. It starts as an award; they add the statue when the show cuts from Grammer to the radio station, where the new comedy guys are pranking him.

Bryan Callen and John Ennis play the pranksters. They’re both fine but entirely incidental. The script keeps pretending Peri Gilpin’s got her eye on Callen but never even puts them near each other in a scene. Their scenes are just setups for Grammer’s great reactions when he figures out the prank.

Grammer emerges from his room, humiliated and outraged, only to discover both Jane Leeves and John Mahoney think it’s hilarious. Apparently, they were listening to the radio at six in the morning for this new radio show.

David Hyde Pierce will figure into some of the later antics, occasionally laughing at Grammer’s credulity, but he’s generally more sympathetic to Grammer’s plight. Especially once Mahoney tells Grammer he’s partially inviting the bullying, which leads to a fantastic sequence where they talk about Grammer and Hyde Pierce pretending to be John Steed from “The Avengers” as kids.

It also leads to a great joke for Hyde Pierce regarding Leeves; this episode’s less chaste about Hyde Pierce’s attraction than the season’s been so far. They at least allow the joke. And the script’s full of good “Frasier” jokes; it’s an enthusiastic script, really flexing the cast. There aren’t any subplots, but everyone gets a little something to do, with Hyde Pierce and Leeves getting the least. Since it’s a work plot, Gilpin gets more than usual, though it’s all bits, no story.

Tom McGowan shows up for a couple scenes as the station boss, which distracts from no one else at the station putting in an appearance. The episode also glides over Grammer and Gilpin not having any scenes during the radio show; everything happens off-screen, but the script knows how to use the constraints for good setups.

It’s a good episode, with some excellent laughs; it’s a little “by the numbers,” but not too much. It’s a solid first showing for Johnson and Marcil, with strong performances from the cast. It’s a bit of a Grammer showcase, but everyone gets at least two good spotlights.

Frasier (1993) s07e02 – Father of the Bride

This episode’s very funny, but often in a “the less you think about it” way. The script’s credited to Mark Reisman (his first credit on the show), and it very impressively gives almost everyone in the main cast a story thread. Except for John Mahoney, who gets a couple hilarious bits but not a thread, and Peri Gilpin’s is tacked onto Jane Leeves’s.

The A-plot is Kelsey Grammer inadvertently taking over Leeves’s wedding planning. Well, wait; he very intentionally takes over the wedding planning, but he inadvertently puts himself in that situation. The episode uses audial gags three times, always to strong effect, with the first being a bad case of hiccups leading Leeves to believe Grammer wants to pay for her entire wedding. She’s frustrated with her interfering mum in the U.K. and is so relieved Grammer’s saving the day, he can’t find a way to back out. The “paying for the wedding” plot goes unresolved; once Grammer starts taking over the wedding, auditioning harpists, caterers, and ministers, it’s the raucous center of attention.

The B-plot is David Hyde Pierce’s new girlfriend, Loryn Locklin, being a high-priced escort. Not because they met somewhere, and he doesn’t know, but rather because he doesn’t know the dating service he’s using is actually an escort service. So, his mistake entirely. Grammer finds out about it from Saul Rubinek, who does his one requisite guest scene as Leeves’s fiancé. The escort thing is an aside for later; otherwise, Rubinek’s there to make things even more awkward for Grammer backing out of his wedding funding commitments.

There are some great scenes for Grammer, who gets more and more obsessed with throwing the perfect wedding, and a few excellent ones for Leeves. Hyde Pierce has some excellent deliveries, but the jokes immediately start molding. See, Locklin doesn’t know Hyde Pierce doesn’t know she’s an escort, which means he’s just being an asshole. So it’s a mistaken identity bit, only an unnecessarily mean-spirited one.

Locklin’s lack of characterization also brings attention to Leeves and Gilpin’s plots, which are of the “decorate and be decorative” nature. Leeves wants to do the decorating, and Gilpin’s upset about Leeves’s wanting to decorate her in an ugly bridesmaid dress. They pass Bechdel for a few scant moments before failing it again.

Sure, it’s an episode in Leeves’s long-going marriage arc, so they will be talking about her marrying dude Rubinek and male boss Grammer interfering, but the dynamics play out a little weird.

Though often very funny. From the first scene, there are a lot of laughs, and they don’t slow down. The episode’s got some actually inspired jokes and bits throughout (a little broad at times but still), and there’s even time for some father and son time for Grammer and Mahoney. Director David Lee maintains great momentum, and the structure’s phenomenal.

It’s just some of the themes are thin and easy.

Frasier (1993) s07e01 – Momma Mia

The season’s off to an excellent start with this episode, which also inadvertently shows how much “Frasier” has changed getting to season seven. First is with Kelsey Grammer directed episodes; Grammer’s first couple efforts didn’t have him around—I think he was entirely absent in one, and showed for the intro in the other—but he’s front and center for most of Momma Mia.

The second development is more subtle and also possibly a result of an already full episode—David Hyde Pierce isn’t low-key lusting after Jane Leeves in their scene together. Leeves has only got one scene (it’s going to be a full episode, after all), but gets to be in on the first reveal of the episode’s punchline—Grammer’s dating a woman who looks just like his mom (guest star Rita Wilson) and doesn’t know it.

Except Hyde Pierce sees it right away and talks to Leeves about it. Dad John Mahoney’s going to have to wait for a little while later into the episode so they can build more tension.

While the episode opens with Grammer’s meet-cute of errors with Wilson, which involves Peri Gilpin’s fix-up not showing up for him, then Gilpin telling the wrong lady she’s caught Grammer’s eye, the episode’s all about Mahoney’s birthday weekend. Grammer and Hyde Pierce are taking him to the family cabin—“Frasier” has gone to many a family cabin and I’m pretty sure none of them have been the same cabin. This cabin is a rental, however, so they get a continuity pass.

Though it doesn’t make sense why they’d rent a cabin when they’ve already got their… never mind.

Hyde Pierce and Grammer quickly start bickering once they arrive, which seems like obvious Crane boys drama in the script—credited to Rob Hanning—but it’s actually all set up. They’re children, with dad Mahoney, and lady who looks like mom Wilson. Leads to some very funny scenes. The episode’s got a lot of laughs, both deliberate ones the script sets up, but then also a bunch of physical material for Hyde Pierce. He’s afraid of the bugs, you see. They even do an absurd bit where he’s got a suitcase with nothing but different kinds of bug repellant. It’s too broad but at least quick.

By the end of the episode, they’ve gotten past all the laughs for some sincere family moments for Grammer, Hyde Pierce, and Mahoney. Despite Mahoney and Hyde Pierce sharing a plot thread, observing Grammer on his separate one with Wilson, there’s even a nice moment for Mahoney and Grammer. It’s an extremely well-constructed episode.

It’s really funny. There are a couple hiccups—the suitcase of bug repellant is the stand-out—but there are a dozen really good laughs. Leeves and Gilpin don’t get a lot of screen time, but they’re very good with what they do get, especially Leeves.

Season seven’s looking good.

From Dusk Till Dawn (1996, Robert Rodriguez)

From Dusk Till Dawn doesn’t have any great performances; it has a bunch of decent ones, a couple good ones, thankless ones, middling ones, bad ones, maybe problematic ones, but no great ones. And it could use a great performance because the script’s full of scenery-chewing dialogue courtesy second-billed Quentin Tarantino.

Tarantino writes a movie he’d want to see, but also one where it’s clear he’s the center of attention. So when it comes time for Salma Hayek’s dance number in the grandiosely sleazy biker bar and strip club where most of the movie takes place, Tarantino’s the one who gets the table dance. He’s the one who gets to suck on some girl’s foot. And he wants everyone watching to know he’s that guy.

His character is a rapist and murderer who has just broken his brother out of jail. George Clooney plays the brother. Genes are funny. Clooney’s the cool, collected professional thief who talks in soulful monologue, listens to people, and only kills civilians when absolutely necessary. He also gets shitfaced when he’s upset and makes terrible decisions, which tracks since he keeps Tarantino alive even though Tarantino’s a monster.

None of that backstory is important to From Dusk Till Dawn. There’s a lot of talking about it because there’s a lot of talking in the movie's first hour, but none of it matters. Once the batshit hits the fan—oh, the sleazy biker strip bar is actually a vampire den—Clooney becomes just another member of the ensemble. He spent the first act and a half of the movie keeping the plot and Tarantino on point, though in the latter case, just cleaning up after the raping and murdering.

Clooney’s one of the decent performances. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have the personality for the dialogue without better direction on his performance, and director Rodriguez’s got zero interest in directing performances. He also gets bored with all the talking; not a good combination.

Clooney and Tarantino need to get into Mexico; all the cops in Texas are looking for them. The film mostly shows it via a TV newscast where the liberal local Texas news media tracks a tally on how many Rangers the brothers kill. John Saxon and Kelly Preston cameo on the TV news; Saxon’s okay, Preston’s terrible. It’s a tedious bit, and she makes it worse.

There’s also a liquor store hold-up where the brothers watch Michael Parks and John Hawkes have a lengthy Tarantino scene. Parks is real good, and Hawkes is pretty good, but the scene’s a draggy way to start. Once it becomes clear Clooney’s actually Tarantino’s sidekick, Dawn loses a bunch of immediate potential; it’s all about Tarantino’s whims.

To get into Mexico, Clooney decides they need to kidnap Harvey Keitel and his teenage kids and ride across the border in their RV. Keitel’s a former minister; his wife died a horrific death, and he’s lost his faith. Juliette Lewis and Ernest Liu play the kids. Liu’s adopted. Clooney and Tarantino make fun of him for being Asian. They also talk a lot of shit about Mexican people. On the one hand, you can kind of see them doing Clooney against type, only it’s not exactly (he just talks trash, he doesn’t act it). On the other, it’s just Tarantino in-virtue signaling because he’s an asshole.

Anyway.

Lewis is good. Liu’s fine. Keitel’s good. Keitel’s got a silly part in an eventually gory movie, and when the time comes for him to step up, it’s mostly just to pass the baton over to Lewis, which is kind of cool. The movie takes little note of it (based on the script structure, it is, actually, because she’s a girl), but she’s the protagonist, and it carries. Rodriguez’s got a little more interest in Keitel and the family.

When the action gets to the vampire bar, there are more supporting cast members to play it out. Hayek’s got an incredibly thankless part, but Fred Williamson and Tom Savini do all right. Especially Savini. Danny Trejo’s oddly bad as the bartender, and then Cheech Marin tries really hard in three different parts. Sadly the bit is it’s Cheech cameoing in three different parts. The amusement factor runs out when the first one drags on, and the film never re-ups.

Rodriguez is more enthusiastic about the gory, slimy, bloody vampire action, so it’s disappointing when it turns out Tarantino’s got no story for it. After moving all the pieces into position, the script craps out.

Good production design from Cecilia Montiel, even if Rodriguez and cinematographer Guillermo Navarro rush over it. When he’s not cutting together one of Tarantino’s ego trips, Rodriguez's editing is good.

Dawn’s okay—Keitel can carry the thing after it’s clear Clooney can’t, with Lewis able to keep it afloat when she needs to take over, too—but it’s utterly desperate to cool; and it’s barely, rarely chilly.

Frankie and Johnny (1991, Garry Marshall)

Besides the sex scene, set to Rickie Lee Jones singing, “It Must Be Love” (which means Al Pacino sings it later as he gleefully reminisces), Frankie and Johnny avoids revealing too much about the private tenderness between Pacino and romantic interest Michelle Pfeiffer. At one point, he says something to her as their first date is wrapping up, and it convinces her to invite him back to her apartment. We don’t get to hear it; we just watch Pacino gesticulate exuberantly as the music swells, and Pfeiffer just can’t resist him any longer.

Pfeiffer is a New York City waitress who’s had only bad relationships, some very, very bad and others still pretty bad. Pacino’s the new grill cook who focuses on her after discovering she’s Frankie to his Johnny, finding more and more coincidences to suggest they should be together. Pfeiffer remains unconvinced. The film covers their courtship—with detours—before examining whether or not they can actually function as a couple, what with Pacino being obnoxiously extroverted at times and Pfeiffer being guarded.

The film’s got its share of problems. First and foremost, the film presents anything but married with children as abnormal. To some degree, it works as an exaggeration of the societal expectations on Pfeiffer, who starts the film back home visiting and standing up as godmother at a christening, with mom K Callan passive-aggressively whining about not having grandchildren. But it’s still reductive, especially for unmarried, ostensibly lonely waitress Jane Morris. Though that characterization also indicates another problem—director Marshall only knows how to direct so much of the film. When it comes time for Pfeiffer and Pacino to capital A act in close-ups and have hard talks, Marshall gets uncomfortable and either hurries away to montage or throws in a joke.

The jokes aren’t bad—they often involve Nathan Lane, who’s fantastic as Pfeiffer’s neighbor and best friend. He’s gay and has just started dating Sean O’Bryan, something Pfeiffer finds out when she gets back from her visit home, meaning we never get to see Pfeiffer and Lane as friends without him in her life less. Another thing Marshall could’ve leaned in on more.

But for the third act, the only time the stage adaptation (Terrence McNally wrote the screenplay from his play) gets to be stagy, as Pacino and Pfeiffer hash it all out, Marshall runs away from both actors. After opening with Pfeiffer (and a quick clip of Pacino getting out), the film’s heavy on him for the first two acts. After all, Pacino’s got the additional getting-out-of-prison story arc and Pfeiffer’s entirely reactive to him. But in the third act, Pfeiffer’s got to shut down his bravado and charm and stake out the space for her performance. McNally’s script makes the room for Pfeiffer, Pacino arguably makes the room for Pfeiffer, but Marshall doesn’t know how to do it. He doesn’t force more Pacino into the scenes, and avoiding him too makes it weirder.

There’s also the odd issue the only thing cinematographer Dante Spinotti doesn’t shoot brilliantly is sunrise in the city. Spinotti’s exterior street scenes, day and night, are fantastic. His interior restaurant scenes are extraordinary; the talking heads scenes between Pfeiffer and Pacino are gorgeously lighted. But he’s too saccharine in the finish. It’s a disconnect, with Marshall’s unsureness compounding the problem.

But the film’s problems don’t surmount the careful, deliberate, marvelous performances. While Pacino’s bombastic and naturally draws attention, Pfeiffer’s observation of the world around her is even more transfixing. Pacino gets to showboat; Pfeiffer just gets to watch and process that showboating for herself (and the film). It’s an incredible narrative device: even though Pacino’s new to the restaurant and the cast, making him the natural perspective, the film actually uses Pfeiffer’s experience of his arrival. We get to know the cast not through Pacino meeting them (well, except Kate Nelligan, sort of), but in Pfeiffer watching it.

It’s a really nice move, and Marshall does pull it off well. Outside the finale, Marshall mostly knows how to direct to showcase his stars, and, given their excellent performances, it works out.

Nelligan’s another waitress at the restaurant who decides she’s going to hook up with Pacino if Pfeiffer doesn’t get her dibs in soon. Nelligan’s also part of the problematic “married or die” aspect (I mean, so’s Lane), but she gets the time and space to act through it. The supporting cast at the restaurant is all good and often lovable. Besides Morris, there’s restaurant owner Hector Elizondo, Glenn Plummer, and Fernando López. In addition, there are some charming regular customers, like Phil Leeds—another layer of the film is how Pfeiffer, Nelligan, and Morris act as de facto part-time caretakers for their aging customer base.

Frankie and Johnny takes place in a nicer than not world, but it’s all very textured thanks to McNally’s script and Marshall’s enthusiasm for supporting actors.

Pfeiffer and Pacino are the show, though. The film’s about them, specifically their performances; everything else is just there to support them. Well, except in the third act when Marshall needs to step up and doesn’t. They’re great. Problems, potholes, and hiccups aside, it’s a wonderful job from them both (Pfeiffer’s better, just saying).

Lovely Marvin Hamlisch score too.