Frasier (1993) s04e13 – Four for the Seesaw

It’s such a good episode. Clearly season four is where “Frasier” hits its stride, but even so, Four for the Seesaw is a really good episode. It starts with Kelsey Grammer getting his flu shot on air and it not going well to the point he faints—giving Peri Gilpin time to flirt with shot administering doctor, Andrew Heckler, which is important because when it’s time for Grammer and David Hyde Pierce (great Gilpin and Hyde Pierce banter too) to find a table at the café, Gilpin begs the single free one off them to meet him. It leaves Grammer and Hyde Pierce in a conundrum about what to do (for a second it seems like they might actually go somewhere besides Nervosa). Instead, Grammer talks a very nervous (no pun) Hyde Pierce into asking a couple women if they can sit with them while they wait for another table to open up.

The women, played by Lisa Darr and Megan Mullally, agree and the quartet sets about making small talk. Darr and Mullally are positive the brothers won’t be interested in their profession, but it turns out it’s right up their alley and they hit it off. There’s great writing—David Lloyd gets the credit—and directing (Jeff Melman), but Darr and Mullally are also key.

After coffee they go to dinner, then back to Grammer’s apartment to meet the fam, have some drinks, and suggestively flirt. John Mahoney’s very happy to see Grammer and Hyde Pierce with women he can stand. He also offers Grammer a cabin in the mountains for the weekend because he won’t be using it (it’s not the previously established fishing cabin they had a season ago). After some back and forth, Grammer decides to keep going with spontaneity and suggests they all head to the cabin for the week. Darr and Mullally agree, but Hyde Pierce is hung up on his separation from Maris… until Grammer reminds him it’s never happened attractive women have been willing to run off with the Crane boys for the weekend and maybe he should embrace it. Between Grammer’s persuasiveness and Mullally finding Hyde Pierce hilarious (in such a perfect way), Hyde Pierce agrees and it’s off to commercial break then the cabin.

The cabin sequence is going to end up funnier than anything before it, which is an achievement, as Hyde Pierce and Grammer’s separate (and individual) neuroses plague them as they try to ascertain their dates’ intentions. The episode’s got two perfect resolutions, first for the quartet, then for Grammer and Hyde Pierce (in the end credits tag). Grammer’s far more sure of the situation than Hyde Pierce, which leads to some valid conflict, internal and external, as well as some great scenes for Hyde Pierce. There’s also a very interesting contrast between Grammer and Hyde Pierce.

Mahoney and Jane Leeves get a follow-up to the flu shot opening scene which is hilarious too. It’s a brief aside, but wondrous.

It’s a hilarious, well-acted, well-written, extremely well-directed episode. Darr and Mullally—and Grammer, for that matter—don’t end up with a lot to do in the last few minutes, but they’re all just right.

Frasier (1993) s04e12 – Death and the Dog

Death and the Dog does a couple things I think are new to “Frasier” and immediately seem like series standards. The first is using the radio show as an episode-long bookend device. The episode opens with Kelsey Grammer and Peri Gilpin bored on a sunny Seattle day and getting a single caller—Patty Duke (not playing Patty Duke, obviously)—and Grammer regales her, the listening audience, and the viewer with a moral tale to help her with her depression problem. I’m pretty sure the episode’s never used a call for bookending before. It’s an obvious device—and it even plays fairly obviously, with occasional interruptions from Gilpin as Grammer divulges too much about her personal life—but all plays well thanks to an excellent Suzanne Martin credited script.

The other new but familiar part of the episode is the entire regular cast—sans Dan Butler, who’s not in this episode and hasn’t been around for a while and must only be included in the regular cast titles when he appears–sitting around the apartment for a lengthy group conversation. James Burrows’s direction is really good on it, but it’s the actors and Martin’s script. See, Eddie the dog has been depressed and the pet psychiatrist Mahoney calls thinks he’s mirroring depression. So everyone talks about what’s got them depressed. It’s a phenomenal talking heads scene, bouncing between the five participants, exquisitely timed and acted.

Zeljko Ivanek guest stars as the pet shrink, who Grammer and Hyde Pierce mercilessly tease (turns out justifiably but it’s no less mean-spirited). Ivanek’s awesome. He’s got this very droll take on the character, which contrasts with Grammer and Hyde Pierce doing their gleeful snob thing. It’s a great scene.

We also get to see Hyde Pierce’s dog again—who hasn’t appeared since last season—as he brings her over to cheer up Eddie while Grammer cautions Mahoney not to point out the obvious similarities between the dog and Maris, Hyde Pierce’s never seen, infamous (and estranged) wife. It’s a quick, but thoughtful and effective set piece. Martin’s script has a number of such set pieces, including the cast discussing how they’d imagine Eddie the dog as a person, in addition to some great recurring bits. Jane Leeves gets the best recurring dialogue, while Gilpin gets this amazing subplot about dating gynecologist Tom Lagleder (against her better judgment).

It’s an excellent episode. The way it showcases the cast’s ability to play off one another (thanks to Martin and Burrows as well obviously) is spectacular. Not to mention how it’s able to get away with the pedestrian framing device thanks to everything else excelling so much.

Great end credits joke too.

Frasier (1993) s04e11 – Three Days of the Condo

I just realized we never get to see the undoubtedly hideous antique Kelsey Grammer is supposed to get from Marsha Mason. Mason’s John Mahoney’s new girlfriend (who the show’s established sons Grammer and David Hyde Pierce do not like because she’s too… earthy) . Grammer and Hyde Pierce get back from antiquing and Mason promises to bring over a new item for his collection; we don’t get to see it, which is a bummer. Though also immaterial because the episode’s so hilarious it doesn’t end up mattering.

It’s another Michael B. Kaplan credited script and it’s an excellent one. From the opening scene, the plots splinter with Grammer getting into a hallway decorating dispute with the condo board and Hyde Pierce and Mahoney getting into something else for a bit. Mahoney needs a place to have date night with Mason where they won’t be interrupted and so Hyde Pierce lends him his bachelor pad during opera night. Unfortunately, it’s a bad performance and Hyde Pierce heads home early to discover (offscreen) Mahoney and Mason. They’d forgotten to hang a tie from the door handle.

Meanwhile, Grammer’s trying to get evil condo board president Dana Ivey (who’s exceptional at dagger stares) to let him have his antique Japanese door knocker, leading to an impassioned speech from Grammer at the meeting. Grammer’s performance this episode’s outstanding; not just that first speech, but then when he’s running to unseat Ivey and doesn’t have the facts on his side, something the viewer knows, something the other condo residents know, and Grammer doesn’t.

Conflict with the homeowners’ association—condo owners’ association—had to have been a trope by the time they got to this episode, but Kaplan’s able to get some fine gristle out of it. Both Mahoney and Jane Leeves have pre-existing conflicts with Ivey (it occurs to me Mason would’ve been the perfect one to take on Ivey but Mason’s offscreen after the first scene), which complications things as the episode unfolds. Peri Gilpin pops in—literally coming over to do work on a Saturday just so she can get a scene and a joke (but good ones)—to offer Grammer her advice.

Hyde Pierce never gets looped back into the A plot, with he and Mahoney resolving their subplot early, though maybe Mahoney’s Mason-fueled enthusiasm for life fuels the final twist. Untied plot knots don’t end up mattering as Kaplan’s writing is so strong and Grammer’s delivery is so good; plus director David Lee’s pacing of the final scene, when Grammer gets an unexpected, unwelcome comeuppance.

Very fun cameo from Austin Pendleton, especially if you know Austin Pendleton.

It’s a really funny episode.

Michael Hayes (1997) s01e06 – Heroes

Paul Haggis has a co-writer credit on the script, which seems to mean—among other things—Hillary Danner is going to get some things to do and Ruben Santiago-Hudson’s going to be good because the writing for him is better. Santiago-Hudson has less to do than last episode, when the writing wasn’t Haggis and was bad, but he’s much better while doing the less. Though the scene where he teases David Caruso about going on a date is weird. Danner’s part is to go off, do work, find results, bring them to Caruso, which ends up being better than Rebecca Rigg, who just sits around with Caruso and spit-balls because she’s the only person smarter than him.

The episode’s a riff on Ransom (the remake not original) with dirtbag FBI agent (dirtbag even for FBI agent, also note how much they code him as working class) Larry Joshua maybe or maybe not framing mail carrier Brad William Henke for a kidnapping of a child. Henke says he rescued the kid on his route, Joshua says he grabbed him and let him go. Henke and his lawyer—a fantastic Amy Aquino—are suing for ten million; Caruso and company are stuck defending Joshua.

The episode doesn’t go full kidnapped child exploitative with the original case, instead contriving a reason to put Caruso’s nephew—Jimmy Galeota, who’s his regular medium grade annoying, nothing more, nothing less—in danger of a child predator. It also tries to show Caruso as the most progressive one in the office about Joshua being a bad cop, though if he’s guilty and Henke’s completely innocent and a real hero, it’s wrong Henke wants damages. Vindication fine; damages no. It’s also unclear what’s supposed to happen to Joshua other than Caruso not having to deal with him. The show’s maybe two steps away from being at least somewhat self-aware. There are a lot of “it was still the nineties” caveats, though it would’ve certainly been better on dirtbag FBI agents than TV would be for years to come. It’s pre-9/11, after all.

Galeota’s got a subplot about loan sharks showing up looking for dad David Cubitt, who shows up for a couple scenes for the first time in a while. Mary B. Ward’s got a couple too. Nothing much of consequence happens in either of them, except Caruso letting Cubitt commit three or four crimes in his effort to be a better bad. There’s a magical bad dad toxic masculinity scene where Cubitt implies Galeota’s pride in him is why he’s got to be a criminal and put he and Ward in danger from aforementioned loan sharks.

The script’s a little more sensational and less procedural than it ought to be—its issues are fundamental—but it’s a decent episode. Caruso’s quite good most of the time, especially in his reactions (somewhere the script’s also strong). Even if some of his reactions are reactionary. And Joshua’s a very effective antagonist guest star, which is more important than him being good in an impossible—for numerous reasons—part.

Michael Hayes (1997) s01e05 – Act of Contrition

There are some really big obvious things to talk about with this episode of “Michael Hayes,” like the Catholic Church and the romanticization of terrorism, specifically the IRA, and how popular American entertainment portrayed both right up until mid-September 2001 for the terrorism and, I don’t know, the late 2010s for the Catholic Church. They still give the Church a pass but they at least pretend to acknowledge it being an international child rape cabal.

What’s interesting about Act of Contrition is the fine line it has to walk. David Caruso might be openly Irish Catholic, but he’s a U.S. Attorney first so when it turns out they need to break the confessional, he’s going to throw a bunch of valid points at priest Peter Onorati but it’s very clear Caruso’s bad for wanting the Church to help stop an Irish terrorist. The only people who agree with him are Protestants after all; the show handles the denominations mostly through implication, though Rebecca Rigg’s single salient contribution is to encourage Caruso to break the priest not the Church. There’s a scene where Church lawyer Robin Gammell confronts Caruso and for a second I thought it might actually be interesting but then it’s just Gammell shaming on him.

Caruso’s character arc—realizing, oh wait, maybe this Catholic Church thing is a problem, wait, maybe sincerely held religious beliefs aren’t a real thing, wait, it’s time to take my nephew to church—is… lackluster. Though maybe not in the nineties. “Michael Hayes” was CBS after all. But, yes, the juxtapose with all the Church stuff is nephew Jimmy Galeota prepping for his first communion—Caruso’s apparently so super Catholic he sequesters Galeota for his lessons (or Mary B. Ward wanted to audition for a better part in something else)—and some montages of pensive Caruso with Roman Catholic paraphernalia. Caruso’s good, but it’s all a trope.

There also seems to be some tension in the direction of the show. Demoted show creator John Romano shares the writing credit with Michael Harbert and seems to be trying to “right the wrongs” of Paul Haggis’s show running. Romano apparently really wants Caruso to have a romance with an investigator, introducing pointless but fetching FBI agent Kelly Rowan, who hangs on his every word while Caruso just tries to get out of the scene like it’s his last day on “NYPD Blue.” Caruso doesn’t even bother with the professionalism he exhibited in the pilot with now dead girlfriend Dina Meyer. Though the script’s so packed with one-liners and throwaway scenes, it’s no wonder he’s rushed.

Romano and Harbert also can’t get a good part going for Ruben Santiago-Hudson here either (because Rowan’s got his job) and he can’t hack it; it’s not Santiago-Hudson’s worst performance, but it’s not his best either and he’s now on a sharp downward trend.

Galeota’s cloying, that kind of child actor where they say cut and print when the kid can get through the dialogue, not act.

There’s also some male projection with Susan Traylor’s nun, who was always hot for Caruso’s bod when they were kids and is willing to talk horny as a nun so he knows it. It’s weird. And Caruso’s got no chemistry with her either, so it’s pointless too.

I’d really like to not dread Romano’s name in the writer credits, but I’m not sure he’ll ever give me reason to not.

Though it was cool to see Onorati and Caruso together, even if Onorati’s part is thin and Caruso’s is incomplete; both are quite good considering the constraints.

Frasier (1993) s04e10 – Liar! Liar!

It’s a Seabees episode, but only sort of and only at the beginning (the Seabees are the annual radio awards on “Frasier” and there’s always an episode). Always with conditions, however, as the episode opens in the apartment at Kelsey Grammer’s Seabees after party, where the regular cast is doing their best to get the extras out so the story can start. The only winner at the awards was Dan Butler, who annoys everyone with his bragging, and there’s a great sequence with Peri Gilpin getting him out of the apartment under false pretenses. The episode’s going to be about lying, specifically the consequences of it. Though there’s going to be a lot of privilege in play and how sometimes that privilege can get you out of consequences.

Seriously, white men avoiding responsibility for their actions in an amusing way is basically the most standard sitcom trope.

Turns out when they were kids, Grammer and David Hyde Pierce pulled the fire alarm at their prep school and dad John Mahoney defended them as not being liars. They were, in fact, liars. And utterly indifferent to their lie getting another kid expelled. The other kid bullied them—even being established as the primary culprit in Hyde Pierce’s infamous, previously established flag-pole hanging—so Hyde Pierce feels no guilt while Grammer just has to know how the kid’s life went.

Turns out it did not pass go and went straight to jail , which is where Grammer goes to meet the grown-up kid, now an intimidating adult played by Saul Stein. Thanks to Grammer’s prodding, Stein’s able to identify the most salient point in his juvenile delinquency as it relates to long term effects—back when he was kicked out of a prep school where he could’ve gotten out of his working class situation and excelled as a productive white collar member of society. Grammer feels bad he’s given Stein so much self-awareness, so he sets out to right Stein’s rocky relationship with his wife, Carlene Watkins.

Little does Grammer know Watkins is a sex addict who needs the danger and nothing’s more dangerous than Stein potentially killing her partners during coitus.

As they do, complications ensue, and manage to get Grammer to the finish without actually having to learn any real lessons or to make writers Chuck Ranberg and Anne Flett-Giordano—who write a very funny script (one caveat in a moment)—figure out if there’s a moral. Given Mahoney’s the moral authority in the episode, some kind of resolution with him would help but he’s out. After his initial outrage, he instead joins the Hyde Pierce and Jane Leeves subplot, which has Hyde Pierce hurting his back (adjusting his Mercedes’s seat) and Leeves applying an icy then very hot liniment to make him feel better. Mahoney hates the stuff, Hyde Pierce has to appear tough. Lots and lots of great physical comedy from Hyde Pierce and decent material for Leeves and Mahoney, but it definitely doesn’t do anything for Mahoney’s pseudo-arc.

The aforementioned iffy bit is a “too early to actually be hurtfully transphobic” joke but it’s iffy because it’s also slightly misogynist in addition to be mired in toxic masculinity. It’s a way easier joke than Ranberg and Flett-Giordano’s other easy jokes in the episode and they seem to realize it’s a dead-end because it too doesn’t get the natural resolution. Though the natural resolution would’ve definitely been hurtfully transphobic?

It’s a solid episode, with a lot of potential—Watkins and Stein are excellent guest stars (look, two in the same episode again)—but the end is a definite cop out.

Also, the question of why does Frasier Crane have a lighter is possibly more profound than why does God need a starship.

Frasier (1993) s04e09 – Dad Loves Sherry, the Boys Just Whine

It’s a pretty good episode, even if most of the laughs are cheap and mean. The cheap starts right away, with Peri Gilpin getting her one scene in the episode opposite David Hyde Pierce. She’s celebrating and the punchline’s gross funny. And Hyde Pierce’s reactions to it are great. But then the episode’s done with her because it’s going to be too full, starting with returning guest star Jane Kaczmarek, who’s having coffee with Kelsey Grammer during the Gilpin and Hyde Pierce bit.

Kaczmarek was the cop who Grammer liked but she liked his ex-cop dad more; apparently she and John Mahoney have been happily—albeit unmentionably—dating since the end of last season. Only now she’s breaking it off and telling Grammer because… well, to set up the joke where Grammer tells Mahoney before Kaczmarek has a chance. Mahoney has an unexpected reaction to the bad news because he really wanted to dump her to date Marsha Mason, his bartender at—wait, is it at the bar where Mahoney met Kaczmarek. I can’t keep the bar names straight. I think it was McGinty’s—yep, it’s McGinty’s. So, um, there’s a whole other layer to the already iffy episode.

Mahoney introduces Hyde Pierce, Grammer, and Jane Leeves to Mason on his birthday; they’re all going out together. Only Mason is too “brass and flamboyant” for Grammer and Hyde Pierce so they’re miserable. Plus she makes them drink cheap champagne.

The rest of the episode is about Grammer and Hyde Pierce trying to decide whether or not to tell Mahoney they don’t like Mason, while Mahoney’s thrilled with his new romance. Once it all finally comes out, there’s a big argument scene—with the best acting easily from Mahoney, as he’s the only one where there’s any reality to the character; Grammer and Hyde Pierce are playing petulant caricatures, albeit with some appropriate details, but they’re being cruel and mean. The resolution isn’t about them being dickheads, it’s about how Mahoney’s a dickhead too—comparisons of Mason to Grammer and Hyde Pierce’s spouses—and it’s a very strange finish.

Though given the highpoint is either Gilpin with the grody celebration topic, Grammer not letting an upset Leeves have too good a whine, or some banter about Hyde Pierce’s imaginary protege—actually, wait, Grammer teasing Hyde Pierce for wetting the bed as a kid is probably a good forecast of the episode’s empathy.

There are some amusing moments—Keenan’s script is better micro than macro—and Mason’s a lot of fun, but it’s awkward to turn all your male regular cast into jerks because you can’t find better laughs.

Michael Hayes (1997) s01e04 – The Doctor’s Tale

I’d forgotten how once upon a time the evils of liberal Hollywood meant trying to warn how for-profit healthcare in the United States was a terrible thing and now we’re twenty years on and it’s even worse. It’s such a lovely combination of distressing and depressing.

This episode opens with governor’s goon Gregg Henry (who’s such a perfect sleaze ball) coming to David Caruso’s office to get him to sign off on a letter saying the corrupt healthcare company the state is going into business with isn’t corrupt. Caruso won’t sign it because he’s not corrupt, he’s the only good white guy, leading Henry to whine to Peter Outerbridge about it, which doesn’t end up giving Outerbridge anything to do in the episode because while Outerbridge isn’t a bad guy, he’s not a good guy.

Only Caruso’s a good guy; it’s a lot of weight to carry but Caruso’s really good at it. This episode’s the smoothest so far; I’d been worried about it because Peter Weller’s back directing and he tried very hard to be hip with his previous episode but seems to have figured out his 4:3 composition by this one. And Roger Neill’s music is better than it’s ever been, so much so it’s surprising. It’s delicate at times.

The Doctor in the title refers to guest star Patricia Kalember, who’s going to have to be Caruso’s star witness against the insurance company whether she or Caruso like it. Allen Garfield is the slime bag attorney for the insurance company—the difference between Henry’s sleaze ball and Garfield’s slime bag is Garfield’s got greasy hair and a ponytail you wish Caruso would’ve cut off after their showdown—and he’s going to ruin Kalember’s life and Caruso’s case. Kalember tried to get some tests done, the insurance company denied them, little boy is now dying faster from leukemia. There’s actually a lot of character development for Caruso in the episode as he finds further resolve—he thought he could just wing it on his Irish male pride (this episode’s the first time they mention the Irish… impressive patience)—but the show can’t quite address it.

Garfield’s media takedown of Kalember only works because of sexism and misogyny and it only works on Caruso because of sexism and misogyny, so when he gets through it—because “Hayes” is a show written by dudes in the nineties—it hinges on a revelation about Kalember’s character. Her character’s character. They emphasize it as a “eureka” moment—desperate even with the best acting—but do at least give Caruso a good solo contemplation scene to work his way through it. More problematic is probably Rebecca Rigg’s embrace of the takedown, though there’s nothing like realizing she couldn’t just be super smart, she also had to be super smart and wear short skirts.

Rigg is the best lawyer at the U.S. Attorney’s office, something Philip Baker Hall (who’s got one scene to manipulatively inspire Caruso against the blue bloods) didn’t appreciate. This episode is Caruso and Rigg trying to work out the case, Caruso and Kalember not bonding but being stuck in the life raft together, and everyone else is background. Hillary Danner helps with the case but not significantly, Ruben Santiago-Hudson interviews a witness and tells a couple jokes (somewhat problematically since it’s a demotion—Santiago-Hudson’s much better with this material), and Mary B. Ward shows up for a single scene—in an apartment instead of the established house they’d been living in—to pretend the family plot line is essential. They even rush the talk about Ward’s terrible marriage to Caruso’s good for nothing brother.

Yet, even with Kalember being good with a “good for a guest star on a primetime drama” asterisk, it’s the best episode yet. There’s a really good balance between the lawyer stuff and emphasizing the actors—Caruso, Rigg, and Kalember—and it works. Weller having a better handle on his composition helps immensely.

I can’t decide if it’d be better or worse if they finally just let Caruso punch out one of the blue blood crooks instead of just silently judging them. Again, Caruso’s good at the righteous judgement and “Michael Hayes” does have enough tone problems already so maybe it’s time to trust Paul Haggis.

Never thought I’d type those words again. But it’s getting to where—with the nineties primetime drama asterisk—“Michael Hayes” is good.

Michael Hayes (1997) s01e03 – True Blue

So, given the episode uses footage from the pilot—the pilot, not the “Prequel” episode they made after they brought on Paul Haggis to save the show, but the original, Haggis-less pilot—to kill off Dina Meyer, who was in stable condition after being shot last episode… it makes sense she’d be less than interested in coming back in that pilot do-over. Even though it turns out she and David Caruso were dating long enough for him to be her sole beneficiary on her life insurance—also, holy crap, it’s a Robert Musgrave cameo because someone on “Michael Hayes” loved Bottle Rocket, or so I’m telling myself.

Caruso spends the episode sad about Meyer’s death and talking around it with various cast members because he’s a soulful white man but he’s a man and he’s just going to stare off into space and then leave the room whenever anyone asks if he’s feeling okay. Caruso’s really good at it. He’s excellent the entire episode—a nice change from last time—even during expository dumps (so long as you can embrace the righteous white male savior) and the rest of the cast does a good job keeping pace. Except Ruben Santiago-Hudson, whose single expression is really getting in the way of his performance. Santiago-Hudson gets looped even when he really shouldn’t, like when wife Tembi Locke explains he can’t turn in dirty cop Julio Oscar Mechoso because Mechoso’s got a wife and three kids (just like they do).

We’ve already heard from the New York District Attorney Stanley Anderson (sadly not a visible Rudy analog) you can’t go after dirty cops because then all of the cases they perjured themselves in will get overturned and an occasional criminal will go free with all the people they framed and then what’ll you do; the episode does an excellent job laying out the nonsense excuses for police corruption, which is just the cops just robbing people—including stores—not murdering or raping anyone because even “liberal” Hollywood didn’t realize how it was always the worst.

The episode’s about Caruso having to take down a dirty precinct because D.A. Anderson too chummy with assistant police commissioner Dan Lauria to do anything about police corruption. While Lauria’s a fine cameo, the episode neglects to acknowledge they killed off the actual police commissioner last episode, who was also entirely corrupt so maybe the problem doesn’t start at the bottom. Former cop now U.S. Attorney investigator Santiago-Hudson goes to pal Mechoso for help, only to soon find out Mechoso’s not being truthful about his lack of involvement. Meanwhile, Caruso’s got to break the case while mourning for Meyer and dealing with his family troubles. Recently released ex-con brother David Cubitt still hasn’t gone to see wife Mary B. Ward or son Jimmy Galeota; Ward shows up at Caruso’s doorstep, expecting Cubitt to be there too (Cubitt’s crashing at Caruso’s apartment, which is far less ginormous than in the pilot episode). Only Cubitt’s not so she and Caruso hang out, going from water to wine to ginger ale.

Ward’s good this episode. She’s been shaky before and the character’s not great (Caruso’s back to telling her to take Cubitt back, after telling her to dump him in the pilot, but telling her to take him back in the pre-pilot, clearly Haggis is Team Take Back), but she and Caruso’s scenes are very well-acted, very well-timed. And episode director Fred Gerber gets how to shoot the actors to emphasize their performances, especially Caruso, who’s very restrained chewy. Chew the scenery with your mouth closed, David. It works out quite well and this episode’s easily the series best.

Not to say they should’ve made it the pilot but… who knows. Maybe.

Mechoso’s only okay as the cop. He ought to be better. But he does try. It doesn’t help Santiago-Hudson’s so flat in their scenes together.

Rebecca Rigg shows up for a scene to make jokes about sex workers with other female lawyer Hillary Danner—I’d forgotten nineties male-written feminism—she’s good in the scene but disappears once they decide the best way to crack the cast is toxic masculinity. Danner gets to do all of the legal work in the episode, spending all of it sitting in a conference room by herself. Not the best use of the only two workplace female regular (sorry, special guest stars because SAG chicanery), especially since Jodi Long gets a bunch of good material. She’s Caruso’s new assistant; she came with the promotion and quickly tires of his anti-blue blood decorating complaints.

There’s a very peculiar postscript bookend with the Meyer storyline—oh, that reused footage doesn’t have her talking so they don’t even credit her (because then they’d have to pay her)—giving the episode a nice, odd close, and some impromptu character development for Caruso.

It’s a little bumpy, but it’s a solid episode with some outstanding acting from Caruso.

Michael Hayes (1997) s01e02

It makes sense they did another episode to run as the first episode instead of this pilot. What doesn’t make sense is CBS green-lighting the series based on this pilot episode. It’s also interesting to see who they got to come back for the previous episode after they clearly didn’t work out in the pilot; Sam Coppola as star David Caruso’s cop mentor has a surprise twist here, so maybe it was good to bring him in before… but they really could’ve used Dina Meyer. She’s an investigator at the U.S. Attorney’s office and has been dating Caruso for long enough other investigator Ruben Santiago-Hudson teases him about it them talking flirty over the radio, but apparently she was out of town two weeks before in the first episode.

I wasn’t sure what I was expecting from the pilot—I’d forgotten the hook of the show is former cop Caruso becomes acting U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York and not just former cop Caruso becomes a deputy U.S. Attorney or whatever—but they really try to cram it all in here. The episode opens with a mob hit (so did the previous episode, sort of) and then we get Caruso meeting with dead guy’s attorney Donna Murphy, Meyer, and Philip Baker Hall. Hall takes Murphy’s car, which goes boom—leading to Caruso saving Hall from the burning car while a line of cops stand around and do nothing (again, it’s pre-9/11). Eventually Caruso gets the job, which would presumably cause some problems for Meyer, who doesn’t sleep with bosses. If only they can think of a way to exit her from the show while being low-key misogynist about it.

Caruso’s not initially on Murphy’s case because he’s busy getting Joe Grifasi in trouble. The episode’s got a handful of solid character actor guest stars—Murphy, Grifasi, Josef Sommer—and it’s scary to think how the show would play if it weren’t them. Tom Amandes is on as another deputy U.S. Attorney whose job it is to tell Caruso he’s going too far with the working class hero takes on the blue bloods stuff (Peter Outerbridge has a filler scene, presumably shot after they decided they needed him—or Amandes found steadier work). None of the previously mentioned guest stars appear on the IMDb page, apparently because none of their agents think anyone would care they were once on “Michael Hayes.”

Anyway.

Wouldn’t you know Grifasi’s case is going to end up having to do with Murphy’s case, but then it’s going to turn out there’s an even simpler explanation to it all so they can do a bad sirens-on cop car sequence and giving Caruso—at the time the acting U.S. Attorney—a burner handgun so he can be macho.

Along the way we get some more with Caruso’s family problems—nephew Jimmy Galeota needs recently released ex-con dad David Cubitt (credited as a guest star, which makes you wonder what’s going to happen to him in the series) to pay him some attention while the relationship between Caruso and suffering sister-in-law Mary B. Ward is different than in the previous episode. Especially since last time Caruso was trying to convince her to take Cubitt, hashtag family values, while this time he’s telling her to stay away from his deadbeat brother.

John Romano’s teleplay is fairly bad—the show has Romano and Nicholas Pileggi as creators but Pileggi doesn’t have a writing credit, just a story one, which is telling. Thomas Carter’s direction is fairly good for a nineties TV show (it’s interesting to be able to compare to the previous but subsequent episode just for Carter’s ability to compose for 4:3).

Maybe ten percent of Caruso’s performance is good and better. Most of it’s middling. Some of it’s “CSI: Miami.” All of the bad is Romano’s fault. He writes rather trite dialogue. The most important performance ends up being Mary Lou Rosato as Coppola’s wife and she doesn’t even get a credit in the opening titles.

Grifasi’s the biggest disappointment; not even he can accomplish Romano’s script. He’s only in it for a scene and doesn’t have the weird baked-in misogyny Murphy ends up with. She’s fine, just wasted. I was hoping for more obviously because what kind of shit stain wastes Donna Murphy.

I have no idea what to expect from “Michael Hayes” going forward, which must’ve done wonders for it back during original airings when you had a whole week to decide if you wanted to come back.