Werewolf by Night (2022, Michael Giacchino)

It’s not going to seem like it in a few paragraphs, but I am a fan of director Giacchino. Or, more accurately, I am a fan of Giacchino’s directing. Werewolf by Night is easily the most interesting MCU project in the brand’s fourteen years. Most of the credit goes to director Giacchino, who does a phenomenal job directing and… a better-than-expected job scoring.

The music’s good enough I didn’t think it was Giacchino, until I realized it was just lifting from Bram Stoker’s Dracula. Still, impressive. Most impressive when adjusted for Giacchino’s scale.

As a composer, Giacchino does forgettable variations on John Williams themes, the immediately forgettable, entirely perfunctory MCU scores, and bad Star Trek music. Is he the most prolific of his similar blockbuster bland colleagues? Not worth looking up. He’s not even one of the better ones.

But, damn, does he love movies and know how to make them. Or at least one. Technically, of course, it’s a “Marvel Studios Special Presentation.” Think a longer “Charlie Brown” special. It runs approximately forty-five minutes, plus minus all the translating credits (sadly, no credits scenes, either), so they’re not calling it the first Disney+ movie. It’s not even the longest Marvel episode. It’s just… a special. And very special.

Night opens with narration explaining we’ve veered into the dark side of the Marvel Universe—the Dark Universe, as it were, or Avengers Dark. In forty-five minutes, the MCU loops Universal’s monsters movie reboot dreams and the Warner Bros. JLA Dark dreams, which they gave up on, more times than it takes Superman to go around the Earth to turn back time.

A group of monster hunters is getting together; see, thanks to “Witcher,” they can just say monster hunters. The monster-hunting patriarch has died, and the anonymous hunters are vying for the mantle; if they win, they get the Bloodstone and possibly an appearance in a Captain America movie. Bloodstone was a Captain America thing in the eighties.

There are six hunters, all unknown to one another. Laura Donnelly plays the only one not anonymous. She’s the patriarch’s estranged daughter. Harriet Sansom Harris is the widowed evil stepmother.

Harris makes the first act of Werewolf. She’s hilarious and scary, especially once the corpse puppet gimmicks get started, which must be seen versus described.

Gael García Bernal plays the lead, one of the monster hunters, but he’s got a different reason for being there and a secret all his own. He and Donnelly become allies as the other monster hunters hunt one another and their prize, a mysterious beast in a labyrinth-type hunting ground. They also get a couple great character moments together.

In addition to Giacchino’s direction, all the technicals are outstanding, particularly Maya Shimoguchi’s Art Deco production design. Zoë White’s (mostly) black and white photography captures it beautifully, especially the blacks and whites.

The special’s got numerous secret weapons, starting with the monster they’re hunting, but Donnelly quickly becomes invaluable. Since Bernal’s hiding things from the audience and everyone else, Donnelly gets to be de facto protagonist for a bit. It works out.

Werewolf by Night’s a great first outing for the MCU’s “Special Presentations,” but it’s exceptional work from Giacchino. Maybe he should give up his day job and focus on his strengths.

Frasier (1993) s05e12 – The Zoo Story

It’s a Bebe (Harriet Sansom Harris) episode, even though Kelsey Grammer fired Harris last time she was on—last season. But it’s only sort of a Bebe episode; she’s still Peri Gilpin’s agent (maybe the biggest offscreen character continuity detail the show’s had to date, actually) and she wants Grammer back as a client, but Grammer’s still angry Harris is a soulless agent. Instead, with station negotiations looming, he’s going to find a nice guy agent.

Even though everyone, including John Mahoney (who simultaneously shouldn’t have a valid opinion on the subject but is also really funny in the scene), tells him it’s impossible to find a good nice guy agent. Grammer finds one–Robert Stanton—who spends most of his time volunteering around town, not being a cutthroat advocate for his clients. But he’s wholesome and Grammer wants it to work out.

Even though everything Stanton comes up with ends in disaster—to be fair, however, Mahoney does aggravate at least one of the disasters, rather comedically—and Grammer has to weigh his morals against success with Harris and potential ruin with Stanton. Complicating things are the disasters having public ramifications for Grammer, making him Seattle’s laughing stock, something David Hyde Pierce revels in.

Hyde Pierce’s subplot has him in martial counseling troubles with estranged wife Maris, who wants him to fire their latest counselor and is withholding their weekly naughty time until he does so. Grammer convinces Hyde Pierce to take the high road and stand his moral ground, leading to some very funny lustful Hyde Pierce moments.

Most of the episode’s entirely solid and often very funny—good script, credited to Joe Keenan, and decent direction from Pamela Fryman—but the conclusion’s incredibly rocky because Fryman doesn’t seem to know how to direct Harris. Or doesn’t know how to compose shots when Harris is in a scene? It’s a very strange disconnect and rather unfortunate.

Good guest performances from Harris (not quite the usual showstopper or showcase) and Stanton. Hyde Pierce is the regular cast standout. Mahoney’s got some good material, Jane Leeves has a funny subplot about stanning a news anchor; Grammer’s the straight man throughout.

Its parts are better than the whole, but the whole’s all right.

Frasier (1993) s04e17 – Roz’s Turn

I’m still waiting for the great Roz episode for Peri Gilpin. It’s actually her second one in the last handful of episodes but, just like before, she gets upstaged by a guest star. This time it’s going to be it’s going to be Harriet Sansom Harris as agent-from-Hell Bebe Glazer and not the voice of Darth Vader.

Harris shows up in the second half of the episode, throwing a wrench in Gilpin’s plans to apply for to do her own show—with Kelsey Grammer’s full support—and while the episode still manages to give Gilpin a lot to do… it’s as support for Grammer. It’s a deft move (Jeff Keenan gets the writing credit) and it leverages the heck out of Harris (who once again I’m shocked didn’t ever get an Emmy for this part). But it still takes episode away from Gilpin, who gets a lot to do until she all of a sudden doesn’t. But, that initial takeaway is to showcase Jane Leeves and John Mahoney doing things they don’t usually get to do—and giving David Hyde Pierce a chance to play so horny he could die (while maintaining decorum)—but it’s still a downgrade.

The cast is helping Gilpin prepare her demo tape—a call-in show without being boring like Grammer’s, basically—and so everyone gets to do a persona. Mahoney’s a Casanova, Leeves is a vixen. It’s all really good showcasing. Keenan’s got funny stuff. It just doesn’t have a good narrative flow. Because once Harris shows up, nothing can compete. The material isn’t even the best, the delivery’s what matters and Harris is great.

We even get to see what Harris’s office looks like (her machinations end up being the A plot, more than anything stemming from Gilpin’s audio tape).

It just would’ve been nice if the episode had tried a little harder and didn’t just rely the cast being able to make the material sparkle. There have been easy episodes before, but this one just seems a little bit too easy. Like Keenan (and the room, obviously) did a fine job plotting, just not refining. If everything in the front half is just going to be prologue to a Harris tour-de-force, maybe don’t have it be one where the gags are all relying a little too often on silly absurdity. Again, Harris is awesome—and everyone’s good, with the great Mahoney and Leeves spotlights (and Hyde Pierce)—but it’s a little too self-satisfied.

Some great one-liners though. Just awesome. It’s a mixed bag with a lot of good candies.

Frasier (1993) s03e21 – Where There’s Smoke There’s Fired

It’s time for the seasonal Bebe (Harriet Sansom Harris) episode and it’s another fantastic one. I keep looking at Harris’ IMDb page because her never winning an Emmy for this part has got to be a mistake. She wasn’t even nominated, yet she’s so good.

But we don’t know right off Harris is going to figure in; the episode starts with David Hyde Pierce struggling to get a loan for a new antique footstool. He’s struggling to live without separated wife Maris’s money; it’s going to be the closest thing the episode gets to a main subplot—I guess if it’s the B plot, there’s a great, tiny C plot involving the other radio personalities at the station. Hyde Pierce is eventually going to join a warehouse club, which is leads to a really funny moment.

The main plot starts with Peri Gilpin arriving at the apartment—leading to some great banter between her and Hyde Pierce—to tell Kesley Grammer the scoop on the radio station’s new owner, a Texan named Big Willy (Richard Hamilton in a perfect little part). Grammer and Gilpin want to ingratiate themselves as much as possible because Hamilton’s all about syndicating shows. If only Grammer could get ahold of Harris, but she’s mysteriously unavailable.

Because she’s busy being engaged to Hamilton, which comes as a great punchline after they set up Hamilton wanting Grammer to cure his new fiancée of her smoking in three days time. Syndication hangs in the balance so how can Grammer refuse.

The second half of the episode is all of Grammer’s efforts to get Harris to give up the smokes over the three days; they’re sequestered at the apartment, so Harris gets to interact with the entire supporting cast (well, except Gilpin, unfortunately). But there’s great stuff for Harris and Jane Leeves, while John Mahoney sort of gets to solo his gags. They’re great, but they’re separate. Hyde Pierce meanwhile sort of bonds with fellow marry-upper Harris.

The episode—written by Joe Keenan, who wrote Harris’s last episode—spotlights her performance. She gets a show-stopper monologue about cigarettes, then an excellent physical comedy sequence (good direction from Philip Charles MacKenzie); it’s her episode. Though Grammer does get an eventual killer monologue of his own; it’s still not as good as Harris’s.

It’s an awesome episode. Harris is a wonder.

Just hope someone fixes her IMDb before next season’s Bebe episode.

Frasier (1993) s01e18 – And the Whimper Is…

“Frasier,” the show, has made a few references to the popularity of “The Frasier Crane Show,” the in-show radio program Kelsey Grammer hosts. At one point it seemed to be on the ropes, with Grammer and producer Peri Gilpin worrying they’d get cancelled, then it was getting better ratings than the sports show… but its popularity has never been explicitly described. But it’s got to be doing well because this episode has it one of four nominees for prestigious category at the SeaBee Awards (fictional radio awards).

It’s Grammer’s first year with a show. It’s Gilpin’s tenth year in the business without even a nomination. They’re hungry to win. The episode—written by Sy Dukane and Denise Moss—tracks them from pre-nomination, when Grammer’s pretending he doesn’t care and Gilpin’s driven to distraction waiting for the nominations to release, to preparation, when they’re planning how to bribe the nominating committee while John Mahoney watches in disgust, to the awards show, where they discover they may have been too successful in their bribing, about to take the award away from retiring Seattle radio mainstay John McMartin.

The episode finally gives Gilpin some time around the regular cast—she and Mahoney joyfully greet each other when she arrives at the apartment, even though they’ve only had one other scene together—and Gilpin gets to pal around with Jane Leeves. Harriet Sansom Harris guest stars as Frasier’s agent, Bebe, who invites herself along to the awards show (though doesn’t do much there except have some great reaction shots when Gilpin eventually melts down under stress) and Patrick Kerr’s back as annoying station co-worker Noel, who’s Gilpin’s date for the evening. Kerr does all right considering he’s just a punchline.

David Hyde Pierce has this great running joke about always getting someone a beverage, out of his element with the show business types, not able to find anyone interested in his hilariously withering remarks at Grammer’s expense.

It’s a very busy episode with a lot of people around most of the time and director James Burrows makes sure they’re interesting even when they’re not talking (you can perfectly track how things are going from Mahoney’s expressions in the background), with Gilpin and Grammer being the centers of attention.

It’s very good. Though the self-aware Maris joke may be too self-aware.

Frasier (1993) s01e09 – Selling Out

Selling Out is a Kelsey Grammer episode overall—Frasier gets into the lucrative world of on air endorsing and finds himself tempted further and further way from his professional ethics as a psychiatrist—but it’s Harriet Sansom Harris who makes it so special. The Grammer stuff would be funny no matter what, as his behavior gets more and more absurd (not to mention Grammer’s voice being so perfect for the on air schilling), but Harris is a revelation. She’s Frasier’s new agent, Bebe Glazer. She talks him into representation (she’s fellow radio personality Dan Butler’s agent already), kicking off Grammer’s descent, and she’s the devil on his shoulder.

Harris kind of does a Katharine Hepburn thing, but with a whole bunch of energy. It’s like Katharine Hepburn playing Wile E. Coyote playing Katharine Hepburn. The Harris manipulating Grammer scenes are absolute gold. This episode, scripted by Lloyd Garver, might be the funniest episode so far. There are a lot of big, long laughs in it, which doesn’t seem like it’s going to be the case at the beginning, when Butler gives a super-racist read of a Chinese restaurant ad. The joke is Butler’s a terrible racist and to laugh at him, but it’s… ick. Though the discussion of whether public racism is more or less accepted in 1993 or 2020 is a depressing one.

But once Harris shows up, the laughs start and they don’t stop. Garver’s got them for Grammer, he’s got them for Harris, he’s got them for Peri Gilpin, for Jane Leeves (who gets a great monologue about her time as a tween TV star in the UK), John Mahoney—David Hyde Pierce doesn’t show up until the very end of the episode and he’s there to cut Grammer down to size regarding his professional ethics. Grammer has spent the entire episode working himself through hoops to make it not unethical to shill on his radio show, with the breaking point being Harris lining him up a TV gig, and he runs to Hyde Pierce for a sounding board.

Hyde Pierce’s scene is phenomenal stuff. With a Maris joke—related to Basic Instinct of all things—getting the visible longest laugh in the episode because Grammer’s got to sit and wait through the audience before his next line.

It’s a fantastic episode, minus the Butler ad read. Celebrity caller is Carl Reiner, who has a boring story for the show and Grammer gets in a funny diss when hanging out… which also raises a question about professional ethics, I suppose. Anyway. Truly great episode, thanks to Garver’s script but more Harris’s Bebe. She’s incredible.