Frasier (1993) s07e17 – Whine Club

Whine Club is half a regular “Frasier” episode, half a “mythology” episode, meaning working on the season’s low-burning arc about Niles (David Hyde Pierce) and Daphne (Jane Leeves) getting serious about other people when they should (?) be getting serious about each other. It’s also got an excellent subplot for John Mahoney where he and his friend’s widow, played by a wonderful Anita Gillette, enjoy commitment-free naughty sexy-time in their sixties or whatever. And it’s directed by Kelsey Grammer, who usually does more auspicious episodes.

It all might be okay if it weren’t entirely about villainizing Hyde Pierce’s new girlfriend, Jane Adams. She comes over for brunch, and everyone hates her. Will they or won’t they tell Hyde Pierce fills the last five or six minutes, comedy of errors-style. Except, as the episode points out earlier, everyone hated Hyde Pierce’s always-unseen ex-wife Maris, so it’s no surprise they don’t like the new girlfriend. Since we’re seven seasons in and Hyde Pierce’s marital problems subplot started in season three, I can’t remember if there was ever a period when everyone didn’t make fun of Maris (with Hyde Pierce around).

The whole point of the episode is to show how wrong Adams is for Hyde Pierce, what with Leeves right there and almost out of reach again because she’s getting married, but it just comes off as shitty to Adams. We get it; she’s a harpy. Mahoney reminds Grammer everyone hates all he and Hyde Pierce’s romantic partners (they don’t bring up Shelley Long, but Mahoney hated her too). Grammer and Hyde Pierce hated Mahoney’s steady girlfriend, played by Marsha Mason (who the show didn’t like for being working class). Way to remind the show’s got lousy parts for women.

The writing credit goes to executive story editor Bob Daily (his first scripting credit on the show) and Jon Sherman (his second). It feels like two episodes smooshed together because there’s actually not any whining in the brunch section. Unless you count Peri Gilpin complaining Grammer roped her into a brunch from hell. Grammer planned it before he and Hyde Pierce got into a fight about their wine club, which only takes up seven minutes of the episode (and feels like the non-mythology part of the show).

Anthony Head guest stars during the wine club scene. He’s great. It’s a shame it’s just the one scene.

There’s some hilarious stuff in the episode—drunk Leeves is a standout—but it’d be a lot better if it weren’t so craven.

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.

Wonder Boys (2000, Curtis Hanson)

Wonder Boys has a very messy third act. The film takes place over a weekend, Friday afternoon to Sunday afternoon; it’s the annual writers conference at an unnamed Pittsburgh university, which kicks off some of the film’s events, lines up some other ones, but is really just an excuse for exposition. It’s fine—it’s great exposition—but it’s somewhat redundant because lead Michael Douglas narrates the whole movie anyway. The film’s about how and why Douglas ends up playing hooky from the conference, even though it’s never clear how involved he was supposed to be. Douglas’s professionalism, which is at least seems ostensible at the beginning of the film, slowly evaporates as events start getting… weird.

Unfortunately the first thing to get weird is super-cringey. The film’s from 2000 and it doesn’t think it’s being transphobic and it actually gets somewhere very interesting with the subplot, but… it’s super-cringey. And kind of makes the three generations of Wonder Boys—Douglas, Robert Downey Jr., Tobey Maguire—seem like dicks. It makes Downey icky when he’s supposed to be lovable.

Downey’s Douglas’s agent. They both got famous when Douglas wrote his first (and only) novel. He’s been working on his new one for seven years. It’s over two thousand pages. Maguire is one of Douglas’s students; his best student, who already has a finished novel. And is really weird. He’s not so much moody as peeking at the world from his Nietzschean hole in the ground. The film’s at its best when Douglas and Maguire are bonding. It’s at its funniest when Douglas and Downey are mugging. It’s got the most potential when Douglas is canoodling (or trying to canoodle) Frances McDormand. McDormand is the chancellor of the school. She’s married to Richard Thomas, who’s the chair of the English department and Douglas’s boss. Douglas and McDormand are in love. Douglas’s wife has left him that very morning for unrelated martial strife; McDormand just found out she’s pregnant. Maguire might be suicidal (the movie drops this one hard, like it doesn’t want to take the responsibility). Downey’s about to lose his job (but doesn’t care so it’s a throwaway subplot; also he’s—unfortunately—a glorified guest star). There’s a lot going on.

Throw in stolen movie memorabilia, a blind dog, Katie Holmes as Douglas’s student and lodger who thinks she understands her grandpa-aged crush, and a stolen car. Not to mention Douglas’s unseen wife, who hangs over the narrative but has absolutely no presence. It’s impossible to imagine Douglas married, not to mention anyone else living in his de facto flophouse. Beautifully designed de facto flophouse, but flophouse nonetheless. So the ethereal wife is a problem. And Holmes is a problem. She’s trying to make time with Douglas and he’s aware but completely disinterested. He likes women closer to his own age—McDormand’s only thirteen years younger versus Holmes’s thirty-four. Presumably the phantom wife is somewhere in middle. But Holmes, who either gets to be really insightful or really thin—she’s flirting with Rip Torn, who’s—you know—forty-some years older—never seems to realize Douglas isn’t into her that way. He’s not into her any way. It’s hard to believe they live in the same house.

The film doesn’t exactly have plot holes, it just often has soft plot details. Director Hanson and screenwriter Steve Kloves gloss over things they shouldn’t, then somehow lose track of what the film’s supposed to be doing. During the second act, it falls completely in love with the supporting cast—Maguire in particular, which is fine and dandy because Maguire’s great—but then it chucks him in the third act to bring Downey back in. Okay, Downey’s really good, really fun (not great because he doesn’t have the part), but… wasn’t Maguire supposed to be important. Then it turns out Downey’s not important. What’s important is something the film’s had the opportunity to focus on and hasn’t. Intentionally avoided it, actually, which maybe is supposed to be a metaphor for pot-addled Douglas’s indecision—the film’s also got some really dated pot politics—but it’s a miss. Douglas is phenomenal and a great protagonist, but his narration doesn’t add anything to the film. The occasional smile, the tiniest bit of context for some exposition or another, but there’s never anything important in it.

Especially not after Douglas loses his agency in the third act.

But the script’s still good. It’s a complete mess, plotting-wise, but the scenes are great. The pacing is great. And Hanson knows how he wants to shoot the conversations. There’s a lot of beautiful direction, with outstanding photography from Dante Spinotti. Cool but warm photography, intense but natural. It’s a great looking film. Dede Allen’s editing is great, especially since Hanson’s composing these wide Panavision shots and the cuts between angles ought to be jarring. They’re not. They’re perfectly timed. Sublimely timed. Solid music from Christopher Young, mostly emphasis stuff. There’s a great soundtrack for the film, including an original Bob Dylan song. Though it’s hard to imagine any of the Wonder Boys listening to Bob Dylan.

Going through the acting again. Douglas and Maguire are phenomenal. McDormand’s great. Downey’s good. Rip Torn’s fun. Holmes gets a crap part. Richard Thomas gets cast way too perfectly as a cuckold.

Wonder Boys is, problems and all, outstanding. It’s just frustratingly close to exceptional and when Hanson and Kloves so completely bungle the third act… it takes some real damage. But it’s still outstanding though. And Douglas and Maguire’s performances are exceptional… the parts just don’t end up being so.

Batman and Robin (1949, Spencer Gordon Bennet)

Batman and Robin is fifteen chapters; all together, it’s just under four and a half hours. It is not a rewarding four and a half hours. Not at all.

Of the fourteen credited actors, one gives a good performance. Don C. Harvey. He gets to be chief henchman for a while. But not even half of the serial. After Harvey, uncredited Lee Roberts becomes chief henchman; Roberts is terrible. Though he’s less awful once he becomes lab assistant to the mysterious, masked serial villain, The Wizard. The Wizard is stealing technology to remote control moving objects and, eventually, turn himself invisible. The invisible thing is a lot more amusing. Shame it’s only in the last few chapters.

Besides Harvey, the best performances are from George Offerman Jr. and Eric Wilton, both uncredited. They both have rather significant parts–Offerman is leading lady (and literally only lady in Batman and Robin) Jane Adams’s good-for-nothing crook brother while Wilton is faithful butler Alfred. Wilton gets some decent comic relief, Offerman actually has subtext in his performance; they’re all-stars in Batman and Robin.

Because besides those three, the acting in the serial is quite bad. Leads Lowery and Duncan are terrible. The perverse thrill of watching Lowery try to steal scenes while he’s in costume–chirping the thin, exposition-heavy dialogue–runs out somewhere around the halfway point. It’s a very, very, very long fifteen chapters. Most of the chapters’ “plots” relate to the Wizard and his gang wanting to steal something and Lowery and Duncan trying to stop them or something involving discovering the Wizard’s identity. Lowery and Duncan always screw something up–or just get beat up–and then Lowery bosses everyone around like he shouldn’t have egg on his face.

When Lowery’s not in costume, he’s much worse. For a while, Lowery–as Bruce Wayne, millionaire playboy and fop–is advising police commissioner Lyle Tablot (who’s usually tolerable) on important matters. Most of these scenes happen in the first half of the serial, when Adams is still in it more regularly; she spends most of her scenes complaining about Lowery being such a lazy good-for-nothing. Who apparently is a police consultant, which she never notices. Because her character is terribly written. As her brother, Offerman gets more to do–unbilled and in a handful of chapters–than Adams ever does. It’s not like there’s any chemistry between Adams and Lowery. He seems stuck up and she seems to loathe him.

Duncan probably ought to loathe Lowery too since Duncan basically just spends his days in the Batcave trying to science things but being too stupid and having to wait for Lowery. But Lowery’s too busy teasing Adams about something. Batman and Robin’s first chapter does most of the Batman setup–the Batcave, stately Wayne Manor (or just a suburban house), the Batmobile (Lowery and Duncan just drive around Bruce Wayne’s car, telling people they have permission). It starts dumb. It starts a train wreck. Then it just keeps going and going and going and going.

When Harvey’s still lead thug, there’s a certain fun to the serial. The bad guys all walk around in sync; it’s visually amusing. Of course, they’re usually walking around the same handful of locations–Batman and Robin has at least two lengthy chase sequences in the same office building hallway sets, maybe three. But Harvey makes it seem fun.

Since it’s a serial with a masked, mysterious villain, there are a bunch of suspects. There’s radio newscaster Rick Vallin. He broadcasts out of his living room, presumably in a house down the street from Batman’s. Michael Whalen is a private investigator who never really figures in but the script talks about all the time for a few chapters. William Fawcett’s mad scientist, who’s wheelchair-bound but zaps himself in a special chair to walk. Fawcett’s the prime suspect. For most of the serial, whenever he has a scene secretly zapping himself, it cuts to the Wizard entering his cave lair. His cave lair, incidentally, is much cooler than Lowery and Duncan’s. Probably because it’s a converted suburban basement.

The serial doesn’t do much with the suspects. They’re just suspicious as needed, particularly Vallin. While Fawcett’s certainly acting suspiciously, no one ever finds out about the walking zapping, so he’s only a suspect for the audience. In fact, Fawcett’s walking is such a nonstarter the serial eventually just drops the wheelchair. Instead, Fawcett walks around with no one acknowledging a difference. It’s not even a fun stupid, it’s just stupid.

Technically, the serial doesn’t impress much. It does a little–Ira H. Morgan, so long as there’s not much action, shoots day-for-night rather well. It gives some character to the otherwise boring backlot-shot city scenes. It’s not like director Bennet brings anything to them. He’s thoroughly competent but never interested in anything. It might be contempt. Contempt for Batman and Robin is, frankly, a perfectly good excuse for not doing your job on it. Why bother.

There are some okay special effects; they usually come off better when Mischa Bakaleinikoff’s picked some good music for them. There’s no original music for Batman and Robin, but musical director Bakaleinikoff utilizes some more than adequate stock music themes. Certainly more adequate selections than the serial deserves (or needs).

The costumes are bad. Batman and Robin’s anyway. The Wizard’s costume ends up looking all right in the exterior action scenes. Not so much Batman or Robin. Sometimes Duncan has an obvious stunt double for Robin. Lowery at least has the mask, which doesn’t fit right so he’s always peering down his nose, head tilted back. Combined with the way Lowery folds his forearms (does he think bats hold things like squirrels or something), it leads to some silly visuals. Especially when Lowery tries to be authoritative. He’s not, the dialogue’s not just bad but factually ludicrous, and he looks like a jackass. He’s a bore.

But neither Lowery or Duncan are ever good. They’re terrible. Duncan’s a bad actor. Lowery’s a bad actor. Lowery’s a little more unlikable because he teases Adams whenever he gets the chance, costumed or not. It’s obnoxious. Even if Adams isn’t any good.

I’m sure Batman and Robin could be worse–I’m sure someone involved actually improved what the cast and crew were doing (I mean, probably they did)–but I can’t imagine how it could be any more boring. Somehow the chapters manage to move well–the plots are stupid but the pacing is competent–while still being exasperatingly insipid and dull.

It doesn’t help the opening titles for each chapter have Lowery and Duncan, in costume, running around in front of black backdrop and getting confused. Of course they’re confused, they’re jackasses. Each chapter starts with a threat of their inevitable stupidity.

Actually, wait, I did think of a way to improve Batman and Robin. A laugh track.

Batman and Robin (1949) ch15 – Batman Victorious

For a few minutes in Batman Victorious, which is mostly a chase sequence–the invisible (though only temporarily) Wizard is on the run from Batman and the cops. There are some questionable (but more ambitious than anything else in the serial) invisible man special effects and a more lively feel to things.

Or maybe it just feels more lively because last chapter means Batman and Robin is almost, finally over.

There’s some Batman and Robin running around outside, which is good. Robert Lowery and Johnny Duncan (unless its one of his many stand-ins) are always exuberant when they get to play outside in their costumes.

It’s a dumb reveal on the Wizard, but Batman and Robin has always been pretty dumb.

Jane Adams gets more to do than usual–including being a damsel in distress for the first time in a while. Of course, Lowery (as Batman) does leave her tied up in the driver’s seat teetering on a cliff but whatever, she’s not going to fall. She still never reacts to her brother being murdered. And William Fawcett’s walking goes unaddressed.

Lowery, elbows bent so he looks like a squirrel holding a nut (it’s so prevalent it’s almost like he thinks it’s a “bat” gesture), has an exposition dump at the end to wrap up loose threads. They make no sense. Because it’s just terrible.

But it’s finally over. Finally.

Batman and Robin (1949) ch14 – Batman vs. Wizard!

Okay, I’m not wrong–wheelchair-bound, ornery scientist William Fawcett really does just walk around in front of everyone and no one reacts. He’s been zapping himself with electricity to regain use of his legs, making him a suspect for being masked, supercriminal the Wizard. Except only to the audience because no one knows he can walk.

Except in Batman vs. Wizard!, everyone knows he can walk.

There are probably cut scenes from Batman and Robin, which is a terrifying proposition.

After Batman, Robin, and the cops chase an invisible Wizard in the opening, the chapter just concerns itself with winnowing down the Wizard suspect pool. There’s even costumed Wizard in action–after the invisibility ray wears off. The Wizard costume plays much better on screen than Batman or Robin’s costumes, which is kind of funny. Maybe if he’d been a more physically active villain, the serial would have more memorable action scenes.

The Wizard eventually threatens Lyle Talbot, leading to the good guys setting a trap but forgetting to put a man on the roof. Because they’re all idiots. The Wizard, face-covered and voice-disguised, is probably the most likable character in Batman and Robin. Sorry. Talbot’s usually fine but he starts grating here. Ditto newscaster Rick Vallin. Some of it might be the dialogue, but they’re still annoying.

The cliffhanger’s kind of fun just because it showcases the good guys’ aforementioned stupidity. Batman and Robin glamourizes crime; the only actors whose performances don’t end up unbearable are the crooks.

Batman and Robin (1949) ch13 – The Wizard’s Challenge!

If the Wizard has any challenge in The Wizard’s Challenge!, it’s outsmarting Batman and Robin. It doesn’t take much as it turns out. Especially not with Robin (Johnny Duncan) playing with a toy truck when he’s supposed to be on guard duty.

See, the Wizard has stolen all the scientific equipment he needs to unleash his master plan–he’s going to turn himself invisible and steal things, which would’ve been a far more interesting turn of events in chapter two of Batman and Robin, not chapter thirteen. Sweet, sweet chapter thirteen… only two more after this one.

The chapter has, no surprise, a tepid cliffhanger resolution at the beginning and a weak cliffhanger at the end. Jane Adams gets her scene–with some dialogue–as she again tries to get photographs of reclusive scientist William Fawcett. Then she disappears. Still unclear if she knows her brother has died.

Duncan and Robert Lowery, in costume, get into a fistfight with three bad guys–including exceptionally bad actor Lee Roberts–getting things to a draw, which is better than usual for Batman and Robin. Usually they just get beat up.

Well, Duncan does get beat up. But anyway.

The best scene is the Wizard blathering on about his awesome invisibility invention. It’s at least a fun silly as opposed to a dumb silly. Even if Roberts is in the scene to drag it down.

Batman and Robin (1949) ch12 – Robin Rides the Wind

The chapter title, Robin Rides the Wind, got me hoping Robin would jump out of a plane or something. Without a chute. Sad spoiler: he doesn’t.

The chapter does clear one of the Wizard suspects, which would probably be more effective if the character–played by Michael Whalen–appeared more often. He doesn’t appear often. He appears three times. Including this chapter.

So it’s not him. But radio broadcaster Rick Vallin is still a suspect (sort of). He’s revealing secret police information over his radio show again. Out of his living room broadcast studio.

The chapter does have Robert Lowery and Johnny Duncan running around a big house’s grounds in costume. They run rather amusingly. And there’s not a lot of action so Ira H. Morgan’s night-for-day photography is fine.

The finale of this chapter is enough like the finale of last chapter it’s getting hard to keep track. Very little happens in between the cliffhanger resolve and the new cliffhanger–after Whalen and Vallin are done with their appearances; it’s just Lowery and Duncan showing how inept they are at successfully entrapping suspects.

It’s so close to being over and it’s still so far away.

Batman and Robin (1949) ch11 – Robin’s Ruse

So when Robin (Johnny Duncan) is alone in the Batcave, he doesn’t use the changing room. He puts on his tights in the public area. Off-screen, sure, but Robin’s Ruse confirms it.

The titular Ruse isn’t particularly exciting. It’s fairly predictable, especially after the cliffhanger reveal at the beginning, with one adequate surprise. But for Batman and Robin, adequacy might as well be excellence.

And before the ruse, there’s even a scene with almost okay delivery from “lead” Robert Lowery–opposite William Fawcett. Once the scene’s over, Lowery’s back to his usual unbearable self.

Some good day-for-night photography from Ira H. Morgan.

Unfortunately, much of the episode is bad guy Lee Roberts barking orders at the other bad guys. Roberts is terrible. His character’s poorly written–bad ideas as expository fodder–but every one of Roberts’s deliveries is bad. The bad guy scenes, which are the serial’s main type of scene, suffer greatly.

It’s a strange sensation–Duncan and Lowery not giving the serial’s worst performances.

Batman and Robin (1949) ch10 – Batman’s Last Chance!

The chapter title, Batman’s Last Chance!, must refer to Batman’s last chance to run around in this particular drab office building. I don’t think it’s supposed to be the same one they used earlier, but it definitely appears to be the same set. The last third–maybe less but it feels like a third–of the chapter is Robert Lowery running around this office building’s corridors trying to avoid the bad guys.

Until Lowery suits up for the finale, Last Chance is one of the better chapters. It passes time with less annoyance than a usual Batman and Robin chapter. Probably because most of it is Jane Adams and her crook brother, George Offerman Jr. Everyone acts real dumb–Offerman not noticing Adams following him, the crooks locking Adams up with a live telephone, Adams calling Bruce Wayne for help instead of the cops; the list of dumb, as always, is way too long.

There’s one pleasant surprise when the possible cliffhanger device–an electrified door–doesn’t turn out to be that device. It’s a misdirection device, but not a drawn out one. Works better in the chapter. Provides something like drama.

If only Lowery were able to convey such a thing with his acting. He and Robin Johnny Duncan could care less about their failed superhero outings endangering the general public.