Tag: Marsha Mason

Frasier (1993) s05e11 – Ain’t Nobody’s Business If I Do

It’s a potentially great episode, done in by David Lee’s oddly inept direction during the most important scene—though Ken Lamkin’s photography doesn’t help—and the script. Jay Kogen gets the credit. I’m starting to recognize the new crop of writers on “Frasier” and it’s never for good reasons.

The episode resolves one of the show’s longer running subplots, John Mahoney dating Marsha Mason. Mason hasn’t been around much this season and she gets an okay part this episode (it’s like someone else wrote the dramatic stuff, which is great until Kelsey Grammer can’t act it). She and Mahoney get stuff to do in the second half. The first half is the rest of the cast freaking out about Mahoney proposing to Mason. Rest of the cast except Peri Gilpin. The only thing Kogen can find her to do is a mini-scene leading into another scene in the cafe. It’s a good joke and the episode ends up not having room for Gilpin, but she’s missed when it’s not focused on Mahoney and Mason.

Jane Leeves has found an engagement ring and tells Grammer and David Hyde Pierce about it. All three of them are freaking out, though Hyde Pierce most of all because he hires a private investigator to snoop on Mason’s past. Grammer’s taking the more respectful of Mahoney’s wishes route, though if the detective’s already done the work what’s the harm….

There’s some bad material with about sex jokes about Maris (at , there are a couple transphobic jokes—which is apparently Kogen’s thing, he had one the last episode he wrote too—but eventually, when the story becomes about Hyde Pierce and Grammer intruding on Mahoney’s life, it gets surprisingly good, mostly because of the acting. So it’s even more disappointing when Grammer’s got no idea how to play the dramatic scenes with Mahoney later on. The same ones Lee can’t figure out how to direct and Lamkin can’t figure out how to light. There’s this exceptional performance from Mahoney, but the show lets him down.

It ends up being better than it ought to be, but never deserving of the good work Mahoney puts into it.

I spent the entire last scene wondering how Lee could whiff it so much on the direction; he’s always been absolutely competent to this point and he just cannot make it happen. And then there’s Grammer’s bad approach to it too. Thank goodness for Mahoney, shame he had to Atlas it.

Frasier (1993) s05e02 – The Gift Horse

The Gift Horse is from a one-time writer (Ron Darian), which might explain the soft retcon regarding John Mahoney’s birthdays on the show. This episode turns the gift giving into a competition between Kelsey Grammer and David Hyde Pierce, as each tries to out do the other on the gift, leading to Grammer going all out with a big screen TV only to discover Hyde Pierce still has him beat. Then there’s a lot of nice character stuff for Mahoney at the end with his eventual gift.

But the show’s had Mahoney birthday episodes every year and they’re never anywhere near as happy of events as this episode. And not just because Marsha Mason’s around trying to make sure Mahoney’s got the best “sexty-fifth" birthday party ever. Mason’s mostly in scenes with Jane Leeves, assigning her party-related grunt work; it very much does not seem any of them would be in Leeves’s job responsibilities. But whatever, it’s fine. Leeves gets to be there for some of the TV stuff and even gets a quick moment opposite Peri Gilpin, which is too rare.

Speaking of Gilpin, she doesn’t get much to do but she’s got the great opening when she’s trying to convince Grammer to help her make an ex jealous. The punchline involves Hyde Pierce and is a particular excellent one. Darian’s script might not do the continuity—I mean, it’s a sitcom—but he’s got some good jokes and his Grammer and Hyde Pierce competitiveness stuff is outstanding.

The Pamela Fryman direction is good throughout but it really shines in the finale, when Mahoney gets to do some more dramatic stuff related to the birthday and his gift. While there are some laughs in it, the scene is mostly just character development material for Mahoney who does some fine work.

There’s also a reference to Mahoney having a perm in his youth—old pictures for the birthday are a thing, though we only get descriptions—and I’m fairly sure… Mahoney did have close to a perm in at least a couple movies (Say Anything and Tin Men). It’s neat to be able to accurately imagine thanks to actual recall.

It’s a funny and good episode—the continuity “errors” are only because no one ever intended home video marathons of the show—and the end tag has a decent (albeit slightly unbelievable) resolve to a hanging plot threads. There’s also a nice character arc for Grammer and Hyde Pierce with their competitiveness.

Makes me wish Darian had come back to write more.

Frasier (1993) s04e20 – Daphne Hates Sherry

There’s some truly great stuff this episode—Kelsey Grammer directs and continues his extremely gentle look at the potential chemistry between David Hyde Pierce and Jane Leeves (he directed the previous Moon Dance episode, which was the first time the show really acknowledged the potential)—but there’s also some very messy stuff.

The messy stuff starts, with Marsha Mason moving in on Leeves’s space in the apartment. Mason’s John Mahoney’s girlfriend, who’s taken to sleeping over, and discouraging Mahoney from eating healthy and exercising; Leeves—being his physical therapist—has an investment in Mahoney doing both those things. In fact, it’s her only investment. The episode entirely skirts around the intrusion at the professional level, then ups the ante with Mason giving out Leeves’s phone number to the various barflies she knows who are looking to score.

So, you would think part of the episode would include Grammer and Mahoney—as Leeves’s employers—addressing the inappropriateness of Mason essentially promising her acquaintances physical favors from their employee, but they don’t. Instead, everyone’s able to get over it once Grammer comes in to solve the problems because he’s the only one who can do it. He’s been too busy to solve the problems because he’s sick (not to mention directing the episode), leaving Leeves with no alternative than to seek refuge at Hyde Pierce’s, where they get really close to horizontal. See, there’s a heat wave to complicate matters, especially since Hyde Pierce only has a single fan and no air-conditioning because fancy buildings don’t have AC.

The stuff with Hyde Pierce and Leeves bonding and flirting is phenomenal, with wonderful acting from both of them.

The stuff with Leeves and Mason fighting while Mahoney grins or takes no responsibility for the situation—much less a side—is annoying. It’s admirable how well Mason’s able to sway from being likable to not, but when taken as a whole, her character is exceptionally problematic through this episode.

Most of the episode takes place at the apartments, Grammer’s and Hyde Pierce’s, with a short scene at the radio station to establish Grammer’s illness, continued status as a desperate single man (Peri Gilpin tries to get him to go to a singles party), and give Gilpin and Dan Butler a scene in the episode. The rest of the time it’s Mason picking on Leeves, Leeves and Hyde Pierce in a Tennessee Williams spoof, and Grammer occasionally popping in to complain about people bothering him while he’s sick.

There’s some really good writing—script credit to Chuck Ranberg and Anne Flett-Giordano—and even a great punchline for Hyde Pierce in the otherwise pat conclusion, but the episode’s way too willing to empty the pool on characters’ proverbial depths. Leeves’s agency drains and Mason gets through without ever having to confront the idea of her intruding on privacy, even though it’s painfully obvious she’s been doing it. Despite the wonderful scenes between Hyde Pierce and Leeves (it’s such good directing from Grammer too), Leeves doesn’t need a shoulder to cry on, she needs the HR department. The episode also doesn’t do Mahoney any favors, reducing him to support for Mason.

It’s got to be one of the most uneven “Frasier” so far.

Frasier (1993) s04e19 – Three Dates and a Breakup

I don’t know if Rob Greenberg is actually on my list of “Frasier” writers to worry about or if I just think he’s on my list of “Frasier” writers to worry about and I’m mistaking the standard nineties misogyny with it being a repeating problem for Greenberg. Either way, there’s a lot to unpack, as the misogyny interacts with classism, ageism, and just plain old toxic masculinity.

The forty-eight minute episode—a two-parter, which originally aired the same night then went on to get split for syndication I assume—gets off on the wrong foot, with Kelsey Grammer and David Hyde Pierce mocking Peri Gilpin for being sweaty while jogging. She’s going to get a subplot about how her self-esteem is entirely based on what her hometown acquaintances think of her appearance. At no point do professionally trained psychiatrists Grammer or Hyde Pierce do anything but encourage her in this pursuit, albeit with an eye roll because, you know, women are silly.

It’s a profoundly thin subplot, ending with Marsha Mason age-shaming Gilpin? Hopefully Gilpin got to keep the elegant gown she eventually casually strolls around in, but it’s a heck of a subplot in a two-parter about Grammer getting dates with three women on three consecutive days. He’s so happy about it he calls and brags to a (sadly offscreen) Norm Peterson (from “Cheers”). On each of these dates, however, Mason shows up to spoil things. She and John Mahoney are in a fight and Mason’s presence in the apartment messes up the evening for Grammer. But more for his dates, as Mason tends to reveal the things Grammer’s been lying to them about in order to get them in bed.

Ah, the nineties.

Hyde Pierce’s subplot is being jealous of Grammer and also trying to make sure Mason and Mahoney’s fight ends in a breakup, even after it becomes clear the tension is having really negative effects on Mahoney. Initially only Jane Leeves—whose subplot about trying out an American accent isn’t funny, but is the only one where you don’t cringe at some point—notices something wrong with Mahoney, but soon Grammer’s picked it up and out of concern and empathy, changes his tune on Mason (he and Hyde Pierce hate her for being brassy). There’s some great material for Grammer in the finish with Mahoney, but there’s never any great material for Mahoney or Mason, even though the episode’s actually about them.

None of Grammer’s three dates make much impression–two are caricatures, one isn’t even in it enough to be a caricature. Greenberg writes the caricatures as hysterical tropes, while the last is apparently even shallower than Hyde Pierce (or Grammer just thinks so little of her, but, you know, in a good way because society girl?).

There’s some really nice direction from Jeff Melman, but given where the episode goes for Mahoney and Mason, they really ought to have gotten more. It’s also not surprising at all they didn’t; if Greenberg isn’t on my writer problem list, I’m definitely going to remember him for next time.

Though, wait, the C plot about the security guard being able to see in the elevators ends up pretty funny. Could be funnier, but it’s an actual solid laugh and not one where you’re laughing with the bully or lying serial dater.

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.

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.

The Goodbye Girl (1977, Herbert Ross)

The Goodbye Girl is excessively genial. Usually at the expense of lead Marsha Mason. It’s her movie too. Not hers to lose, because it’s so much her movie–she’s The Goodbye Girl–instead hers to be taken away. And take it away writer Neil Simon does. The film starts being about single mom Mason getting dumped by her live-in boyfriend. He’s a New York actor, she was a Broadway dancer. He goes to Italy, dumping her and the kid (Quinn Cummings) instead of taking them to L.A. as promised.

Of course, the ex-boyfriend is never in the movie. He’s got his pictures up all over the apartment, but he’s never in the movie. It’s the best thing Simon and director Ross end up doing in the film. The establishing of this awful ex-boyfriend just through exposition and visual suggestion.

The ex sublets the apartment out from under Mason and Cummings. Enter Richard Dreyfuss, Chicago actor come to New York, subletter.

The apartment is central to the film. Simon’s script has play trappings while still paced like a movie; Ross never goes stagy. The direction’s not great, but it has a lot of depth. The apartment becomes gradually familiar in the first half of the film. It becomes comfortable. Even though Mason and ten-year old Cummings are living with part-time nudist, wheat germ enthusiast Dreyfuss. Though all of Dreyfuss’s first act eccentricities disappear right after being established.

Goodbye Girl has some behind-the-scenes drama and some of it might explain Simon’s disjointed script. But the lack of consistency just comes off as lazy. It makes a lot of Simon’s set pieces come off contrived. Especially once they become at the expense of Mason. First couple times, it’s not at the expense of screentime for her, it’s at the expense of her performance. See, once Dreyfuss warms to Mason–which seems impossible after their first few scenes together–and takes a liking to Cummings (who’s likable in the thinnest part in Simon’s atomic-thin cast of characters), he sort of starts stalking her. Like he goes to her job to mess with her.

Then Mason stops doing anything but decorating; once she and Dreyfuss do hook up, she stops caring about anything except redecorating.

The movie has some problems with plotting. Ross doesn’t do summary well so it’s never clear how long they’re living together before the third act. It just makes for a disjointed picture–Dreyfuss and Mason go from bickering funny to romantically funny in about five minutes. And it’s Dreyfuss becoming a completely different character.

That character is far from an organic development. The movie doesn’t even really acknowledge that his character is developing. While he should be warming up to Mason and Cummings, Dreyfuss is busy in the play from hell subplot with Paul Benedict as a misguided but insistent director.

So, while Dreyfuss is doing all that stuff, Mason gets to keep her movie. Then she loses it.

By the finale, all Goodbye Girl has got keeping it going is the charm of its three stars. Because everyone else in Goodbye Girl is disposable. It’s just Dreyfuss, Mason, and Cummings. If their parts were stronger, it’d be enough. If their parts were at least consistent, it might be enough.

The film’s dramatically inert. But pleasant–even when it’s being creepy–and amiably acted. David M. Walsh’s photography doesn’t help with the excess geniality. His lighting is too soft. Dave Grusin’s score is a little light too. Everything in Goodbye Girl is too thin, too soft, or too light. They have to be to match Simon’s unsubstantial script.

2/4★★

CREDITS

Directed by Herbert Ross; written by Neil Simon; director of photography, David M. Walsh; edited by John F. Burnett; music by Dave Grusin; production designer, Albert Brenner; produced by Ray Stark; released by Warner Bros.

Starring Marsha Mason (Paula McFadden), Quinn Cummings (Lucy McFadden), Richard Dreyfuss (Elliot Garfield), Paul Benedict (Mark), Barbara Rhoades (Donna), and Theresa Merritt (Mrs. Crosby).

RELATED