Frasier (1993) s02e13 – Retirement is Murder

New writing team (Elias Davis and David Pollock)—albeit one working together since the 1960s—and a new director (Alan Myerson) but it’s a close to quintessential “Frasier.” Though more in the “good jackass Kelsey Grammer” column than the “good exemplar episode” one, even though it’s not exactly Grammer’s episode. Or at least it shouldn’t be. It should be John Mahoney’s, but the script gives it to Grammer and just for the jackass moment. It’s kind of like a lower brow impression of a “Frasier” episode.

But really funny. Because Grammer’s really good as a jackass.

The episode does do a decent cast showcase, however. Peri Gilpin gets a decent bit where she shuts down Bulldog (Dan Butler)—it’s a syndication-era sitcom so while I remember last episode Butler trying to hoodwink Gilpin into bed and them fighting but it doesn’t seem to be an issue for them here. More, the show’s figured out a bit of Gilpin and Butler banter before it turns sour (and funnier) is good.

Jane Leeves and David Hyde Pierce both get to do some good support, with Hyde Pierce getting to go to basketball game with Grammer and Mahoney. See, Mahoney’s obsessing over solving the “White Lotus” murder plaguing him for twenty years (and since the pilot or second episode) with Leeves his Watson.

Davis and Pollock do a great job with the “‘Frasier’ bait and switch” plotting where the biggest physical set piece is just a segue into the actual important set piece. It’s not a particularly ambitious episode, given it all hinges on Grammer being foolishly pompous and whatever but it’s a nice exercise in effective plotting. And Mahoney’s really good no matter he loses focus instead of gaining it as the episode progresses. I mean, it’s his Retirement in the title but, hey, Grammer’s a good jackass.

Also, yay, Ron Dean cameo.

Oh, and Mary Steenburgen on the radio; she’s recognizable even if I didn’t quite recognize her during the call.

Frasier (1993) s01e15 – You Can’t Tell a Crook by His Cover

Would it be a spoiler to comment on the presence of always a cop character actor Ron Dean being in a “line-up” of three people where two are cops and one’s an ex-con? It’s fun to see Dean in a slightly different context, especially since he gets a punchline (he knows about a fancy serving plate in the apartment).

The episode’s got two big set pieces, first being Frasier (Kelsey Grammer) trying to identify the “bad apple” in dad John Mahoney’s group of poker buddies. The opening has Mahoney visiting Grammer at work and Peri Gilpin just having gotten fleeced by a con artist; Grammer’s sure his Harvard degree would undoubtedly help him identify criminals so he’d never be a victim… Mahoney bets him otherwise.

So poker night is Grammer loitering around and staring at his suspects, making accusations and asking pointed questions (he’s not allowed to ask direct questions but he can do context ones). When he finally gets to his big Agatha Christie reveal, turns out he’s wrong, but also Daphne (Jane Leeves) has set up a date with the actual criminal. Mahoney forbids her to go, Grammer encourages it, Leeves tells them both to butt out.

After a quick scene with David Hyde Pierce in the coffee shop—where we learn their decaf lattes with skim milk are called “Gutless Wonders,” which is mean, yes, but also accurate if you’ve got a ginger stomach, after all—Grammer and Hyde Pierce (who’s terrified for Leeves’s safety once informed of her plans) are off to the dive bar where she’s on her date.

The script, from David Lloyd (frequent writer and co-executive producer Christopher Lloyd’s dad), has a fine sense of balance. Grammer gets a lot in the poker game sequence, ditto Mahoney, then in the bar, Leeves gets to show off her comedic skills—not slapstick or screwball this time, but dramatically—and Hyde Pierce gets this truly marvelous bit where he describes Leeves quite poetically. Lloyd’s script is jazzed, packing in a joke everywhere it can. If the jokes didn’t land, it’d be a problem. They do, so it’s endearing.

The ending, which has the Crane boys getting into trouble in the dive bar, delivers everything the concept promises and more, with a particularly nice last laugh… making the cute but nothing more end credits joke a bit of a disappointment.

But it’s a good episode, with a nice showcase for Leeves. Though it’s unfortunate we—again—don’t get to see natural buddies Gilpin and Mahoney hang out.

Hammer, Slammer, & Slade (1990, Mark Schultz)

Hammer, Slammer, & Slade is a television pilot spin-off of a movie (I’m Gonna Git You Sucka). It has the same writer as the movie–Keenan Ivory Wayans–and much of the movie’s cast. The three “leads” all return from the movie–Bernie Casey is Slade, Jim Brown is Slammer, and Isaac Hayes is Hammer. Slade, Slammer, & Hammer does sound terrible, but it’s the more accurate order as far as plot importance goes for the characters.

And then there’s Eriq La Salle. He’s playing the Wayans part from the movie, but a rookie cop for TV instead of the film’s war hero. Frankly, he’s in it too much. La Salle’s got two modes–passive and even more passive. He can’t figure out the part and director Schultz is no help. Hammer, Slammer, & Slade is often hilarious. But it’s never because of Schultz. His direction is an unmitigated disaster.

Harsh adjective, but there’s no reason this pilot shouldn’t have been magic. Except it’s not magic. And it’s not even Schultz’s fault; he’s just not the right guy to do this thing. Because this thing is a spoof of an eighties cop procedural, seventies blaxploitation pictures, with three–ahem, “older”– genre superstar leads, and an often deft script from Wayans. But Wayans’s jokes aren’t paced right for the forty-seven minute pilot–right, Hammer, Slammer, & Slade is a pilot for an hour-long action comedy show. Back when it was shopped around in 1990–spoiler–it didn’t sell. Because it wasn’t time yet.

It also doesn’t help the film stock–that standard eighties drama film stock–used on the pilot doesn’t fit the content at all. Especially not with Schultz’s bad composition of set pieces. He’s never good, but he gets noticeably worse on the set pieces. Because he can’t direct the comedy.

The first act is La Salle’s cop mentor (also blaxploitation star Ron O’Neal) getting framed and La Salle going to Casey for help. It’s a great time for the character focus to pass off because La Salle’s too tedious. The show’s called Hammer, Slammer, & Slade, not the The Guy From the Movie Didn’t Come Back. It’s about Casey, Brown, and Hayes.

The getting the band back together takes way too long. It eventually pays off. But it takes too long.

Another timing issue is how long the talking scenes go on. Sure, all the actors get some cool posturing, but then it just keeps going. So either Wayans wrote terrible scene transitions or someone told the actors to just ad lib and hope for a quotable gem. During the second act, it gets annoying. The pilot has these illustrated transitions for commercial breaks–which are awesome–but when a scene is bad, you just sit and hope for it to go to illustration instead of it not stopping. It’s the same series of boring shots from Schultz and bad cuts from Stan Allen.

The editing is real bad, partially because Schultz clearly can’t get consistent deliveries from the actors. Just in conversation.

So it’s kind of rough going for a while. The soft misogyny jokes (from the good guys) don’t help–and it’s one of La Salle’s few scenes after the first act, so it makes him even more grating. And the way Wayans frames Hayes initially as a punchline for being hen-pecked (a fantastic Ja’net DuBois in a poorly written part) is tiresome.

There’s been at least one good laugh, but some failed ones too.

Then the team comes together in action scenes and there’s actual energy. Casey, Brown, and Hayes are all willing to do more work than the script or direction requires. They’ve been getting nerf balls or worse–Schultz has no idea how to direct Brown or Brown’s lines–but then the requirements of the medium take over and the pilot has to throw fastballs or whatever. And the actors are ready.

Even La Salle. He breaks character for a couple lines when he actually seems like he’s acting. Sure, he seems like he’s an angry Peter Benton but it’s something.

Poor Steve James does the most work in the unfortunately written part of Black man obsessed with karate. He never gets good material, though the script does at least recognize he’s the only one in shape. The out of shape, aging jokes are good. Not even Schultz can mess up the direction enough in those scenes. The actors seem cautious about it at first, then commit as things go on.

Hammer, Slammer, & Slade ought to be awesome. It’s not. It still should’ve been a series. With a lower budget–being shot on video and looking like a sitcom would’ve helped–and anyone else directing.

Still, as is, the cool factor outweighs the significant problems.

Above the Law (1988, Andrew Davis)

Above the Law is just about as slick as a film can be. It’s all thanks to director Davis. Even though Davis and star Steven Seagal co-produced, Davis has to overcome Seagal’s acting inability. So all credit to Davis. It isn’t just about maximizing the action, but about getting the plot to provide some interest, so it doesn’t all feel like a commercial for Steven Seagal.

But it is a commercial; Above the Law is an amazing star vehicle. Everything is weighed to make the viewer more and more sympathetic to Seagal’s character. Oh, look, his suffering wife (Sharon Stone in a terribly directed performance) doesn’t want Seagal to battle the CIA task force blowing up Chicago to get Seagal. Oddly enough, the film was released overseas as Nico (Seagal’s character), which suggests some understanding of the egomania on display. But on beautiful display, because even though Davis significantly fumbles almost every action sequence, he’s got these great Chicago locations and he has a great sense of how to use them (which does lead to a rather good foot chase sequence), and he’s got photographer Robert Steadman, who is fabulous.

Unfortunately, editor Michael Brown is awful. He misses visual beats. It doesn’t matter, of course, because Above the Law isn’t actually an action movie, not in a traditional sense. It’s a prototypical mid-to-low budget major studio action movie. Something to not embarrass itself in the theater and do surprisingly well on video.

A slick commercial. Not so much visually slick, but almost pathologically manipulative in making a Seagal a serious movie star. Not an actor; Above the Law never asks Seagal to act. Davis does try to make him likable and is even able to get slight success with Pam Grier (though Davis fumbles directing their scenes; Brown being no help), but it’s not much. It’s never a good performance.

And I don’t even want to look at the Frank Silva villain, which leads to Seagal figuratively throwing away the previous standard–the more exploitative, lower budgeted action movie.

Inoffensive, likable performances from Grier and Ron Dean help a lot. Though Davis is clearly indifferent to his actors’ performances; no one gets any favors. So, either Davis or the editor. Can’t give anyone too much time, otherwise it might not look like Seagal’s a big time movie star.

In the end, Davis is due a lot of respect for this film. He’d be due infinitely more if Above the Law were actually any good.