Frasier (1993) s05e01 – Frasier’s Imaginary Friend

There’s very little as satisfying as the season premiere immediately addressing my problems with the previous season’s finale and remedying them. That episode ended with Kelsey Grammer, lovelorn, following a woman (Lisa Guerrero) onto an airplane and pretending he was always on her flight. This episode opens with Guerrero getting very creeped out by Grammer’s behavior and moving to another seat.

When Grammer tries his luck with the next available female passenger (Kimberly Oja), he soon finds himself hunting for another seat himself.

It turns out to be for the best because then he meets zoologist Ph.D. candidate and supermodel, Sela Ward, who thinks he’s swell. They hit it off so well, they become secret boyfriend and girlfriend while away; she’s going through a messy breakup from a football player and doesn’t want anyone to know she’s already started seeing someone else.

So when Grammer gets back home and everyone thinks he’s struck out on his impulsive trip to Mexico… it doesn’t take long before he starts bragging about her. Only no one believes him—with David Hyde Pierce and John Mahoney quickly going from amused to concerned (while Jane Leeves stays firmly amused, with some great one-liners)–and every time Ward has a moment for Grammer, she gets called away.

Eventually everything gets resolved (with half the same plot point as “Schitt’s Creek” would use decades later), after some amazing ranting from Grammer and great comedic acting from Ward. She’s mostly in the opening and closing of the episode—with a brief scene in between—and she’s really good at the comedy. It always seems like network drama actors were more impressive in the sitcoms.

There are some great scenes for Grammer as he tries to prove the relationship and not realize how absurd he sounds—though there are also a few shades of toxic masculinity about the secret ex-boyfriend football player—and both Mahoney and Hyde Pierce get some good moments as well. Rob Greenberg’s the credited writer and the script’s the best he’s had his name on so far. It’s such a convoluted, layered premise, there isn’t room for a lot of easy jokes. And the whole thing does play like a repudiation of the cringe-inducing previous season closer. Odd Greenberg’s doing it.

Solid direction from David Lee. Nothing earth shattering but just a good sitcom; he focuses well on having Ward guest starring. In fact, the episode doesn’t have any subplots—other than the supporting cast trying to figure out if Grammer’s full of it–it’s very focused.

It’s an excellent season premiere.

The Fugitive (1993, Andrew Davis)

It’s been a while since I last saw The Fugitive. I remember it didn’t impress me much, particularly Andrew Davis’s direction.

Needless to say, I was very wrong. I don’t think I’ve ever appreciated the film as much as I did this viewing. Davis’s direction is the finest action thriller direction I can recall. The film starts a breakneck pace about twenty minutes into the film and doesn’t stop… I don’t even think it stops at the end. The last scene is very quick as well.

The film’s approach to mainstream filmmaking–setting two strong actors opposite each other without making it a buddy picture–has vanished. The Fugitive doesn’t just juxtapose Harrison Ford and Tommy Lee Jones, it barely gives Ford any screen time to himself when he’s not on the run. The first twenty minutes… it’s summary storytelling. The audience doesn’t really get to know Ford until after he’s running.

Most of Ford’s scenes are by himself, either running or investigating, so it’s up to Jones. The supporting cast around Jones is a phenomenal piece of casting–Joe Pantoliano doing comic relief, obviously, is going to be good, but Daniel Roebuck has some moments too. Davis manages to give his cast great little moments without ever breaking pace.

Michael Chapman’s photography is an essential element. The film’s color scheme manages to be rich and drab at the same time.

I’m trying to think of something negative or unenthusiastic to say about the film.

I can’t think of anything.

4/4 ★★★★

CREDITS

Directed by Andrew Davis; screenplay by Jeb Stuart and David Twohy, based on a story by Twohy and characters created by Roy Huggins; director of photography, Michael Chapman; edited by Don Brochu, David Finfer, Dean Goodhill, Dov Hoenig, Richard Nord and Dennis Virkler; music by James Newton Howard; production designer, J. Dennis Washington; produced by Arnold Kopelson; released by Warner Bros.

Starring Harrison Ford (Dr. Richard Kimble), Tommy Lee Jones (Deputy Samuel Gerard), Sela Ward (Helen Kimble), Jeroen Krabbé (Dr. Charles Nichols), Joe Pantoliano (Agent Cosmo Renfro), Andreas Katsulas (Frederick Sykes), Jane Lynch (Dr. Kathy Wahlund), Julianne Moore (Dr. Anne Eastman), Daniel Roebuck (Agent Robert Biggs), L. Scott Caldwell (Agent Poole), Johnny Lee Davenport (Marshal Henry), Tom Wood (Agent Noah Newman) and Eddie Bo Smith Jr. (Copeland).


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Rainbow Drive (1990, Bobby Roth)

Peter Weller’s an L.A. cop with an in-ground swimming pool and a case his bosses don’t want him to solve. So what’s he going to do? He’s going to solve it, boring the viewer to sleep while he does too. It’s not Weller’s fault. It’s the script. And the direction, but I’ll get to it in a minute. The script has this wonderful, unspeakably awful way of every time a character talks to another character, they refer to that other character by name. It’s like the screenwriters went to a seminar and heard the use of names is good for emphasis. Revealing emphasis or some such nonsense.

I had intended starting this post with a comparison between made-for-cable cop mysteries with b-movies from the 1950s, but Rainbow Drive is so bad–well, I guess, it’s bad like most of those 1950s b-movies. Besides the terrible script, and the inability to make a case of Chinatown-level confusion worth unraveling, it’s director obviously thinks in terms of television sets. Bobby Roth directed one episode of “Miami Vice” and, with his Tangerine Dream score going in Drive, thinks he’s Michael Mann. To say he’s not is such an understatement, it’s not worth exploring. TV movies do not have to look like TV shows. Orson Welles composed quite a bit in 4:3 and it doesn’t look like a TV show. Roth’s also a terrible director of actors. Rainbow Drive has familiar faces saying bad lines and generally embarrassing themselves, particularly Bruce Weitz.

I could try to defend Weller’s performance in this one, but it’s pretty damn bad. David Caruso’s real good though, back when he acted. He takes a noteless role and makes it interesting to watch.

On the plus side, however, some of the second unit shots on L.A. are cool looking.