Hello and welcome back to the Deep Dive. Today
we are cracking open a file that, honestly, I
really didn't think would be this thick. Yeah,
I know what you mean. It's quite a stack of notes.
It is. Because we are looking at a piece of television
history that I think, you know, a lot of people
just sort of take for granted. We're going back
to the early 90s. It is so good to be here. And
you're right. Taken for granted is really the
perfect way to put it, because when something
is this massively successful, people tend to
think it was easy. But as we're going to see
today, it was anything but easy. Exactly. So
for you listening, we are doing a highly granular,
really deep look at season 10 of the legendary
American sitcom Cheers. A monumental season.
Totally. Now, just to orient everyone, this specific
season aired on NBC from September 1991 all the
way to May 1992. And I have to be completely
honest with you. When I saw we were doing season
10, my very first thought was zombie TV. Zombie
TV. I like that term. What do you mean by that
exactly? You know what I mean. It's that phase
in a show's life where it's just, well, shuffling
along. The writers are exhausted. The actors
are coorly bored and they're just recycling the
exact same plots because the network keeps backing
up a dump truck full of money. Right, right.
Usually by season 10, a show is just dead on
its feet. That is the typical trajectory. Absolutely.
Usually see the creative peak around season three,
maybe season four. Then you get those sort of
maintenance years and then the slow, really painful
decline. Yeah. But the data we have here and
the source material we're looking at tells a
completely different story about Cheers. That's
the first thing that jumped out at me in the
production notes. The numbers are just staggering.
We're talking about viewerships in the 20 to
30 million range. Every single week. It was an
absolute juggernaut. I mean, to put that in perspective
for you today, 30 million viewers is, well, it
just doesn't happen anymore. No, not at all.
That's a Super Bowl number or a major breaking
news event. But for Cheers in 1991, that was
just a normal Thursday night. It's just a Thursday.
So our mission today, really, is to figure out
how. How do they completely avoid the zombie
face? We're going to explore how they managed
this massive ensemble cast, how they navigated
the whole Sam and Rebecca dynamic, and how they
delivered these iconic guest appearances. All
while maintaining those insane numbers. Right.
And we have the receipts for all of this. We're
looking at detailed production notes, cast lists,
and episode synopses for the entire season. And
it's really worth noting who was actually driving
the bus at this point. Good point. Because you
still have the original creators at the very
top, right? James Burroughs and the Charles Brothers,
Glenn and Les. They were up there under Charles
Burroughs, Charles Productions in association
with Paramount Television. But on the ground,
the day -to -day showrunners were different.
Yeah, I was looking at that exact list in our
sources. It's not the Charles Brothers running
the room anymore. No, it wasn't. For season 10,
the specific showrunners were Cherry Iken. Bill
Steinkellner and Feef Sutton. And did that change
the vibe of the show? Because usually, you know,
when you change the people actually writing the
words every week, you inevitably change the voice
of the characters. It definitely did. This team
is actually sometimes referred to as a sort of
dream team of sitcom writers. They really swung
for the fences this year. Oh, for sure. They
brought... a slightly more absurdist, maybe even
a darker energy to the show. You see them taking
these massive creative risks that a younger,
less established show simply wouldn't dare take.
Like a disastrous attempt at baby making. Exactly.
Or an elaborate prank war that somehow involves
a sitting U .S. senator. Or, and we are definitely
going to get to this later, a look into the future
at a main character's actual funeral. That funeral
detail absolutely blew my mind when I read it.
Okay, let's unpack this systematically. We really
have to start with the central dynamic of the
show. Sam and Rebecca. Right. Because for years,
Cheers was the Sam and Diane show. Then Diane
left, Rebecca came in, and we had a few years
of Sam just relentlessly trying to conquer Rebecca.
But by season 10... Where exactly are Sam Malone
and Rebecca Howe? It feels like that whole will
they won't they thing must be getting incredibly
stale by 1991. It was getting stale. And the
writers absolutely knew it. So in the season
opener, which is an episode called Baby Bawk,
they decided to just blow up the dynamic completely
by accelerating it to the absolute maximum. They
don't just flirt. They don't just casually date.
They decide to have a baby together. A baby.
See, this is exactly where my zombie TV alarm
bells started ringing. Because of the trope?
Yes. The let's have a baby plot is usually the
ultimate Cousin Oliver moment in television.
Yeah. It's usually this desperate Hail Mary pass
to add cuteness to a show when you've clearly
run out of jokes. In almost any other show, yes,
that's exactly what it is. But here is the pure
brilliance of that season 10 writing room. They
didn't introduce the concept of a baby to bring
the characters closer together or to make things
heartwarming. No, they didn't. They used the
idea of a baby. baby to expose exactly why these
two specific people should never, ever be together.
So it's essentially the anti -sitcom baby arc.
Precisely. Look at how they set it up. They decide
they want to have a baby. Do they have a romantic
candlelight dinner to celebrate? No. Right. They
immediately go to Frasier and Lilith for parenting
advice. Which, if you know those characters...
is mistake number one right if you want encouragement
for a happy carefree family life you do not go
to the cranes the source notes specifically mentioned
that their advice immediately kills the mood
and that feels very intentional from the writers
it's like the show is actively contrasting the
impulsive Let's just do it attitude of the bar
managers with the neurotic, hyper intellectual
reality of the cranes. That's a great observation.
The cranes serve as a sort of ghost of Christmas
future for Sam and Rebecca. They are what happens
when you intellectualize a relationship but completely
lack natural warmth. Right. And the show doesn't
just stop with them talking about it. They don't
let them off the hook. They force them to actually
test drive the idea of parenthood. Oh, you're
talking about the unplanned parenthood test.
Yes. The episode where they agree to babysit
Carla Tortelli's children. Now, for anyone listening
who maybe hasn't watched the show in a while
or hasn't seen the early seasons, we really need
to clarify something. Carla's children are not
normal children. No, they are not. They are essentially
feral beings. It's the ultimate stress test.
I mean, if you can survive a single night alone
with the Tortelli brood, you can probably survive
anything life throws at you. And naturally, it
is a complete, unmitigated disaster. But the
important takeaway here from a writing perspective
isn't just the slapstick comedy. It isn't just
Sam getting hit with food or Rebecca screaming
in frustration. Right. It's about the aftermath.
The important thing is the emotional fallout.
Because in a lesser show, they would have survived
the chaotic night, looked at a sleeping child
at the end of the episode, and said something
like, ah, it's all worth it. Exactly. The soft
piano music plays, the studio audience says,
ah, and they decide to keep trying for a kid.
Cheers completely refuses to do that. It shows
them deeply overwhelmed, genuinely frightened
and actively questioning their own competence
as adults. It uses the comedy to drive a permanent
wedge between them. And that leads directly to
the conceptual future episode. The episode called
Go Make. This one really fascinated me in the
production notes. It sounds so claustrophobic.
It really is. It's what people in the industry
call a bottle episode. I hear that term thrown
around a lot. Can we define that for the listener
who might not be a huge TV production nerd? Sure
thing. A bottle episode is usually something
done for budgetary reasons. You use just one
set, usually the main one, and only the core
cast members. No expensive guest stars, no location
shoots. It saves the production money. Okay,
that makes sense. But creatively, it acts as
a pressure cooker. it forces the writers to rely
entirely on dialogue and character psychology
because you can't rely on action sequences or
constant scene changes to keep the audience entertained.
So in Go Make, Sam and Rebecca are just stuck
together where... They are spending the night
together, specifically trying to conceive this
baby. But instead of it being sexy or romantic
in any way, they just get completely stuck in
their own heads. It's got overthinking the whole
thing. Yes. They start deeply imagining the future.
And this is where the show gets really conceptual.
They actually play out these hypothetical scenarios
of what their potential child would be like.
They ask, what if the kid is exactly like Sam?
What if the kid is exactly like Rebecca? And
reading the notes, Neither of those options sounds
particularly great. I mean, a mini Sam is basically
a tiny womanizer and a mini Rebecca is a complete
neurotic mess. Exactly. And through this imaginative
play, which is really just them projecting their
own deep -seated insecurities onto a non -existent
child, they come to a massive realization. They
ultimately decide not to do it. They decide against
having a child together. And this is a truly
massive moment for the entire series. Just think
about the overall trajectory of the show. Season
6, 7, 8, 9. It was all, will they find... Then
season 10 starts with, will they have a family?
And the final answer is a hard, undeniable no.
It's surprisingly mature for a network sitcom.
It is. It shifts the entire dynamic from romantic
tension to fundamental incompatibility. It takes
a lot of bravery for a writing staff to look
at their two highly bankable lead characters
and say, actually, you two would be terrible
parents together and you really shouldn't do
this. It honestly saves the show from becoming
just another standard domestic comedy. Because
if they had a baby, the show basically just becomes
full house set in a Boston bar. And absolutely
no. Nobody wants to see that. Nobody. So they
dodged the baby bullet. But this season has this
really strong underlying theme running through
it, doesn't it? Yeah. Based on the sources, it
feels like there's this constant tension between
growing up and growing old. And Sam seems to
be fighting the growing old part incredibly hard.
That is the perfect thematic lens to look at
the season through. Sam Malone is fighting a
completely losing battle against time. And that
brings us directly to the sperm count saga. This
is episode 11, titled I'm OK. You're defective.
Which, by the way, that title alone is just brutal.
It is brutal. And it's a critical breakdown of
Sam's entire character. You have to remember,
Sam Malone's entire identity, his complete sense
of self -worth is built on his virility. Right.
He's the former pro baseball player. He's the
ultimate ladies' man. He is Mayday Malone. So
if his plumbing doesn't work, who is he? That
is the exact existential crisis the writers force
him into. He is anxiously bracing for news from
a fertility doctor. He is absolutely terrified
that he might be the defective one in the equation.
And to really ramp up the thematic tension, the
B -plot of the episode features Frasier actively
writing his last will and testament. That is
such a stark contrast. So you have Sam dealing
with the potential creation of life, and at the
exact same time, Frasier is dealing with the
absolute certainty of death. Cheers was always
masterful at that specific kind of tonal balance.
But here is where the episode gets really interesting.
Sam finally gets the envelope from the doctor
with the test results. And what does he actually
do? He burns it. He literally sets the envelope
on fire. He consciously chooses ignorance. He
decides in that moment that the myth of Sam alone
is vastly more important to him than the reality
of his own physical health. It is a moment of
extreme. Almost childish vanity, but also deep
vulnerability. He's just too scared to know the
truth. But the writers, they don't just let him
off the hook there, do they? This is the part
of the production notes that I honestly had to
reread three times to make sure I was seeing
it right. The flash forward. Yes. This is undoubtedly
one of the most unique narrative devices used
in the entire 11 year run of the show. Describe
exactly what happens for the listener. So Sam
burns the envelope in the bar. We fade out. But
then. We fade back in and the on -screen caption
tells us we are suddenly many, many decades in
the future. So we are completely leaving the
early 90s. We are leaving the 20th century entirely.
The scene opens and we are at a funeral. Specifically,
we are at Frasier Crane's funeral. Wait, let's
just pause right there. We actually see the death
of Frasier Crane. Because... Considering Frazier
went on to have his own incredibly successful
spin -off show for another 11 years, and then
a whole reboot in the 2020s, This is kind of
a massive continuity nightmare, isn't it? It
absolutely is if you take it completely literally.
But you have to remember, in 1991, they had no
idea Frazier would basically live forever on
television. So they show us his funeral. We see
an elderly Lilith. We see an elderly Sam. And
the lawyer is standing there reading the will.
Right. The lawyer opens an envelope that everyone
assumes is Frazier's last testament. But instead,
it turns out to be the medical results that Sam
thought he had burned back in 1991. He burned
the wrong envelope. That is such a classic farce
setup. It really is. But the payoff isn't just
slapstick comedy. The lawyer reads the results
out loud to everyone. And it turns out Sam's
sperm count was, quote, perfectly average. Perfectly
average. Wow. Not Superman, not defective, just
average. And for a total narcissist like Sam
Malone, that is the ultimate insult. He isn't
biologically special. He's just a regular guy.
and Lilith's reaction to all of this happening
at her husband's funeral. She delivers arguably
the best line of the season. She just looks around
at the absolute chaos unfolding and she sighs
and says, that damn bar. That damn bar. You know,
when you think about it, that feels really heavy.
It's played for a laugh, but it's incredibly
heavy. It is heavy because it implies that the
bar isn't just a fun place where they all hang
out and work. It's a trap. It's this emotional
black hole. Yeah. It implies that this specific
dynamic, Sam. Sam, the gang, the bar itself,
outlasts their marriages, their other careers,
and eventually even their lives. They're all
just trapped in Cheers forever. That is, wow.
I never really thought of Cheers as a sort of
purgatory before, but that reading really sells
it. So Sam is dealing with the absolute horror
of being average. Meanwhile, the notes show that
Rebecca is dealing with her own independent struggles,
mostly a spiraling sense of self -worth. Rebecca's
entire arc in season 10 is really about the massive
gap between who she desperately wants to be and
who she actually is. She wants to be seen as
this high -powered, ruthless, corporate killer.
But in reality, she's a total mess. We definitely
see this in the episode License to Hill. Right.
In that episode, she tries to impress Sam by
taking total authoritative control of the bar.
She wants to prove once and for all that she's
the responsible one in the room. But in her absolute
hubris, she accidentally lets the bar's liquor
license expire. Which, if you run a bar, is basically
the single most important thing you cannot do.
It's the only thing that actually matters. So
because of her mistake, they have to serve non
-alcoholic drinks covertly to the customers.
It's a classic sitcom farce, everybody running
around trying to hide the crime. But it really
underlines Rebecca's constant state of failure.
She tries so incredibly hard, but she always
ends up tripping over her own feet. And then
there's her love life, or I guess lack thereof.
We definitely have to talk about the episode
Rebecca's Lover. Oh, that is a standout episode,
mostly because of the incredible guest star they
brought in. The source material highlights Harvey
Fierstein. The legendary Harvey Fierstein. He
plays Mark, who is Rebecca's old high school
flame. And Rebecca, just being classic Rebecca,
thinks this is finally it. She thinks this is
her big second chance at true love. She is completely
and utterly oblivious. She doesn't realize for
a second that Mark is gay. She is aggressively
pursuing him, just throwing herself at him, completely
convinced that he's her destined soulmate. What's
interesting is, usually in a network sitcom from
1991, the big reveal that a character is gay
would be played purely for a cheap laugh. You
know, just a big shock reaction from the studio
audience. Exactly. The gay panic trope was everywhere
back then. But Cheers handles it with surprising
tenderness. When the penny finally drops for
Rebecca, she isn't angry at him. She's just profoundly
sad. And Mark is incredibly kind and gentle with
her. The synopsis mentions a specific scene where
they just cuddle together. It's a genuinely beautiful
scene. They just sit there on the couch, cuddling
and commiserating about how incredibly difficult
relationships with men are. It totally pivots
from being this goofy farce about a misunderstanding
into a really poignant moment about adult loneliness.
It shows the audience that Rebecca isn't just
a cartoon character. She's a deeply lonely person
who is just desperate for real connection. And
that specific balance, that manic, crazy energy
versus the deep underlying sadness is exactly
what Kirstie Alley was so brilliant at playing.
She was an absolute master of that specific.
tragic comic tone. No one did it better. Okay,
so if Sam's theme is growing old and Rebecca's
theme is basically spinning her wheels, we really
need someone in the show who is actually growing
up. And surprisingly, according to the notes,
that person is Woody Boyd. It is Woody. Season
10 is arguably the Woody season. He is the one
core character who is actively moving his life
forward in a meaningful way. He's on the road
to the altar with his girlfriend, Kelly. Right.
Woody, the incredibly simple farm boy from Hanover,
Indiana, and Kelly. The astronomically wealthy,
totally oblivious socialite. It's the classic
class divide romance trope. But the writers throw
some pretty significant obstacles in his way
this season. Like Henri. Ah, Henri. The suave
French photographer. He was specifically introduced
to be a romantic rival, a foil for Woody. In
the episode, Find French Wine. Henri's visa is
expiring and he actively tries to marry Kelly
just so he can stay in the country. It completely
threatens Woody's own proposal plans. But reading
through this, Henri is really just a plot obstacle.
The real foundational obstacle between them is
the money. The massive class difference. That's
the real theme they're exploring. Look at the
episode Rich Man, Wood Man. Woody and Kelly come
back to Boston from a lavish vacation in London.
And Woody has noticeably changed. He's got a
real taste of the good life. He has. He's suddenly
wearing these fancy clothes. He's insufferably
dropping names left and right. And the rest of
the gang at the bar has to actively work to bring
him back to Earth. It's a really interesting
dynamic shift because usually. Woody is the most
grounded, humble person in the room. Seeing him
suddenly get a big head creates this really fun
friction with the rest of the ensemble. But the
show is careful to show he's not just a gold
digger, right? He genuinely loves her. and he
really proves it in the episode No Rest for the
Woody. Oh, this is easily one of the funniest
visual episodes of the entire season. Woody desperately
needs money to pay for a proper engagement ring
for Kelly, so he takes on a grueling second job.
As a gravedigger. Yes, a gravedigger. We are
really leaning heavily into the death themes
this season. We really are. Between Frasier's
will, the funeral flash forward, and now digging
graves. It's everywhere. So Woody is working
nights in a cemetery, physically digging holes
in the ground. He is completely exhausted. He's
covered in filth. And the primary conflict is
that he has to formally meet Kelly's intimidating
grandmother, who is played by the amazing Celeste
Holm. So he's desperately trying to be presentable
and charming for this high society matriarch
while literally smelling like an open grave.
It is physical comedy gold. Woody Harrelson is
just so incredibly good at playing bone -tired
exhaustion. But beneath the comedy, it really
emphasizes his deep devotion to Kelly. He is
willing to literally dig ditches in the middle
of the night just to be worthy of marrying her.
And all of this careful buildup leads directly
to the massive season finale, an old -fashioned
wedding. The double -length season closer. And
looking at the reception data provided in the
sources, this wasn't just a television episode.
This was a cultural event. It truly was. We have
to look at the raw ratings here. This single
episode drew nearly 33 million viewers. Specifically,
32 .9 million. 32 .9 million people tuned in
at the exact same time. That is nearly a third
of the entire television viewing population of
the country. It was by far the highest rated
episode of the season. Wow. It just completely
proves that the audience was deeply emotionally
invested in Woody's happiness. Over the course
of 10 years, he had basically become the lovable
little brother to the entire American viewing
public. And the wedding itself. Did they actually
give him the perfect fairy tale ending? Of course
not. It's Cheers. It was absolute, unmitigated
chaos. Carla predicts early on that it's going
to be a disaster. And she's entirely right. You
had angry mobsters hiding in the kitchen. You
had a very confused German translator causing
massive communication issues. You even had a
dead minister again with the death motif. It
is a serious recurring motif this year. But despite
all the farce and the disaster, the wedding actually
happens. Woody grows up. He officially becomes
a husband. Right. While Sam is still just standing
behind the bar serving beers, his former protege,
Woody, has completely surpassed him in major
life milestones. That's a really sharp contrast.
The young apprentice completely outgrowing the
older mentor. Exactly. Now, we absolutely cannot
talk about season 10 without dedicating some
time to the Cranes. Frasier and Lilith, they're
such a dominant power couple on the show. But
this season, the writers really start peeling
back the layers of Frasier's past. And we suddenly
find out he wasn't always this stuffy, buttoned
up... psychiatrist. No, he wasn't. This is really
where we get into expanding the deep lore of
Frasier Crane. The episode one hugs, the other
doesn't, drops an absolute bombshell on the audience.
The famous Nanny Gee episode. Yes. Nanny Gee
is this wildly famous children's singer in the
universe of the show. Think of someone like Raffi,
but vastly more intense and theatrical. She comes
to Boston to perform a concert for their son
Frederick's birthday. And she is played by none
other than Emma Thompson. You're just casually
racking up the Academy Award winners in this
cast list. Emma Thompson playing a manic children's
singer. It is a total tour de force performance
from her. She is incredibly manic. She's hilarious.
She commands the room. But the plot reveal is
the real kicker here. It turns out Nanny Gee
isn't just some random performer Frazier hired
out of the phone book. She's actually Frazier's
first wife. His first wife. So Frazier was fully
married to someone else before Lilith. He was.
Back in his early medical school days, he had
this brief, wild, bohemian marriage to this exact
woman. And in classic conflict -avoidant Frazier
fashion, he somehow just forgot to mention this
tiny little detail to Lilith. Oh, Frazier. That
is an absolute death wish. You do not hide major
life secrets from the old sternum. It predictably
results in a spectacular physical cat fight between
the two women. But beyond the slapstick comedy
of the fight, this episode is structurally crucial
because it completely expands the character of
Frasier. How so? It shows us that he actually
had a rich, complex life. Long before he ever
walked into the bar, he had a wild side. He has
secrets. It really sets the narrative stage for
his own spinoff later on, doesn't it? It proves
he has enough depth. It absolutely does. It proves
to the network and the audience that Frasier
Crane can easily carry a complex story that is
completely separate from Sam or the rest of the
bar patrons. The sources also mention another
family expansion for Lilith in an episode called
Smotherly Love. Yes, that's the episode where
they finally introduce Lilith's overbearing mother
during a vow renewal ceremony. Again, just building
out the world of the Cranes. And then they also
have to deal with Norm as a terrible house guest
in the Norm who came to dinner after he injures
his back painting their living room. Right, right.
And speaking of expanding the universe, we definitely
have to mention the big network crossover event.
In the episode License to Hill, Frazier casually
mentions he's taking a trip. Right. He mentions
he's taking a quick flight over to Nantucket.
Now, if you were just casually watching Cheers
in a vacuum, that's just a totally throwaway
line of dialogue. But if you were sitting on
your couch watching NBC that specific Thursday
night, you knew exactly where he was going. He
was flying directly into the show Wings. Yes.
The episode titled Planes, Trains, and Visiting
Cranes aired on Wings that exact same night.
I love that so much. The early NBC cinematic
universe. It makes the fictional world feel so
incredibly real. Like you could just get on a
plane in the Cheers universe and literally land
in the Wings universe. It was a brilliantly executed
marketing strategy by NBC, part of that whole
must -see TV branding, but it also deeply rewarded
the loyal viewer. It made you feel like you were
part of this exclusive club that understood the
inside joke. So we've covered the major romances,
the giant weddings, the secret past wives. Now
we have to zoom out and talk about the overall
texture of the show, the daily bar life. Because
Cheers isn't just about the two leads. It's about
the entire ensemble. And the notes indicate that
Season 10 kept the classic traditions alive.
Specifically, the Bar Wars. Oh, Bar Wars was
the sacred annual tradition. The escalating prank
war with their rival, Gary's Old Town Tavern.
It's basically the Super Bowl for the bar regulars.
It really is. And in Season 10, the writers actually
give us two doses of it. First, there's Bar Wars
V. The Final Judgment, which is a Halloween -themed
episode where the notes say Sam may have gone
a little too far with a prank involving a fake
murder. A fake murder. Again, with the death
theme. I'm telling you, the writers were clearly
working through some heavy existential dread
that year. Clearly. But then, later in the season,
we get Bar Wars 6. This time, it's for real.
The inciting incident here is that Gary finally
sells his bar. The true end of an era. Or so
they think. The gang immediately decides to intensely
haze the new owner. But they realize way too
late that the new owner isn't just some random
guy off the street. And this whole setup leads
to one of the most highly specific political
cameos in the show's entire history. Right. The
cameo by Senator John Kerry. Senator John Kerry
appearing on camera as himself in the pre -credits
sequence. Now. Obviously, keeping our neutral
hats on here, we are just looking at this as
a piece of media history. This is 1991 John Kerry.
He is the sitting senator from Massachusetts
at the time. He's not a presidential candidate
yet, but still, purely from a production standpoint,
why him? It's entirely about grounding the show
in its physical setting. You have to remember,
Cheers was entirely filmed on a closed soundstage
in Los Angeles, California. It wasn't shot in
Boston. So the producers constantly needed these
little authentic touches to remind the audience,
hey, don't forget, we are supposed to be in Boston.
Having the actual sitting Massachusetts senator
walk through the door creates that instant verisimilitude.
It's a lot like when the actual mayor of New
York shows up on an episode of Seinfeld. It makes
the city itself feel like a living, breathing
character in the ensemble. Exactly. It's geographical
shorthand. And speaking of true Boston institutions,
we definitely cannot forget Carla Tortelli. Aside
from accurately predicting absolute disaster
at Woody's wedding, what is her main arc this
season? She actually has a very weird, almost
mystical arc early on in Madame La Carla. Her
personal psychic decides to retire and actually
selects Carla to formally succeed her as a psychic.
You know, Carla as a psychic actually makes perfect
sense to me. She's already... Deeply suspicious
of absolutely everything and everyone. She definitely
has that dark, cynical intuition. But her major
ongoing conflict this season is with the upstairs
neighbor, John Allen Hill. He's the guy who owns
Melville's, the incredibly fancy seafood restaurant
located directly above the bar. And they just
absolutely hate each other. They profoundly despise
each other. He's this massive, condescending
snob. And she's, well, she's Carla. In the episode
Head Over Hill, she meticulously sets out to
completely humiliate him. It's a classic, straightforward
revenge setup. But then the writers throw in
a massive twist. Let me guess. She ends up sleeping
with him. Kara, sleeping with the enemy. It is
such a great character complication. She hates
his guts, but she is undeniably physically attracted
to him. It adds this great layer of messy complexity
to her character. Yeah. It shows the audience
that her constant burning anger is very often
just a protective mask for intense passion. And
the deep overriding shame she feels about sleeping
with him is actually way funnier than the feud
itself ever was. The notes also mention her son
going through some major life changes in My Son
the Father. Yes, her son initially enters the
priesthood, which is a big deal for her, but
then abruptly pivots his career path to become
a male model. Just a slight career pivot there.
Just a minor change in direction. And we also
have to touch on Cliff Clavin, the resident Barneau
et al. The notes show he actually has a major
brush with greatness this season. Yes. In the
episode, here's Cliffy. Cliff writes a joke.
And he becomes... Utterly and completely convinced
that he has successfully sold this joke to The
Tonight Show. Ah, the tragic, enduring hope of
Cliff Clavin. He always genuinely thinks he is
just one single step away from nationwide fame.
He really does. He actually buys plane tickets.
He flies all the way to Burbank, California.
He goes straight to the studio taping. And this
whole plot line gives us a massive cameo from
the absolute king of late night himself. Johnny
Carson. Johnny Carson appearing on a primetime
sitcom. That is a massive deal for 1991. It was
a gargantuan get for the producers. Carson was
notoriously private and incredibly picky about
his outside appearances. For him to formally
agree to appear on Cheers really speaks to the
overwhelming cultural dominance of the show at
that time. Yeah. It was essentially a public
tip of the hat from one television legend to
another. It's the undisputed king of late night
formally acknowledging the undisputed king of
the sitcoms. Precisely. And Cliff also gets a
more grounded storyline in a diminished Rebecca
with a suspended Cliff where he has to deal with
deep unhappiness regarding the new United States
postal uniforms, which is just such a perfectly
mundane Cliff storyline. Just to quickly round
out the pure Boston flavor of the season, the
source material highlights an appearance by Kevin
McHale from the Boston Celtics. Yes, in the episode
Where Have All the Floorboards Gone, Kevin McHale
appears, but critically, he is not shown playing
basketball. Instead, he becomes bizarrely obsessed
with counting the exact number of bolts in the
floorboards of the Boston Garden. It's such a
weirdly specific, trivial obsession for a pro
athlete to have. Which is exactly why it fits
so perfectly into the universe of Cheers. Because
everyone sitting in that bar is deeply obsessed
with something trivial. Kevin McHale fit right
into that specific neurotic energy. They also
had Harry Connick Jr. guest star as Woody's cousin,
who develops a massive crush on Rebecca. So they
were just absolutely packing the season with
star power. So we've looked at the major plots.
We've looked at the underlying themes. Now let's
just look at the overall scoreboard one more
time. We mentioned earlier that the wedding finale
got nearly 33 million viewers. But was the rest
of the season genuinely strong or was that just
a finale bump? It was incredibly consistent from
start to finish. If you look at the viewership
trends provided in the source material, the season
premiere alone had 31 .4 million viewers. Wow.
And even the absolute low points of the season
were still pulling in around 22 million. 22 million
viewers as a low point. That is just incomprehensible
today. Most regular episodes hovered very comfortably
between 24 and 30 million. That kind of rock
solid consistency in a show's 10th year on the
air is basically unheard of in television history.
Right. It fundamentally proves that the writing
room was still incredibly sharp. The characters
were still naturally evolving. And the American
audience still considered these fictional people
to be a part of their own family. So synthesizing
all of this information from our deep dive today,
what does this all actually mean? When we look
back at the totality of season 10. It's clear
it wasn't just a show lazily treading water.
No, absolutely not. It was a season of massive
expansion. They successfully expanded the lore
of the world with characters like Nanny Gee and
Lilith's mother. They dramatically expanded the
emotional range of the leads with the heavy Sam
and Rebecca baby arc. They successfully married
off Woody. Yeah. They were still actively building
new rooms onto the house, even as they were slowly
getting ready to prominently close the front
door in season 11. It really emphasizes that
village feel we were talking about. Yeah. You're
not just tuning in every week to see what Sam
is up to. You're tuning in for the entire ecosystem
of the bar. One week, it's a Frasier heavy episode.
The next week, it's a Carla episode. Exactly.
And that rotating ecosystem is exactly what kept
the format feeling so fresh and kept people coming
back year after year. You know, before we wrap
up today, I really want to leave you, the listener,
with one final sort of provocative thought to
chew on. We talked extensively about that flash
-forward scene in episode 11, the one set at
Fraser's funeral. Right, the perfectly average
sperm count reveal. Think about what that scene
actually implies for the entire universe of the
show. In a sitcom that is so deeply grounded
in the present moment, the day -to -day trivial
grind of hanging out in a bar, the writers actively
chose to show us the literal, definitive end
of Frasier Crane's life just to deliver a punchline
about Sam's vanity. Right. But if you look beneath
the joke, there's something else there. It heavily
implies that the core dynamic of Cheers Sam Lilith
Regulars, the bar itself, is arguably the single
most permanent thing in these characters' lives.
That is a really profound point to make. Think
about it. They get married. The marriages fail.
They have big careers. They eventually retire.
But the physical bar, the bar is always going
to be there. That damn bar, exactly as Lilith
says of the funeral, is their anchor in life,
but it's also arguably their chain. It's a beautiful,
if maybe a slightly melancholic observation.
The place where everybody knows your name ultimately
becomes the one place you can never really leave.
Even decades later, even in death, they are entirely
defined by their relationship to that room. Exactly.
It's a surprisingly haunting little existential
note to leave inside a network comedy. But honestly,
that kind of depth is exactly what made Cheers
such a legendary show in the first place. Well,
that brings us to the end of this deep dive.
We really hope you enjoyed this extensive trip
back to 1991. It was an absolute pleasure to
revisit the source material with you. Next time
you're flipping channels and watching old reruns,
keep a close eye out for those specific cameos
we discussed today. Spot Senator John Kerry,
spot Emma Thompson playing Nanny Gee, and just
take a moment to appreciate the incredible craft
that went into keeping this massive television
machine running at absolute full speed right
when it should have been running on empty fumes.
Absolutely. Well said. Thanks so much for listening,
and we will catch you on the next Deep Dive.