Welcome back to the Deep Dive. Today we are firing
up the time machine and setting the dial to a
very specific moment in pop culture history.
We are going to 1995. 1995, yeah, a fascinating
year. I mean, the internet was just becoming
a household concept. Right. Windows 95 had the
Rolling Stones singing Start Me Up. And television
was effectively the center of the universe. It
really was. You know, you didn't stream things.
You sat down on Thursday night or you just missed
out on the conversation at work the next day.
Exactly. And the landscape was completely dominated
by NBC. You had the must -see TV lineup. Seinfeld
was in its prime. I think the Soup Nazi aired
this year. It did, yeah. Friends was exploding
with the Ross and Rachel saga. And sitting right
there in the middle of this powerhouse lineup
was a show entering its third year. A show about
a psychiatrist, his brother, his dad, and a Jack
Russell terrier. We are talking, of course, about
Frasier. Yeah. Now, I have to admit, when I think
of Frasier, I tend to mush all the seasons together
in my head. Sure. Yeah. A lot of people do. I
see the apartment. I hear the jazz. I see Niles
wiping off a chair. But our source material today,
which is a... really comprehensive deep dive
into the Wikipedia entry for Frasier season three
suggests that this season is actually really
distinct. It is. It's not just more of the same.
So our mission today is to explore how this specific
season marked a massive shift in the show's history.
No, absolutely not. More of the same. And that's
why this is going to be such an interesting conversation.
I mean, if you look at the trajectory of a sitcom,
the first two seasons are usually about construction.
Building the foundation. Exactly. You build the
set. You establish that Frasier is pompous, Niles
is fastidious, Martin is grumpy, and Daphne is
psychic. You're basically teaching the audience
the rules of the world. Right, you're setting
up the pins. Setting up the pins. But season
three, season three is where the writers decided
to start knocking them down. Wow. They take these
carefully built characters and they just start
deconstructing them. They put them in situations
that completely break their usual patterns. We're
going to see the disintegration of a marriage
that we thought would just be a running joke
forever. Absolutely. We're going to see Frasier
humiliated in ways that frankly make me cringe
just thinking about them. And we are going to
see ghosts from the past literally walking through
the door. It's the season of high opera and low
farce. Yeah. It's really where the show found
that specific unique rhythm that separated it
completely from Cheers. So help me set the scene
here for the listener. The season aired from
September 19th, 1995 to May 21st, 1996. That's
right. And for the super fans out there, our
source material points out a really cool visual
shift right off the bat. Yes, the title card.
Right. For the first two seasons, the Frasier
text was a different color. In season three,
they switched it to that iconic turquoise. It's
a small detail I know, but it signals a fresh
coat of paint. Which is fitting. Yeah. The core
casts, of course, remain the same. You've got
Kelsey Grammer, Jane Leaves, David Hyde Pierce,
Perry Gilpin, and John Mahoney. But the energy,
the energy was just different. Okay, let's unpack
that energy. Because usually, you know, when
a show wants to shake things up, they bring in
a new character to disrupt the status quo. And
in season three, KACL got a new station manager.
Right. Enter Kate Costas. Played by Mercedes
Rule. Now, I know her from The Fisher King, where
she was just a force of nature. She's an Oscar
winner. And that's actually really important
because she brings a dramatic weight that matches
Kelsey Grammer perfectly. That makes sense. Looking
at the character profile from the text, Kate
is described as... A fearsome perfectionist.
This isn't just, you know, a quirky boss who
doesn't get the joke. She's a real threat. She
is a formidable opponent. She inspires absolute
terror in her subordinates. And the conflict
starts immediately. In the premiere episode,
she's the boss. She comes in and listens to Frazier's
show. And she's just not impressed. Not at all.
She basically tells him, you're boring. Nobody
wants to hear this dry clinical advice. Which
is the ultimate insult to Frazier. I mean, he
sees himself as a serious clinician. bringing
mental health to the masses. Right, he's a healer.
Exactly. And Kate. Kate wants juicier calls.
She wants themed shows. She wants showmanship.
And when Fraser refuses, because of course he
refuses, he's a snob, she doesn't just yell at
him, she banishes him. To the graveyard shift.
Oh, man. 2 a .m. to 5 a .m. That is brutal. It
is. And it's a brilliant tactical move by the
writers. By moving Fraser to the middle of the
night, They attack him on a physiological level.
He's exhausted. He's tired. He's grumpy. His
voice is raspy. But more importantly, it makes
Roz deeply resentful. Oh, Roz must have hated
that shift. She was furious. So now Frazier isn't
just fighting his boss. Yeah. He's dealing with
a producer who wants to kill him because she
can't have a social life anymore. It creates
this intense pressure cooker environment. But
it's not all grim corporate warfare, right? This
hostility leads to one of the funniest episodes
of the entire series. Episode 4, Leapin' Lizards.
Oh, the prank war. This is the prank war episode.
This is a total classic. It starts with Bulldog
Dan Butler's character, who's usually the one
doing the pranking. Right, the sports guy. Yeah,
and he targets Frasier. And Frasier, who prides
himself on his dignity, just completely unravels.
Completely. There is that moment, I think it's
one of the most famous clips from the show, where
Frasier is live on air and he thinks he's alone
or he's trying to fix something with the equipment.
Yeah. And he ends up singing Three Little Maids
from the Mikado. In a falsetto? The piercing
falsetto! Three little maids from school, are
we? Is the sound of a man losing his mind. It
really is. It's so funny. But here's where the
Kate Costas arc intersects with the prank war.
Frasier decides he's done being the victim. He
wants to retaliate against Bulldog. Okay. So,
using his superior intellect, he devises a plan.
He hides a lizard in a raffle box that Bulldog
is supposed to open. But this is Frasier. The
laws of physics in this universe dictate that
if you set a trap, the exact wrong person will
walk into it. Correct. Bulldog doesn't open the
box. Oh, no. Kate does. That is a disaster. She
opens the box, screams, and absolute chaos ensues.
And this is crucial because this escalation of
hostility, the screaming, the pranks, the late
nights, it lays all the groundwork for the big
twist. Right. Because in the world of high -tension
sitcoms, hate. is very close to love. Or at least
very close to lust. Precisely. Which brings us
to the whole bad boy and dirty girl saga. This
spans two episodes, actually. Episodes six and
seven. Sleeping with the Enemy and the Adventures
of Bad Boy and Dirty Girl. Yeah, the setup is
classic labor relations. Kate refuses to give
the support staff their annual 5 % raise. Okay.
The staff is furious, but they are terrified
of her. So they push Frazier to the front. They're
like, you're the talent. You talk to her. So
Frazier marches into her office to demand the
raise. He's ready for a fight. And they do fight.
They are screaming at each other. It's visceral.
Yeah. And then suddenly the switch flips. Yeah.
The shouting turns into growl. And they are making
out on the desk. It's a total hate sex dynamic.
Which makes perfect sense for Frazier. He's often
attracted to women who challenge him intellectually,
even if they drive him absolutely crazy. But
the real comedy gold comes in the next episode,
right? The studio scene. The studio scene. They
decide to have a tryst in the broadcast booth
at the station. Which they firmly believe is
soundproof and off -air. Right. Frazier, being
Frazier, thinks he has secured the perimeter.
But he misses one crucial detail. The on -air
light. Oh, God. So they are in there and they
are vocal. Extremely vocal. Kate is saying things
like, you're a bad boy. And Frazier is responding
with, you're a dirty girl. And this is being
broadcast to all of Seattle. Imagine driving
home in the rain in Seattle, tuning in to hear
Dr. Crane's soothing advice and hearing that.
It destroys his reputation completely. He goes
from being the pompous erudite psychiatrist to
bad boy. I love this scene where he realizes
it. The look on Kelsey Grammer's face when he
realizes the microphone was hot. It's pure horror.
And the fallout is humiliating. Martin and Daphne
are shocked. Niles is so distressed by the news
that he literally crashes his car. Really? Yeah.
And Kate has to formally suspend Frazier to save
face for the station. But even the suspension
doesn't cool things down completely. They end
up trapped in a service lift together later on.
Yes. And of course, because the universe loves
to mock Frasier, there is a bed in the lift.
And musk oil. It's like a farce construction
kit. Just add water. It really is. But what stands
out to me here is the resolution in episode 10.
Kate announces she's moving to Chicago. Right.
And there's a moment at the airport where Frasier
wonders, was this just a fling? Or was it something
more? Did they make a mistake letting it go?
That's a real question. He ultimately lets her
go. But I think this arc was crucial for the
season. If we connect this to the bigger picture
of Frasier's character development, Kate Costas
was the first woman to really force Frasier to
confront someone who was his intellectual equal,
but also held professional power over him. Yeah,
that's a great point. It challenged his ego in
a way we hadn't seen before. It wasn't just about
romance. It was about dominance. And he lost.
He did. He really did. Speaking of losing and
speaking of dominance, we have to talk about
the other major pillar of season three. Probably
the most significant event in the entire series
up to this point. Oh, yeah. The disintegration
of the Crane marriage. Niles and Maris. The Invisible
Empire. For two whole seasons, Maris was this
brilliant punchline. She was just a collection
of symptoms and eccentricities. She was frail.
She was cold. She was demanding. But she was
Niles' wife. She was his connection to the upper
crust. And in season three, the writers decided
to pull the plug on that. It starts with episode
eight, The Last Time I Saw Maris. Which, by the
way, the title alone sounds like a noir film.
It does. And the setup is incredibly serious.
Maris goes missing. She's been gone for three
days. Wow. Niles is frantic. He's pacing the
apartment. He's convinced she's been kidnapped.
I'm imagining her locked in a trunk somewhere.
He's genuinely terrified. And then the police
call. Or rather, the credit card company calls.
So she wasn't kidnapped? No. Her credit card
has been active. Yeah. Extremely active. She
is on a massive shopping spree in New York City.
While Niles is dying inside, she's buying handbags.
Exactly. And Frazier is incensed by this. He
sees the absolute callousness of it. Niles was
suffering and she didn't even bother to call.
Right. So Frazier urges Niles to stand up for
himself, to confront her selfishness. And this
is a classic be careful what you wish for moment,
right? Because Niles finally gathers the courage.
He confronts her. And instead of apologizing,
instead of realizing she was wrong. She throws
him out. Just like that. She demands a divorce.
That must have been a massive shock for the audience
back in 1995. It was seismic. Because Niles defined
himself by that marriage. He was Maris' husband.
Without that, who is he? He ends up moving in
with Frasier, which shifts the entire domestic
dynamic of the show completely. Now you have
Frasier, Martin, Daphne, and a heartbroken, neurotic
Niles all under one roof. And Niles is in this
weird limbo. He's separated, but not legally
divorced. He's lonely, but he's still technically
married. And he gets left out of all these high
profile social events because of the separation,
which we see in episode 12, Come Why With Me.
Right. He loses his social standing. And we really
see the psychological toll this takes in episode
18, Chest Pains. Ah, the dog episode. Yes. Daphne,
trying to be helpful, suggests Niles get a dog
for companionship. Because a dog is unconditional
love, right? In theory. So Niles goes out and
gets a dog. But he doesn't get a golden retriever,
he gets a whippet. I need you to describe this
dog for listeners who haven't seen it recently.
Oh, it is the most neurotic animal ever committed
to film. It is extremely thin, it's shivering
constantly, and it refuses to eat. It just sits
on the couch and vibrates with anxiety. And it
ignores every single command Niles gives it.
Yes. Because it is a literal, physical stand
-in for Maris. Niles has unconsciously replaced
his cold, unresponsive, high -strung wife with
a cold, unresponsive, high -strung dog. It's
hilarious, but when you stop laughing, it's actually
deeply sad. It is tragic. It highlights Niall's
inability to let go of that specific toxic dynamic.
He is recreating his own trauma because it's
what he knows. He literally doesn't know how
to be in a relationship that isn't punishing.
But, and this is a really big but, we do get
a glimmer of hope. A moment that I think every
Frasier fan has burned into their memory. Episode
13, Moondance. This is the centerpiece of the
season, in my opinion. Yeah. And it's really
noteworthy that it was the first episode. directed
by Kelsey Grammer himself. Oh, really? Yeah.
He clearly knew this was a pivotal moment for
the series. So set the stage for us. What happens?
Well, Maris is pictured in the society pages
with another man. Ouch. Niles is crushed. He
feels humiliated. He wants to prove to society
and to Maris that he isn't mourning. So he decides
to go to the snowball. Which is this huge high
society gala. Exactly. He arranges a date with
an heiress, but she cancels at the very last
minute. Niles is desperate. He can't show up
alone. So Daphne steps in. Daphne, who has been
helping him with his ballroom dancing lessons.
Right. She agrees to be his date for the evening.
Now to the rest of the party. They are trying
to put on a show. They're pretending to be a
couple. just to save Niles' face. And Daphne
looks absolutely stunning in this red dress.
She does. And Niles, I feel like this is the
first time we see Niles not as the fussy little
brother, but as a genuine romantic lead. Yes.
The lighting in this episode is different, too.
It's warmer, it's softer. And then comes... The
tango. The tango scene. They step onto the floor,
and usually when Niles dances, it's funny, he's
stiff, or he's awkward. But here, he is incredibly
passionate. He really takes control. The chemistry
is off the charts. You can practically feel the
heat coming off the screen. And in the heat of
that dance, with the music swelling, Niles declares
his adoration for her. He says, I love you. He
lays it all out. He says everything he has been
holding back for three years. And Daphne reciprocates.
She says it back. Which is huge. And for a split
second, the audience thinks, this is it. It's
happening. They're getting together. But then
the music stops. And Daphne smiles and says something
like, we really fooled them, didn't we? Oh, it's
a dagger to the heart. She thinks it was all
part of the act. She thinks he's just a really
good actor, completely committed to the ruse.
And Niles just stands there breathless. He realizes
she misunderstood. And in that moment, he has
a choice. Right. Does he correct her? Does he
grab her shoulders and say, no, Daphne, I really
love you? He doesn't. He pulls back. He retreats
into safety. Why? Why didn't he just say it?
Fear. Rejection. The timing. I mean, he's still
married. Technically, it's messy. But the episode
ends with a really significant step. What happens?
Another woman at the ball, a society woman, saw
him dancing. She saw his passion. And she comes
over and gives him her card. And Niles accepts
it. He accepts it. And he says something to Daphne
like, I think I'm going to be okay. It signals
that while he deeply loves Daphne, he is starting
to accept that his marriage to Maris is truly
over. He's moving on. He is taking a step toward
independence. It's a beautiful, bittersweet arc.
It really is. It's moments like that which elevate
the show way above a standard sitcom. But of
course, while Niles is dealing with heartbreak
and growth, Frasier is dealing with, well, Frasier.
Frasier is dealing with his own worst enemy,
his ego. Which brings us to section three of
our dive, Frasier's social struggles. And honestly,
nothing encapsulates Frasier's neuroses quite
like... Episode 23, The Focus Group. Oh, this
one is painful. This is cringe comedy before
that was even a common term. So the station holds
a focus group to evaluate Frasier's show, and
Frasier is watching them from behind a two -way
mirror. There are 12 people in the room. 11 of
them give absolutely glowing reviews. They say
things like, he's articulate, he's smart, he
has a great voice. Most people would take that
and go celebrate. 11 out of 12 is an A+. But
there is one man. Manu. Played by the brilliant
Tony Shellhoob. Oh, Tony Shellhoob is so good
in this. And Manu just doesn't like him. He just
shrugs. He says, I just don't like him. He can't
even articulate why. He just finds Frasier annoying.
And Frasier completely spirals. He ignores the
11 compliments and becomes dangerously obsessed
with this one guy. He cannot handle the disapproval.
He essentially stalks Manu. He finds him at his
newsstand. And he accidentally burns down the
newsstand. Wait, he burns it down? Through a
series of incredibly clumsy mishaps while trying
to confront the guy. Yes, he destroys this man's
livelihood. All because he couldn't accept that
one person found him annoying. It's the ultimate
fragility. He even ruins Roz's delight in the
good ratings because he needs universal love.
It's Frasier's Achilles heel. Yeah. He tries
so hard to be liked that he becomes entirely
unlikable. We see a similar theme in episode
11, The Friend. This one actually hurts me personally
because it's really about the realization of
loneliness. Yeah. Fraser realizes he has no actual
friends in Seattle. Niles has his social circle,
or did. Martin has his buddies at Duke's. Fraser
has Roz, but that's work. So he decides to befriend
a caller, Bob, played by Griffin Dunn. On paper,
Fraser thinks, I can mold this. I can make a
friend out of this guy. But the reality is Bob.
Bob is rustic. Bob is a photographer, which sounds
artsy, but he takes pictures for a discount store
flyer. Bob likes barbecue. Bob wears a Tam O'Shanter
hat. And Fraser is just horrified. He realizes
instantly that they have absolutely nothing in
common. He wants to dump him immediately. But,
and here is the trap, Bob uses a wheelchair.
And there it is. Frazier, the liberal humanist,
cannot dump a man in a wheelchair because he's
terrified of looking like a bad person. So he
stays in a friendship that makes him completely
miserable. He suffers through the barbecue. He
suffers through the boring conversations. It's
the collision of his snobbery and his performative
morality. He cares way more about appearing good.
than being honest. But if we're talking about
disasters, if we're talking about Frasier's ego
writing checks as reality can't cash, we absolutely
have to talk about episode 16, Look Before You
Leap. The Buttons and Bows episode. This is legendary.
It's leap day. Frasier, feeling very philosophical,
decides that everyone in his life is in a rut.
So he encourages everyone to take a leap. Do
something bold. Shake up your life. He plays
the benevolent god, handing out life advice to
everyone. He tells Martin to fly to Montana for
a friend's birthday, even though Martin strongly
hates flying. He tells Daphne to change her hairstyle.
And he decides he is going to sing a challenging
aria from Verdi's Rigoletto on the PBS Pledge
Drive telethon. Rigoletto is not easy. It's serious,
complex opera. It requires breath control, precision,
perfect Italian diction. Right. But then... The
reports start coming in. Martin's plane makes
a traumatic emergency landing. He genuinely thought
he was going to die. Daphne comes home with a
haircut that she absolutely hates. She looks
like a total frizzball. She is weeping. Fraser
sees the incredible carnage she has caused, and
suddenly he loses his nerve. He realizes, I can't
do Rigoletto. I'm going to fail. So at the very
last second, right before he goes on air, he
switches the song. He decides to sing Buttons
and Bows. A light, fun American classic. East
is east and west is west. Very simple. Except
he hasn't rehearsed it and he doesn't know the
lyrics. And what follows is two minutes of absolute
physical comedy genius by Kelsey Grammer. The
piano starts, he steps up to the mic, and his
mind just goes totally blank. He starts sweating
profusely, he's wiping his forehead, and the
lyrics he invents, he says something like, East
is West and West is East and something in a taco
show. Hippity -hoppity -bippity -boppity. He
just starts making noises. He looks like a deer
in headlights who is also actively having a stroke.
And the choir behind him is looking at him with
pure, unadulterated confusion. It is a total
train wreck. But the absolute cherry on top is
the cutaway to the apartment. Martin and Daphne
are sitting there on the couch. They are traumatized
by their own leaps. They are miserable. But then
they see Frasier dying on live TV. And they start
laughing. They are laughing so hard. It's literally
the only thing that cheers them up. It's the
perfect comeuppance. Frasier tries to play God
with people's lives and the universe smacks him
down with a forgotten lyric. It really underlines
the theme of class versus reality that runs through
this entire season. Frazier attempts high culture
like the opera or his wine clubs. And reality,
whether it's bursting gas pipes, bad haircuts,
or memory loss, always wins. Now, while Frazier
is flailing, Martin Crane is actually having
a pretty interesting season. He is. Martin often
plays the straight man, the grounded one in the
apartment. But season three really gives him
some hidden depths. We see that he's not just
a retired cop. He has an artistic soul. Let's
look at episode three, Martin Does It His Way.
Frazier's aunt dies, Aunt Louise, someone they
didn't really like at all, and Frazier has to
do the eulogy. But the subplot here is lovely.
Martin reveals he has a shoebox full of songs
he wrote for Frank Sinatra. Wait, Martin Crain
wrote songs for Sinatra? In his mind, yes. He
was a huge fan. He wrote lyrics, hoping that
one day old blue eyes would sing them. Lady with
the spun glass hair, that kind of thing. But
the problem is he only wrote the lyrics. He doesn't
have the music. So in a very rare moment of collaboration.
Fraser and Niall step up. They sit down at the
piano and help him compose the music. It's a
really sweet image. The three crane men, who
usually can't even agree on what to eat for dinner,
are making music together. Even if the song is
terrible, which frankly it is, it's a beautiful
moment of connection. And then we see his intellectual
side in chest pains. We mentioned the dog in
this episode earlier. But the main plot is actually
about chess. Frazier buys this magnificent, antique,
19th century Parisian chess set. Designed by
a student of Lacan de Boussard, naturally. He
buys it strictly as a status symbol. And he wants
to play. Martin says, I don't really know the
game. The horse jumps over the thing, right?
And then Martin sits down and proceeds to wipe
the floor with Frazier. Checkmate in five moves.
Frazier cannot handle it. It challenges his entire
worldview. Because in Frazier's mind, he is the
smart one. He is the intellectual. Martin is
the regular guy who drinks beer and watches sports.
If Martin is better at chess, which is the ultimate
intellectual game, then who is Frazier? Frazier
becomes completely obsessed. He wakes Martin
up in the middle of the night for rematches.
He analyzes the board. He sets up the sock of
suspicion over the smoke detector so he can smoke
cigars and think in his room. Finally, Martin
realizes that this is literally destroying his
son. Yeah. So he throws a game. He makes a deliberate
mistake so Frazier can win. Does Frazier realize
he threw it? He suspects it, but his ego happily
allows him to accept the win anyway. It's a great
reversal of power. Martin proves he has this
sharp strategic mind, likely from his years as
a detective, that Frazier completely underestimates.
Martin also gets a bit of romance in episode
20, Police Story. This one is incredibly awkward.
Frasier gets pulled over by an attractive cop,
Maureen, played by Jane Kaczmarek. Who would
go on to be the mom in Malcolm in the Middle.
Right. And Frasier thinks she's letting him off
the ticket because she's attracted to him. He
thinks, I've still got it. He tries to set up
a date. He meets her at a bar. But Maureen isn't
looking at Frasier at all. She's looking at Martin.
Ouch. Yeah, she likes the dad. She likes the
ex -cop. Martin tries to spare Frasier's feelings
at first. He tries to say, no, I can't do that
to my son. But eventually, he dates her. It reinforces
that Martin is actually quite charming and very
comfortable in his own skin, whereas Frasier
is often trying way too hard. Martin doesn't
have to quote Freud to get a date. He just has
to be himself. Exactly. Now, we promised ghosts
from the past earlier. And in season three, the
biggest ghost of them all walks into KACL. Diane
Chambers. Shelley Long returns in episode 14,
the show where Diane comes back. This is a massive
moment for the franchise. You have to remember,
for viewers in 1995, Diane Chambers was a titan.
She was the reason Frasier Crane even existed
on TV. She was the love of his life on Cheers,
and she left him at the altar in Italy. That's
a very heavy backstory to bring into a sitcom.
It's the defining trauma of his romantic life.
So she shows up at the radio station, and Frasier,
how does he react? Does he scream? Does he hide?
He invites her to dinner. Of course he does.
Why? Hubris. Pure hubris. He wants to win the
breakup. He wants to show her, look at me. I'm
famous. I'm rich. I have a radio show. I have
a custom -made suit. Look at you gave up. He
wants to flaunt his success. Exactly. But at
dinner, the dynamic shifts completely. Diane
breaks down. She starts twitching. A tick develops
in her eye. She admits her life is an absolute
disaster. She's lost her job. She's lost her
money. And Frazier, showing that soft underbelly
he always has, actually feels sorry for her.
He does. He's a healer at heart. Yeah. She tells
him she's written a play and she desperately
needs a producer. So Fraser agrees to back her
play. Which turns out to be a terrible idea because
what is the play actually about? The play is
a thinly veiled retelling of her time at the
bar in Boston. Yeah. It's Cheers, but entirely
through Diane's warped perspective. How are the
characters portrayed? The source material says
they are depicted as boorish and uncivilized
ruffians. So Sam Malone, Woody, Norm. They are
played as villains. Literal animals. And Frasier?
How does she see Frasier? In her play, the Frasier
character is cold and completely unfeeling. She
rewrites history. In reality, she left him. But
in the play, he abandons her. She makes herself
the victim and him the monster. That has to hurt.
To see yourself portrayed that way by the woman
you love so much? It cuts very deep. He explodes
during the rehearsal. But here is the expert
analysis from the sources. This episode was entirely
necessary. It serves as a bridge between the
two series. By seeing Diane's delusions, by seeing
how she aggressively twists reality to protect
her own fragile ego, Fraser can finally close
the book on that chapter. He realizes he didn't
lose the love of his life. He dodged a bullet.
Or at least he realizes that the Diane he loved
was partly a fantasy. He sees her clearly, maybe
for the very first time. It provides closure.
Messy, very expensive closure. The best kind
of closure. Absolutely. Now, we can't talk about
Frasier without mentioning the voices on the
other end of the line. Season three had a real
who's who of 90s celebrity callers. It really
did. It became a huge thing in Hollywood. If
you were big, you called Frasier. We had Matthew
Broderick. Carrie Fisher called in as Phyllis,
an insomniac. Billy Crystal, Ed Harris. Laura
Dern, Ray Liotta. Even Jodie Foster and David
Duchovny called in. I love that they never heavily
promoted it during the broadcast. You just had
to recognize the voice. You'd be sitting there
thinking, wait, is that Ray Liotta asking about
his fear of clowns? And we had some great on
-screen guest stars, too. We mentioned Tony Shalhoub,
but we also had Donald O 'Connor from Singing
in the Rain in Crane versus Crane playing an
eccentric millionaire. And Harris Hewlin as Jerome
Belasco, the mob figure. Oh, that episode of
We're... to the wise guy is so funny. Niles owes
a favor to the mob because he needs someone to
fix Maris' parking tickets. Maris has accumulated
some citations. And the mobster says, consider
it done. It's so absurd to see Niles Crane dealing
with the underworld, but it works perfectly.
Now let's zoom out for a second. How was this
season received at the time? We look back on
it as a classic, but what were the actual numbers?
It was a total juggernaut. According to the text,
season three ranked 12th in the overall season
ratings for all of television. That is massive
for a smart comedy. Averaging 13 million households
per week. It was the seventh highest ranking
show on NBC. And critically, it was sweeping
the board. It won the Primetime Emmy Award for
Outstanding Comedy Series in 1996. And remember,
this was part of that legendary streak. Frasier
won that award for season one, two, three, four,
and five consecutively. No other comedy has done
that. It also picked up the TCA award for outstanding
achievement in comedy. The industry loved it
because it was smart. The critics loved it because
it was genuinely witty. And the audience loved
it because it was just incredibly funny. It was
the total package. So as we look back at season
three, what are the big takeaways? If we have
to distill 24 episodes into a few core themes,
what really binds the season together? I think
the biggest thing is breaking points. How so?
The show stopped being polite to its own characters.
It pushed them to their absolute limits. Niles
didn't just have a bad marriage. He lost his
marriage. He was thrown out. Frazier didn't just
have a bad day. He was humiliated on public television
in his underwear, essentially. Martin didn't
just sit in a chair. He asserted his independence
and beat his son at his own game. It's about
stripping away the defenses, taking away the
things they use to protect themselves from the
world. Exactly. Niles loses his shield of being
married. Frazier loses his shield of professional
dignity. Another theme that really stands out
to me is class versus reality. The universe of
Frazier is constantly trying to puncture Frazier's
pretension. Oh, constantly. The more he tries
to be sophisticated, the more chaos ensues. Look
at episode five, where he tries to be the maitre
d' for his exclusive wine club. He wants it to
be so elegant. And the gas pipes burst. The wiring
is faulty. The floor heats up. His apartment
literally falls apart around him while he's trying
to serve vintage Bordeaux. Yeah. It's the universe
clearly saying, You are not better than anyone
else, Frasier. And finally, a theme that I think
gives the show its true heart, loneliness. It's
the undercurrent of the whole show. Despite all
the laughs, these are very lonely people. Episode
22, Frasier Loves Roz, touches on this heavily.
Roz is looking for substance over flash. She
wants someone real. And in the season finale,
episode 24, You Can Go Home Again, we get a really
poignant moment. Frazier is celebrating the third
anniversary of his radio show. And Roz gives
him a gift. A cassette tape. It's a recording
of his very first broadcast three years ago.
Frazier puts it in the player. He sits there
and listens to his own voice. And he doesn't
hear a confident doctor. He hears fear. He hears
extreme anxiety. Can you hear me? Is this thing
on? And it triggers this deep realization. He
looks at his life. He's back in Seattle. He's
successful. But is he actually happy? He realizes
he's still revisiting the exact same anxieties.
He's still searching for the same things. Connection,
love, approval. Which brings us to our final
thought for you to mull over today. It's a bit
of a provocative one. Lay it on us. In that finale,
after a season of Kate Costas leaving him, of
being Dirty Girl on the radio, of forgetting
the lyrics to Buttons and Bows, of realizing
he has no real friends in Seattle, Frasier hears
that old tape. And you have to ask yourself,
Has Frazier Crane actually evolved? That is the
big question. Is he growing? Or is he simply
finding more sophisticated, more expensive ways
to remain unhappy? Is the luxury apartment and
the BMW just a gilded cage for the exact same
neuroses he had when he first arrived? Season
three tore everything down. It left Niall single,
Frasier deeply humbled, and the future completely
uncertain. And I think that refusal to give them
a happily ever after is exactly why we are still
talking about it 30 years later. It's honest.
It's painful. And it's hilarious. Thank you for
joining us on this deep dive into 1995 Seattle.
Go watch Moon Dance again tonight. You won't
regret it. Good night, Seattle.