I have to start today with something that has
been bugging me for years. Oh. Yeah. It's a tiny
detail, something that if you blink, you completely
miss it. But once you see it, you just you can't
unsee it. I'm intrigued. What is it? You know,
the opening title card for Frasier. Right. The
animated outline of the Seattle skyline that
pops up at the start. Exactly. With the space
needle, the jazzy music. I know it well. So usually
it's purple or blue or maybe red, but then you
hit season seven and suddenly it's yellow. Bright,
alarming yellow. Yes, bright yellow. It feels
like a warning sign. It really does. Like the
show is saying, um, caution. construction ahead
or maybe high voltage because we aren't just
talking about another 24 episodes of a classic
sitcom today. No, we are not. We are talking
about season seven. This is the season where
the show stops being polite and starts getting
real. Welcome, by the way, to another deep dive.
Thanks for having me. And that is a fantastic
observation to kick us off. Glad you think so.
For you listening right now, our mission today
is to take a massive stack of sources, the detailed
episode logs, the critical reception history,
the viewership data of Frasier Season 7, and
distill all of it into something you can really
use, actionable insights, and frankly, a lot
of entertainment. Because if you look at the
entire 11 -year run of the show, Season 7 is...
Well, it's the fulcrum. The tipping point. Exactly.
The show spent six years carefully building this
very specific house of cards. The dynamics between
the brothers, the bachelor lifestyle, and most
importantly, the absolute silence between Niles
and Daphne. The will they, won't they. Right.
And in this season, they decide to open a window.
And just let a hurricane blow right through that
house of cards. And that's exactly what we're
doing today. We are doing a deep dive into the
chaos, the romance, the really massive egos of
season seven. Which aired right at the turn of
the millennium from September 1999 to May 2000.
Right. And looking at the numbers in these source
logs, it seems like the entire world was watching.
They really were. We're talking about a cultural
monoculture that just. It doesn't exist anymore.
Yeah. I mean, the finale of this season pulled
in nearly 34 million viewers. That's insane.
It's Super Bowl territory in today's fragmented
media landscape. 34 million. But what's interesting
is why they were tuning in. They weren't just
there for the witty banter or the sherry jokes.
No, they were there because of the elephant in
the room. Exactly. Niles and Daphne. We really
have to start there. Because for six seasons,
Niles Crane has been pining for his father's
physical therapist. Pining is putting it mildly.
True. It's been pathetic. It's been hilarious.
It's been genuinely heartbreaking at times. Right?
But the status quo was always set in stone. Niles
loves her. Daphne is completely oblivious. So
why mess with a winning formula? Well, that's
the moonlighting curse, right? Yeah, the fear
that if you put the couple together, the sexual
tension just evaporates. And it sure becomes
boring. Right. But the writers realized something
crucial by season seven. The audience's patience
wasn't infinite. You can only tease a romance
for so long. Exactly. Before it stops being romantic,
it just starts being frustrating. So they decided
to pull the trigger. But looking at the episode
list here. They didn't just have them kiss in
episode one. Oh, no. They dragged us through
the mud first. It is an absolute gauntlet. And
what I love about how they structured this season
is that the catalyst for the biggest romantic
revelation in the show's history, it isn't the
romantic hero. No. It's not Niles. It's Frasier.
Yes. And he does it entirely by accident. We
have to talk about the episode. Back talk. Part
one. The moment the dam breaks. Right. And it
starts in such a mundane way. Frazier just throws
his back. It's a classic sitcom trope, the truth
serum device. Yeah. Frazier is in agony. He's
laid up on the couch and he is loaded up on heavy
muscle relaxers and painkillers. He is so loopy.
His filter is completely gone. I love the acting
in this scene. He's just rambling. And in this
drug -induced haze, he starts talking to Daphne.
He tells her that he knows she's charming and
he knows that someone in the house is madly in
love with her. Now, put yourself in Daphne's
shoes for a second. Okay. Frasier Crane, your
employer, a man who has been single and desperate
for years, is lying on a couch high on narcotics
telling you that someone in the house loves you.
Who else would he mean? Exactly. She thinks he
means himself. She totally thinks Frasier is
confessing his love. And that misdirection is
brilliant writing. It forces the character of
Daphne to finally confront the idea of a crane
man loving her, but without the immediate massive
stakes of it being Niles. She has to process
the concept first. Right. She's horrified. She's
awkward. She's desperately trying to let him
down gently. And then Frasier, who is still just
high as a kite, realizes she's misunderstood
him. Yeah. And he corrects the record. He just
blurts it out. Not me, you idiot. Niles. And
just like that, six years of secrets are out
in the open. The genie is out of the bottle.
But this is where the show really surprised me
upon rereading the logs. In a typical rom -com,
this is the moment the music swells. Right. Daphne
realizes, oh, Niles, of course. Yeah. And runs
into his arms. But that is not what happens here.
Not at all. She doesn't look happy. Yeah. She
looks well. Terrified. And that is why this season
is superior to most sitcom romances. They treated
Daphne like a real human being. Not a plot device.
Exactly. Because think about it. If you found
out your friend of six years had been secretly
obsessing over you, creating a fantasy version
of you, smelling your hair when you weren't looking.
Yeah, that's incredibly creepy in reality. Right.
You wouldn't swoon. You would reevaluate every
single interaction you've ever had with that
person. Yeah, still betrayed. You'd feel unsafe,
maybe. Or at least deeply confused. She spirals.
And that leads - directly to the episode Dark
Side of the Moon. Which is fascinating because
it's basically a 30 -minute therapy session.
Yeah. Daphne causes a four -car pileup. Which
is a brilliant metaphor for her brain at that
moment. It really is. And so she gets court -ordered
into anger management therapy with Dr. McCaskill.
She pushes Daphne. Daphne thinks she's angry
about her brother Simon visiting or the traffic
or the wedding planning with Donnie. Right. But
the therapist just keeps peeling back the layers.
There's one specific detail in this episode that
the sources highlight and I think it's one of
the smartest things the writers ever did. The
red dress. Yes. The dress. It's so good. Break
that down for us because it's such a subtle psychological
clue. So Daphne is recounting the events leading
up to the car crash. Yeah. She mentions that
she was wearing her favorite dress and her brother
Simon completely ruined it. He spills something
on it or ruins it somehow. Right. She's furious
about the dress. But the therapist stops her.
And asks a very simple question. Where were you
going in that dress? Exactly. And she said she
was at a bridal shower. What? But a surprise
bridal shower. Right. She didn't know she was
going to a party. She thought she was just going
to be home, alone, helping Niles cook a meal.
Oh, man. That hits so hard when you realize it.
The realization just washes over her face. Why
did she put on her most killer dress, do her
hair, and put on perfume just to hang out in
the kitchen with Niles? Because she was dating
him and she didn't even know it. Precisely. Her
subconscious knew she was in love with him long
before her conscious mind allowed her to admit
it. Wow. That dress was her subconscious making
a move. It's such a sophisticated way to show
her feelings. Right. Without her having to say
a clunky expositional line like, I realized I
loved him, the dress tells the entire story.
That is brilliant. So now the table is set. Daphne
knows. And she knows she loves him back. But
there is a massive problem. Two massive problems,
actually. Right. Their names are Donnie and Mel.
The obstacles. And the thing is, they aren't
just cartoon villains, which makes it so much
harder. Well, let's talk about that because this
all culminates in the finale. Something borrowed,
someone blew. The big two -parter. It is chaotic.
You have a funeral for a doorman happening at
the same time as a wedding at a country inn.
Pure farce. Yeah. But the emotional situation
is incredibly messy. Niles, thinking he has absolutely
no chance with Daphne, has impulsively married
Mel. Days ago. Days ago, and Daphne is days away
from marrying Donnie. It is a pressure cooker.
The show creates this comedy of errors vibe,
people hiding in bathrooms, secret conversations
on balconies. But the emotional core is very,
very serious. Yes. leading up to the winnebago
scene the iconic winnebago scene niles and daphne
finally confront each other in a beat -up rv
niles lays it all out i love you i've always
loved you and daphne finally says it back and
they decide to run away together it's wildly
romantic the audience cheers 33 million people
screaming at their tvs exactly can we just pause
for a second and look at the wreckage we really
must because the show to its credit doesn't completely
shy away from it They are the heroes of the show,
but in this specific moment, they are acting
like absolute villains to everyone else. That's
true. I mean, Niles married Mel, he took vows,
and Daphne is leaving Donnie, who, by all accounts
in the source material, is a total sweetheart,
literally standing at the altar. It is morally
indefensible, objectively speaking. Right. If
this was real life, and your friend did this
to someone, you would be appalled. You would.
You'd probably distance yourself from them. Yeah.
But that ambiguity... is what gives the finale
its weight. How do you mean? Well, if Mel was
a complete monster and Donnie was abusive, the
choice would be easy. Right. It would be boring.
But Donnie's a good guy. And Mel. Well, Mel is
difficult. She's neurotic. But she hasn't done
anything to deserve being humiliated on that
level. She didn't deserve that. No. The writers
are making a very bold statement here. True love,
in this instance, is a destructive force. It
creates total chaos. It hurts people. Niles and
Daphne choose their own happiness over their
social obligations and their morality. It's incredibly
selfish. It is profoundly selfish. And yet, we
root for them. Why do you think that is? Because
we've seen the six years of longing. As an audience,
we feel they have earned this selfishness. We're
complicit. Completely. But the show leaves us
with the image of Donnie's devastation. It doesn't
let Niles and Daphne off the hook completely.
No, they drive off smiling, but they are driving
away from a crime scene of broken hearts. That's
a great way to put it. It's a tragedy for everyone
except the two people in the front seat. And
speaking of tragedy... Let's pivot. Yeah, let's
pivot to the man whose name is actually on the
title card. Frazier. Frazier. Because while Niles
is having the most dramatic, high -stakes romantic
arc of his life, Frazier is... Well, he's flailing.
Flailing is a very polite word for it. It's painful
to watch. If Niles' season seven arc is about
love and taking risks, Frasier's is about hubris.
Pure, unadulterated ego. It's startling to watch
them side by side in these logs. Niles is evolving
and Frazier seems to be devolving. He's becoming
a caricature of himself. Because he's fighting
for relevance. You have to remember, Frazier
sees himself as the patriarch of the brothers,
the successful one, the famous one. Right. But
his personal life is completely empty. So what
does he do? He doubles down on his public persona.
He desperately needs to be respected. Which brings
us perfectly to the episode Radio Wars. Oh, boy.
I was reading the breakdown of this episode,
and it's hilarious, but also so painful. Frasier
becomes the target of a morning zoo radio team.
Carlos and the Chicken. Yes. The classic high
culture versus low culture clash. Exactly. They
prank him. They record sound bites of him and
his producer, Roz, and they splice them together
to make it sound like they're having, well, let's
call it a steamy encounter right there in the
broadcasting. booth. It's juvenile. Completely.
It's stupid. Most people would just ignore it.
But Frasier. Frasier declares war. He cannot
let it go. He actually holds a rally. He drafts
a manifesto. Yes. He confronts them in the studio
and every single time he tries to assert his
dignity, he just gives them more material. There's
that one scene where he confronts them and he's
being so pompous, so self -righteous. And they
just hit a button and play a fart noise. And
he crumbles. He absolutely crumbles. And reveals
his fragility. He cannot exist in a world that
doesn't take him seriously. Right. He genuinely
believes that if he just explains to the bullies
why they are wrong. They will stop. Which is
not how bullies work. At all. Yeah. He completely
misreads the dynamic. His massive ego just makes
him an incredibly easy target. And that thirst
for validation doesn't stop at radio. No, it
does not. He tries to conquer television, too.
Let's talk about Morning Becomes Entertainment.
Ah, yes. That's her Bebe Glazer. His agent. The
devil herself. I love Bebe. She is the absolute
perfect enabler for Frazier's worst instincts.
So they get a gig co -hosting a local morning
TV show, AM Seattle. Right. Now, Frazier goes
into this saying, I will bring culture to the
masses. We will discuss art and psychology. And
within one single episode, what is he doing?
He's doing impressions and engaging in mindless
banter. He becomes exactly what he hated in Radio
Wars. Yes. He becomes a morning zoo host. It's
sheer hypocrisy. He gets drunk on the fame. There's
a moment noted in the logs where he's walking
down the street. People are recognizing him and
he is just glowing. He loves it. He is willing
to sell out every single principle he has just
to be recognized by a stranger on the street.
But the kicker is he's being played the entire
time. Always. He thinks he's a big TV star. Yeah.
But Bibby is just using the TV show as leverage
to stall and negotiate his radio contract? He's
just a pawn. It's a harsh reality check for him.
His ego made him completely blind to the business
reality. He thought he was the king, but he was
a bargaining chip. Exactly. And then we get the
ultimate ego trip. A czar is born. This might
be the peak of the Crane Brothers snobbery. It's
definitely up there. So their dad, Martin, buys
this ugly pewter clock. The bear clock. It's
hideous. So hideous. Right. But they find out
it's a Romanov antique. Right. And it's worth
$25 ,000. Now, for 99 % of the population, including
their father, the headline is, we have $25 ,000.
Free money. Right. Go on a cruise. Buy a car.
But for Frazier and Niles, the money is completely
irrelevant. Totally. What matters is the provenance.
They realize that if this clock belonged to the
Romanovs and their ancestors had it. Maybe they
are related to the Romanovs. Exactly. They spend
the whole episode trying to prove they have royal
blood. They get the clock. They look at the skulls.
They do all this research. They are absolutely
desperate to be descended from czars. Which is
wild. Think about what that says about their
self -image. It's deeply telling. They are wealthy,
successful psychiatrists living in luxury in
Seattle. That should be enough. You would think.
But it's not. They have this deep -seated insecurity
that they are just quote -unquote common. Right.
They want to be elevated. They want to be special
by birthright, not just by their own accomplishments.
And the ending of that episode is just perfect
poetic tragedy. They find out they aren't royalty
at all. No. They're descended from the scullery
maids and the thieves who stole the clock in
the first place. And they are crushed. Devastated.
They would literally rather be the penniless
descendants of royalty than the rich descendants
of thieves. It just shows how completely warped
their value system is. It really does. So we
have Frasier the egomaniac, but season seven
also gives us Frasier the... Well, Frasier the
creep. Is that too strong a word? Let's say.
Frasier the psychologically compromised dater.
Okay, that's fair. We have to talk about Mamma
Mia. Oh, boy. I remember reading the synopsis
for this and feeling physically uncomfortable.
It is a tough watch. Frasier meets a woman named
Mia, played by Rita Wilson. She's great. She's
funny. She's a children's author. But... She
is an exact physical clone of his dead mother.
It is not subtle. She looks exactly like Hester
Crane. She acts like Hester. Everyone else sees
it immediately. Martin sees it and practically
turns pale. Niall sees it and can't even speak.
But Fraser is completely oblivious. He thinks
he's found the perfect woman. How does a world
-renowned, Harvard -educated psychiatrist not
realize he is dating his mother? Because the
blind spot is protecting him. How so? He misses
his mother deeply. He wants that comfort, that
unconditional love that he lost. His subconscious
found a literal loophole to get it back. If he
acknowledged the physical resemblance, the illusion
would shatter immediately. So his brain literally
refuses to see it. Until the reveal scene in
the cabin. A masterpiece of cringe comedy. It's
burned into my brain. They are watching old home
movies of Hester. Right. Frasier is sitting on
the couch next to Mia. Right. He looks at the
screen, sees his mom. He looks at Mia. He looks
at the screen. He looks at Mia. The dawning horror
on his face. It's like a scene from a Hitchcock
movie. It really is. It's the sudden realization
of incestuous desire, basically. It's Freud 101.
And once the spell is broken, he cannot get out
of there fast enough. No. Yeah. But it raises
a really disturbing thematic question for his
character. Yeah. Is Frasier's perfect woman always
just going to be his mom? Is that why he's constantly
sabotaging his relationships and ending up alone?
He's chasing a ghost. And speaking of chasing
ghosts, he also chases his high school glory
days in the episode Big Crane on Campus. Enter
Lorna Ledley. Played by the incomparable Jean
Smart. She is fantastic in this. She plays the
prom queen, the popular girl who wouldn't give
Frasier the time of day back in high school.
And now... Decades later, she wants him. For
Frasier, this is the ultimate victory lap. He
is validating his teenage self. He's saying to
the world, look at me now, I'm deeding the prom
queen. But the reality of Lorna is, she's kind
of a nightmare, right? She is. She's loud, she
chain smokes, she yells at people constantly.
She is everything that adult, snobby, opera -loving
Frasier hates. But he keeps dating her. Why do
you think that is? I mean... Because the teenage
boy inside him is scaring the shit. Right. He
is willing to endure the yelling and the secondhand
smoke just to say he finally won high school.
It's another form of regression. Exactly. In
Mamma Mia, he regresses to childhood. In Big
Crane on campus, he regresses to adolescence.
He is not acting like a grown man in season seven.
Not at all. He's moving backward while Niles
is moving forward. That's a really sharp insight.
We should mention Martin here, too, because usually
Martin is the grounded one in the apartment.
He's the audience surrogate, usually. The one
shaking his head at his pretentious sons. But
in season seven, even Martin gets into some serious
hijinks. He does. Out with Dad is pure, unadulterated
farce. It reads like an episode of Three's Company.
It really does. Martin wants to avoid a date
with a woman named Helen. So instead of being
an adult and just saying, no thanks, I'm not
interested, he panics. He panics and tells her
he's gay. And of course, it snowballs. It always
snowballs. Helen tries to set him up with her
gay uncle Edward. So Martin has to bring Niles
into the lie to save himself. He pretends that
he and his son Niles are boyfriends. Which is
just layers of inappropriate. It's hilarious,
but it also shows that the apple doesn't fall
far from the tree, does it? Not at all. Fraser
and Niles get their complete inability to have
honest, difficult conversations directly from
their dad. They would all rather construct a
massive, elaborate lie than just face one awkward
moment of truth. And yet, Martin also has the
most grounded romantic storyline of the entire
season. With Claire. Right. Claire, what'd you
do, Bukowski? I was hoping you would have to
pronounce that and not me. I practiced. This
arc with Claire is important because it deals
with something real. Yes. Claire was a friend
of a recently deceased friend of Martin's. And
Martin feels like he's betraying his dead buddy
by dating her. It's a very real, very adult problem.
Unlike Frasier dating a literal clone of his
mother, Martin is dealing with genuine grief,
loyalty, and moving on in your twilight years.
It anchors the show. It gives it heart. It definitely
provides a necessary counterweight to the farce.
Let's shift gears and talk about the people who
make these specific storylines possible. The
new additions. The ensemble. Right. We've mentioned
Mel and Donnie, but I want to dig a little deeper
into them, specifically Mel. Mel Karnofsky, played
brilliantly by Jane Addams. It is so easy to
hate Mel. Very easy. She's fussy. She's controlling.
She's constantly holding Niles back. But hear
me out. Isn't she kind of perfect for Niles?
On paper. Yeah. Absolutely. She's a plastic surgeon,
so she values cleanliness, aesthetics, and precision.
She loves fine wine. She's neurotic. She hates
germs. In a universe where Daphne Moon does not
exist, Mel is Niles' soulmate. And that's exactly
what makes her dangerous. Yes. She's not totally
wrong for him. She is just the dark side version
of him. Maris 2 .0. Exactly. She's the version
of Niles that never evolves. She encourages his
absolute worst snobbery. Daphne brings out his
warmth and his humanity. Mel brings out his neuroses.
We see this perfectly illustrated in the episode
Wine Club. Oh, where she forces him to run for
Corkmaster against Frasier. Right. Niles didn't
actually care about being Corkmaster. He was
perfectly happy to let Fraser have the title.
But Mel just whispers in his ear. She manipulates
him. She plays on his sibling rivalry. She pits
him against his own brother. And that is the
moment the audience realizes, okay, she has to
go. She's an active threat to the core relationship
of the show. And then on the flip side, there's
Donnie. Poor, sweet Donnie Douglas. Saul Rubinick
plays him with such genuine warmth. The writers
did a really cruel thing here, didn't they? They
made Donnie lovable. He's a great lawyer. He
treats Daphne like an absolute queen. He even
gets along with Martin. He plays poker with him.
He fits into the family. And if Donnie was a
jerk, the finale would just be a pure celebration.
But because he's such a good guy, the finale
feels, like you said earlier, like a crime scene.
It makes us, the viewers, complicit. We want
Niles and Daphne together so badly, so we find
ourselves rooting for a genuinely nice man to
get his heart completely broken. It's very sophisticated
emotional manipulation by the writers. It is
masterful sitcom writing. We also get some workplace
shakeups in season seven that we should touch
on. I want to look at something about Dr. Mary.
Yes, this felt like a very different kind of
episode for Frasier. It was. It tackled race,
which the show usually avoided entirely. Frasier
hires Mary Thomas to fill in for Roz while she's
away. She's black? And she has a very folksy,
advice -heavy style on the radio. Which Frazier
fundamentally hates. He wants clinical precision.
He wants Freudian analysis. But he can't bring
himself to fire her. He can't even criticize
her on the air. Why? Because he's a wealthy white
liberal who is absolutely terrified of being
perceived as a bigot. Exactly. His white guilt
completely paralyzes him. Mary starts taking
over the show, giving this grandpappy's wisdom
-style advice, and Frazier just sits there sweating.
Because he doesn't want to be the bad guy. It's
a really sharp satire of his performative progressivism.
He cares much more about looking tolerant than
he does about the actual quality of his own radio
show. It is squirm -inducing to watch him twist
himself into knots. And then, keeping with the
workplace theme, we have Poppy. Poppy Delafield,
the station owner's daughter. The human chatterbox.
She talks without inhaling. She serves a similar
narrative function to Mary, in a way. Frasier
tries to use her. He only tolerates her annoying
personality because he thinks her rich daddy
will give him a lucrative TV career. But Poppy
is an agent of chaos. She completely misunderstands
his intentions and takes the hosting gig for
herself. Again, Frasier's scheming blows up right
in his face. And we also have to mention Simon
Moon. Daphne's brother. Played by Anthony LaPiglia.
He is the catalyst for ruining that red dress
we talked about earlier. He's a chaotic force
too. He represents the messy working class background
Daphne comes from, which contrasts so sharply
with the crane world she's marrying into. So
we've got the massive romance, the inflated ego.
The workplace chaos. And the audience just ate
it up. They devoured it. We mentioned the 34
million viewers for the finale earlier, but it
wasn't just a popularity contest. The critics
were entirely on board, too. The hardware really
speaks for itself this season. Kelsey Grammer
won the Golden Globe for Best Actor. The cast
won the SAG Award for Outstanding Performance
by an Ensemble. Which they absolutely deserved.
The chemistry between the core five and season
seven is practically telepathic. It's a masterclass.
And the writing won huge awards. The WGA award
for the finale. It is very rare for a show in
its seventh season to be winning best writing
awards. Yeah, usually by season seven, shows
are running on fumes. They're doing clip shows
and stunt casting. Frasier was running on jet
fuel. It really was the peak of the mountain.
And in many ways, reading their sources, it feels
like the end of an era. Oh, without a doubt.
The show went on for four more seasons, but it
was never quite the same after this, was it?
It couldn't be. The central tension that drove
the plot for six years was gone. Niles and Daphne
were finally together. The dynamic had to permanently
shift. Season seven was the climax of the original
premise. Everything after that, regardless of
its quality, was either an epilogue or a completely
new story. Before we wrap up today's deep dive,
I want to go back to that final image we talked
about earlier. The moral ambiguity of the finale.
The wreckage. Yes. We see Niles and Daphne driving
off into the sunset. They are terrified. They've
ruined lives. But they have each other. Right.
Martin has his new romance with Claire. True.
Even Donnie and Mel, well, at least they were
genuinely chosen by someone, even if it ended
in a disastrous betrayal. They had prospects.
They were actively engaged in life. But look
at Frasier. It is a very stark. image to end
a comedy season on. The season literally ends
with Frasier Crane sitting in a beat up Winnebago
drinking terrible undrinkable wine with his dad.
He is completely alone. His radio career is stalled
out. His TV attempt failed miserably. He broke
up with the prom queen and he ran away from the
mom clone. He is arguably in a much worse position
personally and professionally than when the season
started. He is. So for you listening I want to
leave you with this provocative thought to chew
on. Is season seven, the most celebrated season
of this comedy, actually a tragedy for Frasier?
I think you can absolutely argue that. Right?
He is the ferryman. Oh, I like that. He guides
everyone else to their final destination. He
accidentally tells Daphne the truth, setting
her free. He pays for the wedding that doesn't
happen. He mediates the conflicts. He helps Niles
finally be brave enough to take what he wants.
But he cannot cross the river himself. That is
heartbreaking. It is the central painful irony
of the character. He can explain the intricate
mechanics of love and psychology to millions
of listeners on the radio. But he cannot make
it work in his own living room. Never. His ego,
his neuroses, his desperate obsession with perfection,
it all keeps him isolated. While Niles is willing
to blow up his entire life and be completely
messy for love, Frazier is still trying to be
perfect. He's still trying to be royal. And that
is what keeps him alone. He's stuck. Stuck in
that Winnebago, watching his brother drive away
with the happiness he has always wanted for himself.
A very sobering thought for a 90s sitcom. But
I think that's exactly why we still love it and
why we're still talking about it 26 years later.
It's funny. It's yellow alert, chaotic. But underneath
all the farce, it's deeply messily human. Absolutely.
Well, thanks for taking this deep dive with us
today. Next time you watch season seven, keep
an eye out for that yellow title card. It's a
warning. Emotional wreckage ahead. Catch you
next time.