Maybe it would have turned out well but wow, that sounds terrible! It's always fascinating to hear the things that happen in the background. Didn't know about Danson deciding to leave and NBC offering Woody the lead either. Niles was the most unlikable character to me, but despite that I pretty much feel like the three were on more or less equal footing. Lots of funny lines from all of them. Also think the three were a lot more similar than not, even Martin, and maybe that helped. On Cheers the characters had more variety, but with all those characters needing time in each episode they didn't usually develop them as much.
Yes! The Andy Andy episodes are among my favorites of the series! Also Nanny G!: Why so glum, Lilith?
Kelsey Grammer's 'Cheers' Co-Star Wanted Frasier Written Out And here is a picture of Norm at the bar:
Not seen 'Cheers' for many years. I'm not sure I'd want to. I have such fond memories, I'd hate it to look dated or, even worse, end up thinking 'Why on earth did I love this??'.
Cheers was an example of a show that went on for way too long and should have ended a couple of seasons earlier.
It looks beautiful in HD, there are great and not so great episodes in all seasons, and it's great comedy where there is something for everyone. I watch it often.
The episode with Nanny G (Emma Thompson) is one of my favorites of the later seasons. They tried for years to get Thompson to reprise the role on Frasier. She finally agreed to do it during the last season, but then backed out at the last minute with what writer Ken Levine implied was a BS excuse. The episode was already scheduled for production, so they did it with Laurie Metcalf, who did as good a job as possible in what was a thankless task.
Laurie Metcalf hit a home run as Nannette. Thought she was fantastic. Fraisier on the other hand was rather annoying that episode.
One of my favorites (at 10:55 in the video above): Woody: How ya feelin' today, Mr. Peterson? Norm: Poor. Woody: Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Norm: No, I meant, “Pour.”
When Cheers Became Cheers" An Appreciation of the 'Endless Slumper' Episode: When Cheers Became Cheers: An Appreciation of ‘Endless Slumper’ Fantastic article on the "Endless Slumper" episode when Sam loses his luck bottle cap which originally aired Dec 2, 1982. For the full article, click on the link above. Here is an excerpt. "The majority of the episode maintains focus on the ensemble as they try to help Rick, and then lament Sam’s bad luck. Though it features some stellar jokes — especially the sight gag of Norm using his 22 empty beer steins to measure the length of an extra-inning baseball game — it’s a relatively quiet affair fitting with the tone of the series’ early years. It’s heavy on conversation, wordplay, and farcical misunderstanding, and light on belly laughs. In its final six minutes, however, Simon shifts the focus entirely to Sam and Diane (who are in the very early stages of their strained mutual attraction), and “Endless Slumper” moves into a more mature register. Diane learns that Sam’s lucky bottle cap didn’t help him win games, but helped him maintain his sobriety. Without it, he’s feeling tempted to drink again. Sam then finally reaches Rick, who confesses that he lost the bottle cap a week ago and has put off telling him about it. Diane then desperately tries to stop Sam from relapsing at his place of business. Simon’s approach in this closing sequence forgoes emotional shortcuts by emphasizing patience and silence. His script allows both characters to organically move through credible, nuanced emotions without shortchanging the transitions, the moments when one face fades away and another one suddenly takes its place. Sam’s monologue about the bottle cap never falls into maudlin very-special-episode territory, but remains grounded and simple, consistent with Sam’s characterization up to this point. Diane plays the reactive agent, initially adopting a skeptic’s remove toward Sam’s story, but she, too, comes to understand its significance without belaboring the message. It’s when Sam learns that the bottle cap has been lost forever that the dual performances overtake the script. Danson and Long would have many electrifying scenes as a couple in future episodes, but this is a platonic scene between new co-workers and it’s mesmerizing. At the beginning of the sequence, Danson plays overjoyed relief that he’s finally getting his bottle cap back, but as soon as Sam learns the bad news, his visage turns convincingly morose, and he subsequently channels a recovering addict’s frustration. He paces around behind the bar, clearly steaming as he halfheartedly restocks glasses. It’s only a matter of time until Danson plays angry on a dime. “What are you gonna tell me that I haven’t heard a hundred times, huh?” Sam sneers at Diane when she insists she just wants to talk. Long’s role in the scene might be secondary, but it’s no less important. The Charles brothers designed the Diane character to be a fish-out-of-water type, a privileged thorn in the side of a blue-collar environment. Long’s theatrically affected performance heightened that design by purposefully clashing with the subdued, naturalistic acting of her co-workers. Though this would later create issues as Diane’s relationship with the ensemble changed, Long’s play-to-the-cheap-seats technique is still reaching its peak during this scene. She potently communicates intimidation and distress behind a failing façade, her concern reaching a believably high register without belying the scene’s restrained emotional work. It never fails to choke me up when, after Sam tells her that he’s always going to be in a bar every night, Long delivers, through a slightly cracked voice, a futile plea: “But you’re gonna feel better tomorrow!” Burrows, who directed the majority of Cheers and established its house visual style, privileged a moving camera over a stationary one. His camera frequently traveled with the characters both to illustrate a scene’s dynamism and to emphasize the set’s expanse. He employs that style in the beginning of the sequence as Sam moves from one side of the bar to the other to tell Diane about his past, visually drawing out the eventual truth. As the tension escalates, he limits the motion to key moments, allowing the performances to shine in medium shots and close-ups. The constrained framing renders the normally inviting bar a prison of sorts. At the moment when Sam decides he’ll “feel better now” by pouring himself a beer, Burrows quickly pushes in from one side of the bar to Sam’s location on the opposite end, keeping pace with the character’s own impulsivity. It’s a small gesture, but it perfectly captures the Sam’s desperation and misguided focus. Everyone’s talents shine in the climax when Sam pours himself a beer and decides not to take a drink. It’s a hoary idea on paper, but Burrows’s staging of that moment, along with Danson and Long’s own controlled performances, render it downright inspiring. It takes a little over 30 seconds from when Sam pours the beer into a glass to when he successfully slides the glass around the bar, and yet it feels like an eternity. There are only six shots in those 30 seconds, and while each is crucial, the penultimate medium shot of Sam slowly deciding not to succumb is a series’ high point. Simon’s script and Burrows’s direction established the scene’s high stakes, and Danson realistically conveys a person’s capacity to resist temptation under enormous pressure. It’s a process and it’s a decision. Of course, none of that would work if “The Endless Slumper” didn’t successfully create the illusion that Sam might take that drink. We know he won’t because a prime-time network sitcom demands a return to the status quo, but the scene’s true magic lies in its ability to suspend that disbelief. Danson, Long, Simon, and Burrows all bring their respective skills to the table, and their collective ability to play the studio audience like an instrument allows for that belief to be deferred. The audience mostly stays silent during the sequence because it’s not really played for laughs, but the silence only becomes a part of the scene itself as soon as Sam pours the beer. You can feel the audience in that room at the edge of their seat. You can feel the room, and that collective anticipation engenders the necessary catharsis for Sam’s triumph and Diane’s relief. "Cheers would have more scenes like these in the future, ones that embraced the series’ melancholic foundation and its corresponding emotional stakes. Yet, “Endless Slumper” first signaled that the series was capable of creating a space for the somber and the joyous to sit together hand in hand. It actively engaged with the medium’s inherently theatrical nature, channeling television’s unique ability for direct emotional connection. It welcomed the idea that a bar slide could be a substitute for a reclamation of the soul. Cheers innately understood that life, in the words of Lester Freamon, is the **** that happens while you wait for moments that never come, but it never accepted that that **** was solely mundane. “Endless Slumper” illustrated it could take the form of a bartender helping a stranger out of a jam, or a makeshift family worrying about their patriarch, or even a lonely night when two co-workers stare down a dark path and choose not to take it. Most importantly, it embodied the subtext of Cheers: A place where everybody knows your name is a small, but necessary comfort in an otherwise unforgiving world."
