Dr. Crane, your Glockenspiel has sprung to life! (Thoughts on Frasier, Part Deux)

So in my last post, I said I had more to say on Frasier, and I’m sure everyone dreaded that—but here it is, anyway!

I think one thing that makes Frasier classic are the plot devices, which are in themselves classic—this includes all those zany identity mix-ups, misunderstood conversations, disastrous double entendres, etc. And I think the reason all those oldies-but-goodies work so well is that they mess around so deliciously with two essential things: status and expectation.

Improv comics know all about status—I first read about the concept in this also-classic from the the UK’s Keith Johnstone, Impro (the Brit word for improv). Basically, status is power, and every character has less power or more power, and expectations related to that power. A scene then, in theory, is about pulling power back and forth like a tug-of-war. This tug-of-war is heartily improved by both self-important characters (which describes Frasier and Niles to a tee) and by compromising situations/intentions that are known to the audience but not (all) the protagonists. Hence, why the implied double entendre from my last post, Dr. Crane, your Glockenspiel has sprung to life!, is so funny and effective—because Daphne doesn’t know that Niles intends to seduce her, but we do, and furthermore, we know in this moment that his original expectations have been thwarted. His status is lowered, while Daphne’s is raised—and the upset is highly entertaining.

Of course there are way better examples of this in the show—that one was just handy. Practically every episode starts Fraiser (or Niles) off with a high status, then takes them down notch by pompous notch. Once you start to notice it, it’s fun to follow the ups and downs.

Last but not least—Frasier often messes with audience expectations via the reversal. With the Glockenspiel plot, Niles starts off by desiring Daphne, then switches over to trying to win his own wife back. But when the opportunity arises (using a typical bodice-ripper plot device—trapping the couple together on a stormy night), Niles tries to seduce Daphne, only to find out that he truly loves Maris. The flip-flopping of character wants via plot devices keeps the audience hopping, and it usually ends up messing with character status as well—something, which in the end, can help deepen the character, as in this case, where Niles discovers his truer (and nobler) feelings.

Anyways, that in short, is why I like to think that Frasier is a good diet for a writer’s brain—also a really great excuse to watch TV besides. Hand me that remote!

Pssst… You can learn plot by watching Frasier re-runs!

I know it sounds too good to be true, but it’s not!

Even if it’s for the boob tube, television writing is still writing, and in the case of Frasier it’s smart, funny, and GREAT for learning plot. Why? Because the episodes are pretty classic in terms of using time-honored plot and story devices that have been cracking audiences up since Shakespeare’s comedies and probably before (like identity mix-ups, overheard/misunderstood conversations, downfall-producing character flaws, tempting the fates, and accidental double entendres that lead to scandalous consequences). More on that another day, maybe.

But for now, what I love about Frasier is just how well they do plot—nothing ever goes to waste, and each action has a cause and effect that lead to hilarious endings. In fact, over the course of a 20-minute episode, you can sit down with a pad of paper and draft up something like the following to describe the whole plot as a cause and effect sequence—sort of like a math equations. I just randomly picked episode 17 from Season 1, called A Midwinter Night’s Dream (P.S. Right now, all Frasier seasons happen to be available via instant streaming on Netflix).

I ended up breaking it down into 5 progressions, although you can do it in a lot of different ways—the main point is just to pay attention to how plot works. The basic breakdown I use was inspired by the book Make a Scene (see more info below). Anyways, each progression begins with a “want” (ie, the cause or related to the cause), followed by a “but” (that’s your conflict), followed by a “results in” (voila, the effect!). The “results in” leads very craftily to the next “want”, and on and on you go, like a daisy chain, until the problem is resolved and the episode ends. It’s kind of fun—here’s my stab at it:

FYI, for below, D is Daphne; E=Eric (Daphne’s boyfriend for this episode); F is Frasier; M is Maris; and N is Niles.

1. N wants E to stop hitting on D (because he really wants D) BUT F challenges N by questioning his happiness with M AND RESULTS IN N wants to spice up his marriage to M

2. N tries a pirate-themed romantic role play (see swash-buckler photo!) BUT it fails and M leaves him to go on a trip AND RESULTS IN N wants to win M back

3. N accepts D’s offer to help him make a nice dinner for M’s return at N’s house BUT a storm prevents M from arriving and keeps D trapped with N at N’s house AND RESULTS IN N wants to avoid the temptation to make a move on D

4. N tries to call F at home for help BUT F is out (he’s found out about N and D’s tryst, and is on his way to them) AND RESULTS IN N wants to make a move on D

5. N makes a move on D BUT N is forcefully reminded of his love for M by his gift to her, a chiming Glockenspiel that goes off as N is making his move (yielding the triumphant comic moment from D: “Dr. Crane, your Glockenspiel has sprung to life!”--see photo) AND RESULTS IN N wants M and resolves to go back to her

I’m sure you could disagree or argue how I’ve laid this out—it is a little difficult to separate between cause and effect and want and result, and all that, because they’re often very related. But the point is that doing this can help you start getting an idea of how they relate! You’ll love getting to watch TV while you “study” writing. (P.S. Sorry if you don’t happen to be a Frasier fan for this blog post, but if you’re not, get cracking and watch it—you’ll kick yourself for missing all 11 blissful seasons.)

The book I mentioned above: Rosenfeld, Jordan E. Make a Scene: Crafting a Powerful Story One Scene at a Time. Writer’s Digest Books: Cincinatti, Ohio; 2008. Chapter 3 (Powerful Scene Middles) has a great way to do scene-by-scene breakdown by identifying scene intention, complication, and result.

Can I just bask in the eternal sunshine that is Ray Bradbury for a moment?

Speaking of sunshine—or the opposite of sunshine, in this case—in my humble opinion, Ray Bradbury wrote one of the best stories about rain ever to exist in the history of literature.

Its title is maybe a little too obvious—The Long Rain—but when I read it for the first time this July, I thought, Wow—so this is how plot obstacle is done. And who knew it could be as simple as rain? I’ll let the master do the setup with the story’s opening paragraph:

"The rain continued. It was a hard rain, a perpetual rain, a sweating and steaming rain; it was a mizzle, a down-pour, a fountain, a whipping at the eyes, an undertow at the ankles; it was a rain to drown all rains and the memory of rains. It came by the pound and the ton, it hacked at the jungle and cut the trees like scissors and shaved the grass and tunneled the soil and molted the bushes. It shrank men's hands into the hands of wrinkled apes; it rained a solid glassy rain, and it never stopped."

The rest of the story follows the main characters—visitors to Venus, where it has been raining nonstop for all time—whose want is to find the rainy planet’s elusive “Sun Domes,” which are reported to be heated, rain-free shelters. And you, the reader, cannot help but be drenched in the relentlessness of the obstacle, and glued to the page as a result.

Maybe this is one of those perverse equations of humanity that explains why we are all so inordinately captivated by stories—even though any person in their right mind would try to flee from the relentlessness of this infernal, Bradbury rain, it is somehow that very relentlessness (and the attached desires) that won’t let us turn away from the page. And the more relentless the better—clearly! Excuse me while I slip off and try to find the nearest Sun Dome. Wish me luck!

Quote from: Bradbury, Ray. Ray Bradbury: The Martian Chronicles; The Illustrated Man; The Golden Apples of the Sun. New York, NY: Barnes & Noble, Inc.; 2010. Story is from the collection, The Illustrated Man, p334, ¶1.

Caricature from: http://www.cartoonaday.com/sci-fi-legend-ray-bradbury-dies/