♪ ♪
♪ Baby Shark, doo-doo, doo-doo, doo-doo ♪
♪ Baby Shark, doo-doo, doo-doo, doo-doo, Baby Shark ♪
♪ Mommy Shark, doo-doo, doo-doo, doo-doo ♪
♪ Mommy Shark, doo-doo, doo-doo, doo-doo, Mommy Shark ♪
♪ Daddy Shark... ♪
- Good morning, you two. - Hi.
Oh, I'm sorry, did I wake the baby?
Don't appreciate you calling me that.
No.
John's been up forever.
Just like me.
Why won't he nap?
I would strangle everyone in this room for a nap.
Yes, well...
cherish these times.
They disappear with a cruel swiftness.
Mark my words.
You will blink and find yourself yearning for the days
when you could simply rock your sweet child to sleep
in your arms.
That was incredible.
Mm, seemed a little cliché to me.
No, I think your dad's voice put John to sleep.
Look at him.
It's like he's been chloroformed.
You okay?
Well...
my back's killing me, my...
knees have locked up and...
I know there is a diaper in there somewhere,
but for the love of God, I can't find it.
You know, I have made accommodation for you
in the very large apartment across the hall.
Your room there has a Savoir bed,
plumped with wool from Khangai yaks,
which is so soft that Mongolian herdsmen
can't ride them bareback without slipping off asleep.
I know, but...
Eve lost her boyfriend. She's alone with John.
How's she gonna feel if I just suddenly leave, too?
You're a good friend.
I'm not looking for a pat on the back.
Oh, no, you've got a burp pad stuck to it.
Thank you for the coffee, Dr. Crane.
Oh, of course. Here.
Can I ask you...
do you know why Freddy won't move in with you?
You mean you wouldn't mind if he did?
No.
I mean...
don't get me wrong, I love the guy, but...
he snores like a paint mixer
and spends more time getting ready
in the bathroom than a runway model.
Does he know you feel this way?
Of course not.
Everything he's done for us?
I'm not gonna tell him that the way he slurps coffee
makes me want to throw him out a window.
Oh, thanks, Dad.
You're welcome.
You know...
it seems that out of a laudable concern
for one another's feelings, you two are not
being honest about what you'd like.
What?
- I am. - Well, yeah, me, too.
You'd both prefer it if Freddy lived with me.
- I wouldn't. - Yeah, me, neither.
You spend too much time in the bathroom,
and his slurping makes you want to kill him.
- I've never heard him slurp. - Yeah.
I'm in and out of that bathroom in like 55 minutes.
Dear God. Some people will not be helped.
I could put the two of you on a boat with life preservers
on top of a sand dune, you'd still find a way to drown.
♪ Daddy Shark, doo-doo, doo-doo, doo-doo ♪
♪ Daddy Shark ♪
♪ Grandma Shark, doo-doo... ♪
- Maybe I should get my dad. - I'll help you pack.
♪ Doo-doo, doo-doo, doo-doo, Grandma Shark... ♪
Thanks for helping, David.
Oh, no problem.
You and Uncle Frasier are gonna have so much fun
- living together. - We'll see how it goes.
We haven't always gotten along in the past.
Plus, moving in with your dad at 33
is not exactly catnip for ladies.
There's catnip for ladies?
I think I got this.
Why don't you run down to the storage room
and grab my box of, uh... pencils.
On it.
- So, you... - I'll get the lead out.
Of storage.
So, you...
Actually, they're made of graphite.
So...
You work with firefighters...
men who can sprint down a staircase
carrying another person over their shoulders,
and rather than ask them to help you move,
you ask your cousin, David,
whose greatest athletic achievement
is almost crawling into a hammock.
You've been enjoying your Savoir bed?
The, uh, yak mattress?
Surprisingly soft.
Trust me, once you go yak, you never go back.
You know what, I am so excited about living together.
What do you say we have a toast to this new cohabitation?
- Oh, sure. I got some Scotch, if that sounds good. - Ooh. Great.
- I'll go get it. - Top shelf.
Of course. Nothing less.
No, it's on the top shelf of the hutch.
Green plastic jug.
Dr. Crane!
Ah,
I'm so glad I caught you.
What was that thing you said
about how fast the baby years go?
It was really beautiful.
Oh, I'm not sure I said anything all that poetic.
Just a small lyrical reverie about how all parents yearn
for that precious, fleeting season
when they could drive away their child's woes with...
soothing voice
and a lullaby.
- You're magic. - Hmm?
And another young woman falls under your spell.
Damn it, Frasier, you know how magnetic you are.
Ah. Freddy.
I would like your help picking out a dining room table.
Now, I have found one that I love with the davenport
and another that I absolutely adore with the divan.
It's a real sofa's choice.
And-and-and that is...?
Weight bench.
And you're putting it here?
Seems like a pretty good spot.
Doesn't it make you just a-a bit nervous,
putting a 100-pound dumbbell near a world-class Steinway?
I will stay away from the piano.
Okay.
I'll put this in my bedroom.
Oh, dear.
What, you don't like the beer sign?
No, it's-it's very fun.
Um, just trying to think of the best spot for it.
Um...
Do you know what goes perfectly with this sign?
What?
Your weight bench.
Can't split up these two kissing cousins.
They're meant for each other.
Okay, I'll put this in my room, too.
And this is...?
Oh, yeah. It's dirt from Fenway.
World Series, 2013.
Mm. What a delightfully peculiar little square.
You're not so bad yourself.
Yeah, it's a collector's item.
Oh. Well, then it deserves a...
a place of honor, wouldn't you say?
Uh...
I know. Right. How 'bout here in the bookshelf?
Sure, yeah. I like that idea.
Yeah.
And we'll just do, uh...
Uh...
Let's throw that here.
You know what, Dad, if I'm gonna be living here,
it might be nice if I didn't have to hide
- everything that I own. - You don't.
Anything that doesn't clearly go better in your bedroom,
I will welcome with open arms.
I want you to feel comfortable in your...
Don't sit there!
Those are Christian Lacroix pillows.
So we can't sit on the couch?
Not in jeans.
Huh?
There he is.
- Look at us, sharing a room again. - Ah.
Just like our Oxford days.
The boys are back.
Watch out, ladies... the lads are on the loose.
Mothers, lock up your daughters.
Daughters, lock up your mothers.
Oh, who are we kidding?
The only girls we could ever curl up with
- were the Brontë sisters. - Mm.
Emily Dickinson for a quickie.
Oh, yes.
American girls, huh?
Is that Freddy?
Yes.
His brief stint at Harvard.
He's so smart.
I just don't understand what happened.
You see, this is why I don't have children.
You have four.
Well, you know what I mean.
- Ah, Dr. Crane. - Oh.
I'm so sorry we couldn't get you your own office.
Oh. No, no, I wouldn't have it any other way.
But if one should open up, just let me know.
Oh. Well, if you need some more space,
- I'm sure we could move Alan. - Mm.
Maybe into an unused cadaver drawer at the medical school.
Yes, you can put me in the drawer
right next to your love life.
When's the last time you had a woman on your arm
who wasn't placing a blood pressure cuff around it?
Dr. Crane, we are very eager to get the word out
about our exciting new faculty.
Any chance you have some time
for a short interview with The Boston Globe this evening?
The limelight.
I thought I'd be able to leave her hungry glow behind me
in Chicago.
"I would give all my fame for a pot of ale
and safety."
Gotcha. Well, if you're not into it,
I'll just call The Boston Globe and...
Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no.
I mean, this is my cross to bear.
I mean, my desire for privacy
should be none of your concern.
Eh. Professor Huntview's also a very big get.
I said I'd do it.
Anything to help put Harvard on the map.
Mm.
I've been waiting all day for you.
Eve.
Oh, my God.
Please...
I can't pretend anymore.
I-I just need one thing from you.
I'm desperate.
No amount of desperation will make this okay.
I have to go inside.
Freddy.
Smells great in here.
Oh, I made dinner.
Here, have a drink.
Thank you.
- You bought a dining table? - Yeah.
Well, you said you wanted my help picking one out.
- Yes, but... - And you also said that if I found something
that didn't clearly go in my bedroom,
you would welcome it.
I did, in fact, say that.
It appears to have an electrical cord.
Plug it in.
It's an air hockey table!
By your logic, you think it doubles as a dining room table.
Oh, yeah. Sure. It's space-saving.
I mean, we need an air hockey table.
Indeed.
And we also need a dining table.
So, you know, two for one.
Don't you love the colors?
Which ones?
It appears to have all of them.
Oh! Dad.
Please.
Use a puck.
Pass the salt, please.
Nothing would make me happier.
Mm.
You're right. This could use some salt. Would you?
Freddy, this is all starting to feel a bit passive-aggressive.
If you're trying to make a point,
I wish you would just make it.
Okay.
Goal!
I'm assuming that this is revenge
for not wanting your weight bench in the living room.
Or any of my things.
Only because, happily, I can provide you
with some nicer things.
To you, they're nicer. I like my things.
Well, it's just that they're a bit, um...
Embarrassing.
No! No, no, they're not embarrassing.
You don't want someone walking into your apartment
seeing my stupid, garish things.
You find them embarrassing.
In fact, I'm not so sure you don't find me embarrassing.
Oh, that is absolutely ludicrous.
It's just that I believe that my Loetz Austrian Art Nouveau
iridescent glass vase might clash ever so slightly
with your box of dirt.
That box of dirt
is from Fenway 2013.
The Sox were in that dirt.
I want to understand why that's important.
But to me, it just sounds like a laundry problem.
David Ortiz made MVP of the World Series
in that dirt. "Big Papi."
Well, good for him...
big sonny.
What? What? Where are you going?
To the bar. I'm gonna meet some friends.
And when I get back, I think I should move back in with Eve.
I mean, you like the idea of us living together and bonding,
but you obviously don't want me here.
Of course I do!
Freddy!
And that's the end of the period!
Is that reporter here yet? I've brought two looks.
One serious, one fun. Both gray.
Frasier, look at this.
Found a wonderful picture of us both from our Oxford days.
Oh, Alan, the memories.
I love it.
That's not me.
Really?
This isn't even you.
Huh.
Are you all right?
Oh, it's Freddy.
He's regressing into an angry teen.
What's he angry about?
That I don't love Scotch out of a plastic jug
or a dining set designed by Dave and Buster.
You ask me, it's all a bit performative.
Honestly, it's exaggerated disdain
for anything remotely tasteful.
Just like my father.
Oh, I see what's going on here.
Oh. What does that mean?
- Pretty obvious, isn't it? - Please, Alan, I'm not in the mood.
All right, all right. Not my call.
I'll just write a few things down in case I forget.
You can do what you want. It's no concern of mine.
What are you writing?
I don't care.
What did you write?
Let me guess.
You think Frederick gets under my skin
because he reminds me of my father.
Some trite observation like that.
Not a bad thought, Alan, actually.
Can you blame me? I mean, I loved my father,
but he cringed at absolutely everything I am.
Can you imagine what that's like, to have a father
that's that embarrassed by you...
Okay.
Okay, you made your point.
I'm doing the same thing with Freddy.
He just wants a father who accepts him.
Oh, I see what you've done.
It's a neat little parlor trick. You get me to rev myself up
while you write down absolutely nothing at all, you...
"Just wants a father who accepts him."
How the hell did you do that?
Frasier, I've known you for decades.
I'm an eminent psychiatrist.
Plus, on the other side, I wrote down "mommy issues"
just to cover my bases.
I can't believe I'm confessing this,
but I hit my son over the head with my Art Nouveau vase,
suffocated him with my Christian Lacroix pillows.
God.
- I hate to admit it, but it's true. - Uh, Frasier...
No, I've got to get this off my chest.
I lured my unsuspecting son into my apartment
with false promises, and now there's no trace of him left.
God, I'm a monster.
Dr. Crane, this is Jeneé Whitacker
from The Boston Globe.
Please, I have a family.
Excuse me, ladies. I have a hatchet to bury!
Excuse me, sorry. Uh, excuse me, uh,
I'm-I'm looking for a...
Oh, my God.
Do you know who you are?
- You're Frasier Crane. - I am aware of that, yes.
- I'm actually looking... - My wife used to watch your show all the time.
It gave her the tools to go after what she wanted.
Uh, ex-wife, I should say.
- I hope she and Leslie are happy. - Mm-hmm.
And your show helped me pick up better on social cues.
Oh, very flattering. I'm glad.
As like when I'm interrupting too much.
Which I understand. You should be very proud, but I...
You know who you'd be great for? Our buddy.
His dad died when he was a kid,
and he still can't talk about it.
Oh, gosh, well, I-I'm sorry to hear that,
- but... - Oh, there he is. Hey, Freddy,
look who's here.
It's TV's Frasier Crane.
Yeah.
Hey.
Check it out. He's friggin' starstruck.
It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance.
Sorry to hear about your father
dying when you were just a child.
Yeah, I don't like to talk about that too much.
Goddamn it, Freddy.
I'm not gonna let you be a prisoner of your childhood.
Excuse me, Dr. Crane.
Now, process your grief while we get a bucket of beers.
Yeah.
What you doing here?
Surprised to see me risen from the grave?
Dad...
I'm still talking, Oedipus.
So, this is why you didn't ask your firemen buddies
to help you move.
Because you're too, oh, what was that word you used
to describe how I feel about you, when actually,
it describes how you feel about me?
- It's "embarrassed." - It's "embarrassed."
I hope you're hungry, 'cause this irony is delicious.
- How we doing? - Oh. Yeah. Wow.
Dr. Crane just blasted open doors
I didn't even know were there.
Thanks so much, Doc.
We'll let you get on with your night.
No, no, no, no, hold on. We've just gotten started.
- So, tell me, Frankie... - It's "Freddy."
Freddy. Um, tell me about this father of yours.
Oh, yeah, I-I don't remember that much.
You told me he was a pipe fitter from Dorchester.
Other than that, you said he was
this completely forgettable nobody
who really never made an impression on anyone.
I-I don't think I said that, Moose.
No, I remember 'cause it really broke my heart.
- I'm kind of an empath. - Mm.
And the way your dad died,
impaled by that falling radio antenna. Mm.
No symbolism to unpack there.
Sounds like your father was a big disappointment to you.
No, he...
He could sometimes just be a little hard to be around.
How so?
Oh, I don't know, as a totally random example,
uh, let's say he's the kind of guy who,
if you're out with some friends, maybe having a few beers,
suddenly he shows up and takes over the entire room.
Jerk.
Must have been rather difficult for you, living in that shadow.
It was.
Everybody was always so wowed by him.
I mean, I know I was. That...
That didn't leave a lot of space for...
For you.
And then I guess I kind of lashed out.
Who wouldn't?
It's understandable.
Your father left no room in the home for your personality.
If he were alive today, I'm sure he would say that he was sorry.
I hate to poke holes,
but if your dad died when you were so little
you don't remember him,
how were you overwhelmed by his big personality?
And also, your dad was a pipe fitter from Dorchester?
'Cause you told me he was a plumber from Mattapan,
which could not be more different.
Freddy, I don't even want to think about this,
but have you been lying to us about your dad?
And worse, wasting the valuable time of Dr. Frasier Crane?
You know what, guys? We don't need to talk about this.
- You know... - No, if I may...
There is only one person to blame for this confusion,
and it's not Freddy.
It's Freddy's mother.
You see, Freddy's mother spoke so often about his father.
As the legend grew, the details of his life,
as relayed by his mother, changed constantly.
One minute a plumber, another a-a pipe fitter.
And that is because she actually did not know herself.
Because the truth is, she wasn't sure who his father was.
She had narrowed it down to three.
- Mamma mia. - Precisely.
No, that's the plot of Mamma Mia!
Pipe fitter from Dorchester, a plumber from Mattapan
and a dashing psychiatrist from Cambridge.
You see, only recently, DNA testing was completed.
I know this because two weeks ago,
I received a letter in Chicago...
which is why I am here this evening in Boston.
- You mean...? - Yes.
Frederick Crane...
I'm your father.
Why is this called "scooch"?
'Cause they can't legally call it Scotch.
"Distilled in Orlando."
So, how long before your friends figure out
we've always had the same last name?
Well, they didn't question us already living together
when they came to get the air hockey table, so...
I think we're good.
I know I can be a bit overbearing sometimes.
And I know that it mostly comes from a good place.
Sorry you left Harvard because you were in my shadow.
I didn't.
I dropped out 'cause I hated it.
Just didn't get along
with any of those snooty, pretentious eggheads.
They're not that bad.
You make them sound like Yalies.
I'm just more at home with the guys at the station.
I like those guys. I'm like those guys.
But my whole life, any time anyone finds out who my dad is,
I stop being Freddy and start being Frasier Crane's son.
And I didn't want that again.
So you offed me.
Maybe that's why I should stick around for a little.
I mean, how many kids get a second chance
to live with their dead dad?
So you're staying?
You know, I would drink to that, except I-I can't
have another taste of this solvent.
You know,
I've been thinking about your box of dirt,
and I believe it will go nicely on top of the piano.
Really? You don't think they'll clash?
No, no, I think they'll complement each other.
Besides, if I can make a chaise lounge après-Coco Chanel
work with your grandfather's duct-taped recliner,
I can make anything work.
Fenway, meet Steinway.
I'll get it.
I'm gonna get a fresh glass.
This one's half-dissolved.
- Eve. Uh... - Dr. Crane.
About earlier, I-I just want to clear something up.
Oh, that's all right, Eve. It's happened before.
Other people figured out
that your voice puts their baby to sleep?
Yes.
- Could you... I'm just so tired. - Oh. Of course, of course.
Being a single mom is not as easy as everyone says it is.
You may be a single mom, but...
that doesn't mean that you're alone.
Trust me when I tell you that Freddy and I are both here,
no matter what you may need, and...
You know, it reminds me of an observation
made by one of the great philosophers that...
Funny, my voice really does put John to sleep.
And you.
Well...
Touchdown for Big Papi.
♪ ♪
♪ Y'all know how this goes ♪
♪ Hey, baby, I hear the blues a-callin' ♪
♪ Tossed salads and scrambled eggs ♪
♪ And maybe I seem a bit confused ♪
♪ Yeah, maybe, but I got you pegged ♪
♪ Ha, ha, ha ♪
♪ But I don't know what to do with those tossed salads ♪
♪ And scrambled eggs ♪
♪ Life's callin' again ♪
♪ We love you! ♪