Cheers is filmed before a live studio audience.
Oh, let me help you with that, Sam.
That's okay, Woody. I'm not as old as I look.
Really?
Sam, I don't know if this would interest you, but I have an extra ticket tonight,
Jacques Brel Is Alive and Well and Living in Paris.
He's not doing that underwater stuff anymore?
Jacques Brel was a Belgian balladeer who wrote songs
of great passion and power in the '50s and '60s.
You mean like "Who Put the Bop in the Bop Sh-bop Sh-bop"?
So you're busy.
"Who Put the Bop"?
Yeah, you remember that? The great old song,
- right up there with 'Yakety Yak.' - "Yakety Yak"?
Oh, come on, you remember the Coasters, don't you?
- No. - You're kidding.
How about the Shirelles or the Platters or Dixie Cups?
Sorry.
You don't remember any of those old groups?
Oh, old groups. You mean like Devo.
Maybe you better take this.
Off to class, huh? What do you got today?
Sissy French Painters of the 17th Century.
As a matter of fact, I'm on my way to my Beginning Mime class.
- "Meem"? - Most people pronounce it mime.
Mime?
Yeah, you know, Woody, those guys with white paint all over their faces
so bouncy and happy you just wanna strangle them.
You're not serious.
- Everyone loves a mime. - No, everybody loves a clown.
Everybody hates a mime.
That's simply not true.
Well, you know, I saw this guy on the Common one day.
Did an amazing performance.
He-- He did a crane, a mother crane, feeding its young.
Turns out the guy was actually choking on a piece of gum.
But I was moved, frankly.
Yeah, well, you know, Norm, you can make light of it all you want,
but it is an ancient art form.
It has been around since the times of Caesar Augustine.
Yeah? So have those socks you're wearing. Who cares?
Well, you know, it is the purest form of communication.
Diane, why don't you give us a little exhibition here.
Oh, I couldn't. I'm really just a novice. I've only had three lessons. All right.
Oh, all right, ladies and gentlemen, Diane, the "mimette."
All right, she's starting off here with your basic cop directing traffic.
And segueing into a waiter carrying a heavy tray of dishes.
Yes, good. And completing it with the midget imitating Judy Garland.
Very nice, bravo, bravo!
Very good.
It was a person trapped in a shrinking box.
I'd say you'd better scurry off to class. You got a lot of practicing to do.
Now, that I know.
- Hey, Sammy, mail in? - Yeah, there you go.
- You expecting something special? - Oh, I don't wanna talk about it.
It's too depressing.
Oh, come on. We're your buddies here.
Yeah, you don't wanna keep that stuff inside, Carla.
It'll eat you up.
Oh, yeah, it's just what I need.
You chowderheads trying to solve my problems.
Come on now, I'd say that four brains
plus whatever Cliffy has are better than one.
Come on. We wanna help. Let us help.
- Yeah. - Okay, okay, try this one for size.
In case you haven't noticed, my luck with men hasn't been so great lately.
In fact, all my dates fall into two categories:
geeks and those studying to enter the geekhood.
So in order to increase my odds,
I decided to enlist the full resources of the media.
I put this ad in the personals of Boston Scene.
So it's been two weeks, and no one has answered.
Can you help with that?
- Well, all right. - Yeah.
Give us a second here. All right, guys?
- Hey. - Yeah, what? What do you got?
You got a crack in the ceiling there, Sammy.
Just what I thought. Thanks, guys.
Oh, come on, come on back here, would you?
We're just kidding now. Now we're gonna really help.
Hey, why would he write you here anyway?
Well, you think I want some sex-starved creep
camped out on my doorstep? One of my neighbors might get him first.
Just let me-- Let me see the ad. Which one is it?
Right there. Right after "speed eater seeks same."
All right, all right.
"Divorced female, warm, witty and Italian in every way except fat."
- Well, sounds good so far. - Yeah.
"Thirty-three, 5-foot and a quarter inch,
dark brown hair, brown eyes, no visible scars, tattoos or birthmarks.
Seeking possible serious relationship.
Note, I have six children. This is not a misprint. Six."
Oh, my, I can't believe not one guy has answered this.
Carla, my dear, you're forgetting, like, the basic principle of advertising.
Lying.
Oh, sure, I could tell him I got no kids, right?
- Right. Right. - I could tell him that I'm 21, 5'9"...
- Right. - ...gorgeous green eyes,
flaming red hair and ta-tas till Tuesday.
But how am I gonna explain the way I really look when he sees me?
Stress?
Hey, all right, next time I spill my guts, remind me to do it in front of friends.
- I was just trying to cheer you up. - I am in no mood to be cheered up.
Next guy tries to cheer me up is gonna get open-face surgery.
I don't get it. She's got ta-tas till Monday afternoon at least.
Boy, she's really bad off. Come on, come on, listen,
we gotta think here now. All right, come on,
put ourselves in her place. What would I do if I couldn't get a date?
Who am I kidding?
- Well, why don't one of us write her? - You wanna date her?
No, no, no. No, I think he means, why don't we make up a guy?
I don't know, man. Make up a guy, it's just too risky. Too risky.
Yeah, she'd suspect something the minute she met him.
No, no, no, we wouldn't have to let it go that far.
In the meantime, we're giving her hope, a little confidence.
The more confident she is, the more attractive she'll feel.
That'll make her more attractive to some real guy. Or something like that.
- Sounds good. - All right, I'm in.
- Okay? - Yep, we got two.
All for one, one for all, huh?
Gee, Mr Clavin, your hands are soft like a girl's.
My feet have got calluses on them, just like every other part of my body.
Woody, get me some paper there. Hey, Carla's gonna love this,
don't you think? I hope she realizes what great friends she has here.
You bet. She will. And if she doesn't, what do you say we just have
- this guy dump all over her? - Good idea.
- We don't have any with lines. - That's okay, I'll be careful.
Okay, before we start writing,
I suggest we just figure out who exactly this guy is.
No, we're making him up. He can be anybody we want him to be.
Doctor, ski instructor--
No, that's the point. if the guy's too fabulous, she'll be on to us.
All right, it's gotta be somebody, though, who's not in her league usually.
We could make him a postman.
- No, no, too much. - No, no.
Boy, you guys, we're sunk already. She asked for a picture.
Yeah? Now, wait-- Wait a second. Here, we're back afloat here.
Check this out. How's this for your basic stud?
- Oh, oh, nice. - Oh, nice, great. Who is he?
No idea. Just came with the wallet.
Hey, look at this. Letter for Carla Tortelli.
- What? - My goodness.
- Let me see. Come on, come on! - What's the magic word?
- Gelding. - That's the one.
What is it, Carla?
Someone or thing had the nerve to answer my ad.
Okay, everybody, gather around for a good laugh.
"My dearest Carla,
I was intrigued by your warm, honest ad.
I'll be candid as well. I was married myself,
but, sadly, it failed.
I'm not much for bars or the singles scene.
I prefer a quiet night, a warm fire and pleasant company."
- Very sensitive, very sensitive. - Yeah, yeah.
"I'd love to meet you soon, but unfortunately my job
as an international airline pilot
keeps me real busy flying places most people only dream about."
- Talking adventuresome. - Yeah.
"For the moment, then, we'll have to depend on the U.S. Postal Service."
No trouble there.
"Sincerely, Mitch Wainwright.
- P.S., I love kids." - Oh, no, you're kidding me. Boy.
You really hit the mother lode there, didn't you?
- I don't know. - What do you mean, you don't know?
What do you want?
Well, I guess he does sound kind of great.
- You bet he does. - Yeah.
Carla, you have no way of knowing if this man is telling the truth
- about himself. - Don't you think I've thought of that?
But if this guy is only half as good as he sounds, he's twice as good
as any of the dirtbags I've ever dated.
- I just wish he'd sent a picture. - He did.
- What? - Probably. He probably did.
- Yeah. - Check in the envelope there. Check.
- There is a picture. - You're kidding.
- Oh, yeah? - Hey.
- Come to Mama. - Oh, look at that guy.
- Handsome. - Oh, yeah.
Hey, how about that? Good times, huh?
- Yeah. - There's something suspicious
- about this whole situation. - No, there's nothing suspicious here.
- How do you know? - I know. I know.
Sam, is this your handiwork?
I can't believe you did something this stupid.
She was depressed. We were trying to help her out. That's all.
Nothing's going to top the depression of going after the man of her dreams
and finding you there. Believe me, I know whereof I speak.
There's no way she's gonna find out.
Hey, this guy looks familiar.
- Where have I seen this face before? - Probably the airport.
- Yeah. - Pilots hang out there.
- All the time. - I got it.
He's in a frame I just bought at Woolworth's.
You're kidding.
Oh, my God. He's a model too.
Is that right?
So did Carla get the latest edition of the Mitch Gazette yet?
Yeah, she's in the back reading it right now.
Have you noticed how Carla is kind of perking up lately?
I'll admit she's much less repulsive.
Bordering on suffer able, but that doesn't make what you're doing right.
Oh, come on, give her her moment in the sun there.
I mean, after all, you had yours with me.
You're not referring to that nanosecond under a penlight are you?
Oh, no, what--?
- What is that? - A little surprise I have for you, Sam.
I hate surprises. And you know what else I hate.
Bravo!
Sam, I'd like you to meet Lev Agajanian,
better known as Sotto the Mime. Sotto, this is Sam Malone.
Oh, hi. Oh, that's very funny, very funny.
- Get him out of here, please. - Sam, be nice.
Sotto is our mime-in-residence at the college and a visitor to this country.
- Whatever. - Hi! My name's Woody Boyd!
- Woody, you don't have to shout. - Oh, he's a lip-reader.
Sam, what would you say if I told you that Sotto has generously offered
to entertain your customers?
- No. - Oh, please.
- No. - I predict that by the end
of the evening you'll have fallen in love with this art form,
and Sotto will have picked up a lot of spare change.
See, this is the stuff I hate.
Sam, this is his art.
- Well, just keep his art out of my face. - Thank you, Sam.
Hey, would you please get off my bar there?
You won't regret this.
Oh, so where's your fly boy off to this time, Carla?
Cairo. He's gonna buzz the Sphinx for me in his 747.
Good Lord.
Even the stick's jealous.
I just can't wait to meet this guy face to face.
Although I am gonna play hard to get.
I intend to meet him with all my clothes on.
Carla, since you mentioned it,
when are you going to meet this Mitch fellow?
Well, he's doing the Paris to Bombay flight now.
I have to wait until they switch him back to the domestic route.
- You know, life's funny. - Why is that?
I mean, today I'm with Mitch on top of the world.
And just a couple of weeks ago, I'd have settled for fish bait
- like Vinnie Claussen. - Who's Vinnie Claussen?
Some loser who had the nerve to answer my ad.
Carla? Yeah, wait, wait, hold on a second here.
Listen, maybe you should reconsider this.
- You know, Mitch is out of town a lot. - Yeah.
Maybe you might like this Vinnie guy.
Yeah, there's nothing wrong with playing the field.
Except with someone who's grazing in it.
- What are you talking about? - Look at this guy.
Fetch.
Really, take a look at him. He's not that bad-looking.
Yeah, but next to Mitch he looks like a weasel.
But looks aren't everything, Carla.
I mean, Vinnie, I bet he's got a lot of stuff going for him.
Oh, I don't know about you, but being a funeral director seems darn near
- as thrilling as aviation to me. - Yeah, they got flowers, limousines.
Hey, forget it, forget it, all right? I'm through with bozos like that.
I'm at the University of Mitch now.
Well, I hope you're all proud of yourselves.
Carla is now turning down living, breathing human beings
for your mythical aviator.
Guys, how come we didn't see this one coming?
Oh, this from a group who every year fails to see winter coming.
Thanks for reminding me, Diane. I gotta take those screens down.
Hey, Sam, what time does the floor show end?
Yeah, I got it, I got it, I got it.
Hey, come here, come here, come here.
Listen, Sotto, we gotta talk.
Yeah, all right, all right. Now, don't do this.
Listen, the whole--
That's very clever, yeah.
Listen, you've been here three hours. This is just not working out.
I'm gonna start losing customers here.
I'm afraid I'm gonna have to ask you to leave.
Now, I want you to beat it.
Oh, God, don't tempt me, man. Don't...
- Sam, is there a problem? - Yeah, get him out of here
before there's clown white all over the walls.
- Yeah. - Sotto.
I think my attempt at enlightening Sam has failed.
I'm afraid you're going to have to go.
So I'll see you tomorrow.
I know. I know what will win them over.
Do your robot that winds down.
Wonderful. You're a master. What control.
Mime putting.
Same time tomorrow?
He spoke! It's a miracle!
Yeah, okay, all right.
From now on nobody works in this bar that wears more makeup than you do.
All right.
Excuse me. My name is Vinnie Claussen.
How do you do? Well, you don't look like a weasel.
Thank you. Neither do you.
- Is Carla Tortelli here? - Oh, just a minute.
Hey, Carla?
- Vinnie Claussen is here to see you. - What's he doing here?
You better not watch this, kid.
You're about to see a guy's dreams dashed on the rocks of Tortelli Point.
- Carla? - Yeah.
- I'm Vinnie Claussen. - Yeah, I know, I got your letter.
Already?
Oh, I was hoping to meet you before you got it.
I don't express myself very well on paper,
and it's not the best picture of me--
Look, Vinnie, Vinnie, I really-- I don't wanna see you making a fool
of yourself in front of all these people.
The fact of the matter is someone beat you to me.
Oh, gee, I'm sorry to hear that.
Especially now that I've met you.
Well, I'd offer her as a consolation prize,
but you're probably sick of dealing with stiffs.
Well, I guess I'll be leaving then.
- Yeah, better luck next time. - Sam.
Vinnie, let me buy you a drink here, would you? Take care of him.
- Carla, can I talk to you for a second? - Yep.
So how long you been interested in dead guys?
Listen, before I start, do me a favor, will you?
Stick your hands in your pockets and keep them there till I'm finished.
- What's going on? - Just humor me, will you?
Okay, but don't start in on me about going out with this Claussen guy.
I mean, he's all right, but he's no Mitch.
Listen to me.
Mitch doesn't exist. The guys and I made him up.
- You what? - Well, you were so depressed
we figured we had to do something, so we made the guy up,
wrote the letters and rented a post office box for you to write to him.
Oh, damn.
- Damn, I forgot the feet. - You are scum.
You are the scum that scum scrapes off the bottom of their shoes.
You're always looking at the negative side to everything.
I hate your guts. I hate every one of you. I mean, why did you do this?
What, was it some big laugh, huh? You wanted to see me get all moony-eyed
and then yank the rug out. Was that it, get a big laugh?
- No, sweetheart. - No? Then what did you do it for?
What did you think was gonna come of this?
Well, we had that covered. We weren't gonna let you get hurt.
When it came time to meet the guy, we were gonna have the plane
go down in the South Pacific.
Damn!
- Okay, I'm sorry. - Hey, just drop dead twice.
Carla, wait. Wait. Now, there's something you don't understand.
What they did was imbecilic, moronic and ill-conceived.
Oh, that's the way, sugarcoat it.
But it was not done to make you the butt of a joke.
It was done because your friends saw their dear friend hurting.
And they wanted to help.
Now, you can either walk out of here angrily,
or you can trust your friends and forgive them.
And take advantage of the opportunity seated at the bar.
Come on, why don't you give the guy a chance?
I mean, he answered your ad. He's dying to date you.
Hey, where do you think you're going?
- Oh, I finished my drink. - Sit down!
Nice touch, nice touch.
Does this--? Does this mean you're gonna go out with him?
- I'm thinking about it. - All right, okay, okay.
Actually,
in a dimly lit bar he's not the worst thing I've ever seen.
Writes a good letter.
I'd probably give him as big a thrill as this Mitch guy was giving me.
Get out of here.
Honey, what do you say?
Oh, all right, you're off the hook. Just tell me one thing.
Who wrote all those lovey parts?
Oh, that was my department.
You did a real good job.
Well, I'm sorry if I got carried away there. But with you, it's kind of easy.
So they say.
So how do you feel about girls on the rebound?
Oh, I've dated a few. Mostly widows.
Yeah. Let's get out of here, huh?
Oh, I know this real nice restaurant.
Great, great. So you like kids, huh?
Like them? I love them. I got seven of my own.
- Carla. Carla. - I'm joking. I'm only joking.
Hey, Vinnie, could you do me a favor?
I mean, just for tonight, could you pretend that your name is Mitch
and that you're an airline pilot?
Well, I guess.
If you'll call yourself Raven and pretend you're a Vegas showgirl.
You're weird. I like that.