‘Genie in a Bottle’ is a recurring feature where each week a different bottle episode (an episode set entirely in one location, often designed to save money) from a comedy series is examined
“What’s taking so long? Shouldn’t the wedding have started by now?â€
Cheers is just the best. It’s such a consistent, impressive, bewildering display of talent with one of the most humble stories behind it. Watching this struggling show turn into an unstoppable juggernaut – yet deserve every ounce of it – is a thing to behold. There’s a reason that it’s regarded as such a tentpole of sitcom history, and if you’ve never pulled up a barstool at this hazy locale you’re really depriving yourself of something special.
In spite of the show going through transitions like casting changes and a slowly shifting voice, it remained solid for a staggering eleven seasons. Even as the show’s style broadened in the later years as it adopted more of a “having fun for the sake of having fun†attitude, it still worked, which can plainly be seen with this episode.
Cheers is a show that could by and large be considered a “bottle series,†as nearly every episode is situated solely in the titular bar. It’s really an art to watch how scenes and dialogue play out accordingly, as there are a scarce amount of transitions being used. As a result, many episodes of Cheers would qualify for this feature, but it seemed only appropriate to single out one that not only respects nearly all of the bottle episode conventions, but also removed the gang from their familiar booze-drenched haunt.
Cheers was also very much a show about finding true friendship amongst the loners and derelicts in a local bar. However, when telling a story about marriage – true companionship – they interestingly move outside of their safe haven. They have companionship, but there is still more powerful bonding beyond that. Now, wedding episodes can largely be a drag, but this one subverts all of those preconceptions beautifully. It’s wonderfully Cheers’ take on what a wedding episode of television should look like, just as an Always Sunny or Community wedding episode would be far different than the sappy norm (although they would do more saccharine versions of this later on). For starters, the episode ends when Woody and Kelly’s wedding starts, with the episode’s concerns lying in the build up to all of this rather than showing the wedding itself.
It’s enlightening that this madcap wedding craziness would not only be returned to later in Cheers’ run, but also towards the end of Frasier’s tenure, where their very final episode, which featured an important marriage, would also displace the cast into an unusual setting for much of the runtime. These were episodes of TV that weren’t so much interested in delivering a heartstring tugging, overly romantic depiction of a wedding on television, but rather highlighting the chaos and bundling of nerves that happens to most people on the cusp of their nuptials. In this respect, it makes perfect sense to use the occasion of a wedding as the framework for a bottle episode. What other circumstance has you thrown together with squabbling members of disparate families where more than anything else you’re left pining for the feeling of escape? We even have the silly tradition of the bride and groom not seeing each other on their wedding day before the big moment happens – a concept that is designed around the idea of having space, freedom, and calm – all values that a bottle episode is quick to destroy. Here, not only will you not get your peaceful segregation pre-wedding, you won’t even be able to leave the same room that your soon-to-be spouse is in. Wedding episodes are a good mark for showing our characters at their craziest, so to lock all of that into an enclosed space together cranks up the emotions that everyone is feeling even more.
Now granted, this might not seem like a bottle episode when it begins, but stick with me here. The episode begins naturally enough with everyone still in Cheers, albeit dressed to the nines and ready to begin working and attending Woody’s wedding, but this subtle first act (whose allowance to breathe and take its time also aids it greatly) almost makes the impact of when the “bottle†hits all the more powerful. We’re treated to almost a prologue-like first act that sets the scene before placing us into unfamiliarity (the Gaines’ kitchen), and the fact that this episode is twice as long makes a single scene change excusable here.
It’s also worth noting that this was an example of Cheers doing a double-stuffed, hour-long episode over a decade before shows like The Office would resort to such events for overhyped ratings stunts. There wasn’t a single iota of manipulation going on here, but rather merely Cheers’ creative team trying to turn out the best finale possible, with Woody’s wedding being the most logical centerpiece to hang it all on.
Although Cheers was about unity and friendship through its entire run, this episode especially hits those points home through both its structure and content. The episode starts with everyone sharing congratulations with Woody over the long overdue consummation of his relationship with Kelly; never before has he felt more like one of the guys. And by the end of the episode, he’s entered an even more powerful union with Kelly. The episode underscores these themes so strongly by presenting forced union and the consensual kind, turning it into an even more satisfying finale.
With everyone effectively in wedding mode, the Cheers crew is re-positioned to the staging zone of the Gaines’ kitchen as they get ready for the wedding all episode. It’s great that the episode doesn’t make its designated bottle the actual church or the altar, but instead something refreshing like this. It’s also shocking to see how quickly the characters and James Burrows’ direction basically turn this kitchen into their bar, especially when noting how everyone is staggered in the area and the respective tasks they’re stuck with.
While a lot of the time emotional issues are what are keeping people held up in their respective bottle in these sort of endeavors, here the gang is physically trapped in the kitchen, with the threat of hilariously angry Dobermans (who are named Hitler and Attila) who attack anyone that cross their path, looming outside. Now, it’s worth mentioning that there still is another exit to the kitchen, but this entrance is practically used as a roving gag machine (most notably when Sam first meets the comely cousin Monika). It almost feels like an improv game, as one character will be pushed out the set of doors just as another one is being ushered in. It allows a number of different dynamics to populate the kitchen, with someone from the core group always remaining there. It’s the perfect extra sort of manic icing to put on this surreal wedding cake.
This episode operates with the complicated effectiveness of a top piece of theater, and the sort of art form that the creative team here would later perfect so well on Frasier. Everyone has something to do here, and watching them all negotiate around their respective tasks in this cramped, increasingly busy kitchen is a testament to how effortlessly this show could operate by the time it was in its tenth season. The pacing is honestly insane here and I’m still astounded at just how much comedy they manage to hammer out of this. All of these seemingly random elements come culminate in the final moments in an inspired fashion, years before dovetailing plotlines became par for the course from Seinfeld and Curb Your Enthusiasm. It’s truly a skilled juggling act that keeps throwing more flaming chainsaws into the mix. All of this of course being deliciously prophesized by Carla’s horoscope reading that “this wedding will be a disaster.â€
There are sublime moments of comedy here, like when Sam thinks he finally has this disaster under control: “Alright, see? No need to panic. Everything’s under control here.†And then the sword-wielding jealous beau of Monika bursts into the kitchen demanding a duel. Many of these characters’ goals directly oppose others, so watching an impeccably timed game of people hiding things (which cardinally includes the corpse of the minister who they’re hiding in the dumb-waiter like a ticking time bomb) from one another in a minuscule area is a great deal of fun and a smart way to use the bottle they’re trapped in. From top to bottom, “An Old-Fashioned Wedding†is not only the right way to do a wedding episode of a sitcom, but also how to properly pace a double-sized episode of a comedy.
The worst thing about this entry is that we don’t get to see any of Lilith’s elaborate distraction performance. You can’t just tease a three-cleaver finish.