Original subtitles

Cheers is filmed before a live studio audience.

I know, Dad, but still...

Well, whatever you think is best, Dad.

Right.

Bye, Dad.

That was my dad.

Really.

Yeah, he's threatening to make me move back home to Indiana.

He's been talking to my Uncle Fergie.

The guy who was here last week?

I thought he had a great time.

Well, he did.

But all he told them about was the two times he got mugged.

Oh, that was just bad luck. Yeah.

Woody, you've lived here two years.

How many times you been mugged?

Ten. But...

You know, that's including the two times with Uncle Fergie.

Oh.

So now my parents are convinced that Boston is a dangerous town

and all my friends are seedy lowlifes.

Well, surely they don't want you to go back to Indiana

because we're a corrupting influence.

Well, who knows?

Somehow, they got the idea that every guy in Boston

is some lonely, pathetic weirdo.

Look, is this or is this not

the spitting image of George Schultz?

So, uh, Woody, what time does your bus leave?

? Making your way in the world today ?

? Takes everything you've got ?

? Taking a break from all your worries ?

? Sure would help a lot ?

? Wouldn't you like to get away? ?

? Sometimes you want to go ?

? Where everybody knows your name ?

? And they're always glad you came ?

? You want to be where you can see ?

? Our troubles are all the same ?

? You want to be where everybody knows your name ?

? You want to go where people know ?

? People are all the same ?

? You want to go where everybody knows your name. ?

Okay, let's take it again.

Diane, do we really have to do this again?

We all agreed that the best way

to persuade Woody's parents to let him stay

was to show them how decent and upstanding

his friends are, right?

Okay.

And what better way to show them

than by making a film of his everyday life?

And who better to serve as auteur than the person

who ruined the curve in her film techniques class.

Hey, Diane, shoot the damn film.

Would you tell Fellini "Shoot the damn film"?

Would you tell Antonioni "Shoot the damn film"?

Would you tell Bergman "Shoot the damn film"?

No, I'm telling you, shoot the damn film.

Better yet, shoot the damn Diane.

Please.

A little more reverence

for the words I've written.

Stick to the script.

And try to be spontaneous.

Okay.

Take 17, "Man-child in Beantown."

Action!

"You know, when, the average Joe like me gets off work,

"he needs to come to a place like this

where he can sort of unwind with his surrogate family."

"Took the words right out of my mouth, Norm.

"But it feels as if

a, uh, crucial part of our support system is missing."

"You're right.

Uh, what do you think that would be, Carla?"

"Could it be that bucolic ray of sunshine from Indiana?"

Stupid.

This whole thing is stupid, Diane!

People, people, work with me! Work with me!

I hate that. I hate...

"People, people..."

Please, Sam.

All right, all right.

Um, "You're right. Woody's not here.

"The place seems so empty

without his smiling countenance."

"Hello, buddies."

"Hello, Woody!"

"Come on over and join us for some male bonding."

"Well, that sounds good,

but first, I have to call my mother."

Awwww...!

"Yeah, it sure is refreshing to see a son

"being so considerate of his mother.

Isn't it, Carla?"

It's stupid!

"You know, my lovely and cherished..."

Fawn-like.

"...fawn-like bride-to-be, Diane Chambers..."

You're right, Carla, this is stupid.

The whole thing is stupid!

I mean, why can't we just use our own words?

Be ourselves here?

Fine, Mr. Smarty Pants.

You're such an expert, you take the camera.

Go ahead. All right.

All right, I will.

Just don't come crying to me

when the whole mise-en-scene deteriorates.

You'll find that film is an exacting art

requiring a lot more

than just knowing where the "on" button is.

Good luck.

Yeah, well, we don't need any luck.

And we don't need you, either...

Cinema Puss.

Where is the "on" button on this?

Oh, good, good, good, good.

You're just in time to see our masterpiece.

Should I alert Pauline Kael?

Well, if you want to, but tell her to get

her butt in gear, we're about to start.

Cliffie, get the lights there.

Yeah, come on.

This part was my idea.

Look at this.

Startlingly original use of the subjective camera.

No, not really.

They use it in all your finer chain saw movies.

Hi, Mom! Dad!

What a surprise!

I was hoping you'd get to see where I worked.

Welcome to the best bar in Boston.

Pretty wholesome and unseedy looking, huh?

And here are the best and most uncorrupting friends

a guy could hope to have.

Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Boyd!

First, I'd like ya to meet my boss and good friend,

Sam Malone.

Sam used to be a relief pitcher

for the Boston Red Sox.

Now he owns Cheers.

Hi! This is Sam's office.

And over there, that's Sam.

He's more than just a boss to me.

He's like the big brother I never had.

Well, except for Tom.

Hi, Woody.

Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Boyd.

Another good friend, Mr. Norm Peterson,

has been kind enough to run the camera for us today.

So, uh, Sam, you're, you're reading the Bible again huh?

Well, yeah, I...

didn't think I was gonna get caught.

Yes, I was just, uh, enjoying

St. Paul's, uh, Epistle to the Galatians.

Boy, those Galatians.

When will they listen, huh?

Woody, uh, what's going on?

Oh, well, I have a little dilemma here, Sam.

My father might call me back home

and, uh, if he does-- and I sure hope he doesn't--

what am I gonna do with this?

I mean, after all, what kind of a place

is a small farm to raise a puppy?

I was hoping you could take him, Sam.

Well, gee, Woody, I don't have the room.

I guess you'll just have to put

the poor little fella to sleep.

Put this poor puppy to sleep

because I have to leave Boston?

Well, if that's what my father wants...

What a shame, Woody.

What kind of dog is it?

What's the difference? He's gonna die.

Well, maybe your daddy will let you stay here

and take care of him.

I'd sure prefer that.

What about you, pooch?

Would you prefer that to dying?

Subtle tug at the old heartstrings there, guys.

Boy, I'll say.

Hey, shut up, everybody, you're missing my yard.

Hi! Welcome to our cookout.

Another chicken leg, Mr. Peterson?

Oh, well, nah... yeah!

What the hey, it looks pretty good

if I do say so myself.

This is my co-worker here, Carla Tortelli.

Hi.

What do we have here?

Uh, this is just the sort of family type thing

we do here in Boston.

Hi.

Say something besides "hi."

Hello.

You hear that?

Well, uh, Carla lives near the airport so...

...actually, sometimes, it's hard to hear.

Why wasn't I invited?

You didn't miss much, Diane.

Carla's kids stole the beef

and then they stuck Woody's shoes on the fire.

More smoked tongue, anyone?

Give me that!

Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Boyd. I'm...

Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Boyd.

I'm Cliff Clavin, a good pal of Woody's

and a proud member of the U.S. Postal Service.

Come on along with me and I'll show you

the kind of work we do routinely at the USPS.

Morning, Woody.

Hi, Mr. Clavin.

Hi, Judy!

Well, let's see what we got in the mail bag.

Well, look at this!

It's a letter all the way from Guam

to a man right here in Boston.

Wow! It's made it this far, and it's up to me

to see that it gets where it's intended.

Woody, I could get in big trouble for that.

Oh.

I'm only one link in this chain--

a strong link, a vital link...

A missing link.

Come on in.

Pretty impressive, huh, Woody?

Sure is, Mr. Clavin.

Hey, just think, all these letters

traveling thousands of miles over oceans and rough terrain,

right into the hands of their, uh, intended addressees.

Hey, why thanks, Woody.

You did that pretty well.

Thanks.

Would, uh, would you like to try one on your own?

Well, gee, Mr. Clavin, I'm not a government employee.

Pretty good, Woody.

I was just testing him.

Smart boy.

Yeah, Woods, next time

you lick a stamp and put it on an envelope,

drop it in that old mailbox,

be sure to give some thought to, uh,

the thousands of men and women in the U.S. Postal Service

who work very hard, day after day,

to make sure that your mail is delivered safely.

You know, Woods,

you'd make a good postal carrier yourself.

Yeah? You've got, uh, youth, stamina

and a friend down at the post office.

Oh, who's that, Mr. Clavin?

But then again, bartending is a noble profession.

But, Woody, you know there's nothing quite like

the pride a postman feels on the swift completion

of his appointed rounds.

You don't have to worry about me going hungry

if I stay here in Boston.

This town is famous for its finer health food restaurants.

Hi.

And the best of them all is the Hungry Heifer.

That's right, Woody.

I found out about this place

through a guy who's helped me plan my life here in Boston,

a good friend and my financial advisor, Mr. Norm Peterson.

Hi.

Are you hungry?

Norm!

Uh, nice place, huh?

Yeah, normally, for this sort of ambiance,

you'd have to travel to Albuquerque.

Hi, Corinne.

Hi, honey.

Studying at the feet of the master?

Huh?

What can I get you, Norm?

The, uh, Feeding Frenzy Special for two.

How about you, honey?

Well, I think he was ordering for both of us.

No. No.

Oh, well, give me just one.

Anything for you, Sam?

Smart move.

Oh, Corinne, I think you forgot the, uh, French fries.

Don't you wanna save room for dessert?

You're one step ahead of me.

They take care of you here.

Finally I want you to meet my good friend, Dr. Frasier Crane.

Now, I know what you always said about psychiatrists, Dad,

but, uh, he's not a crook or a nut case or anything.

He's a pretty smart guy.

Well, here you go, Dr. Crane.

Thank you, Woody.

Mr. and Mrs. Boyd,

in Woody, you have raised

a young man of singular character,

not easily swayed by the attitudes of those around him.

Trust him. Trust yourselves.

Let him do what he wants to with his life.

Now, let me address some of your reservations

about the psychiatric profession.

In this building, you see 18 floors

of highly trained, dedicated professionals,

whose sole purpose is to heal the mind.

And, you know, I think my mentor...

Norm, Norm, could you run that back for me, please?

...seek to find...

...you know, I think my mentor...

I've gotta tell Dr. Judd to keep his windows closed

during his depression seminar.

Well, uh, what'd you think?

After seeing that, I think

we should all move to Indiana.

I don't know how you guys did it,

but you made me out as, uh, some kind of a jerk.

Well, talk about movie magic, huh?

Maybe you're just too close to the subject, huh, Cliff?

No, I thought he looked like a jerk, too.

Yeah, you all look like jerks to me.

Oh...

May I say something?

Go ahead, go ahead.

Tell me how right you were.

Get it over with.

On the contrary,

I was about to say that I don't think

any of these people realize what a fine job you did.

Oh, right.

No, I mean that.

What you have here

is the raw material for a truly fine film.

Well, thank you.

The problem is entirely with its structure.

It's too linear.

Yeah, that was gnawing at me, too.

We need to make a film that appeals

to the emotions, not the intellect.

If you'll allow me,

I can transform your film

into a shattering emotional experience.

What are you gonna do to it?

Oh, a snip here, a snip there, nothing much.

In a world gone mad,

where can a young man go?

Where? Where?

Tell me where?

Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Boyd.

And here are the best and most uncorrupting

friends a guy could hope to have.

First, I'd like you to meet my boss

and good friend, Sam Malone.

Sam used to be a relief pitcher

for the Boston Red Sox.

Uh, this is just the sort

of family-type thing we do here in Boston.

Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Boyd.

Welcome to our cookout.

Another chicken leg, Mr. Peterson?

Be sure to give some thought to, uh,

the thousands of men and women in uniform.

In Woody, you have raised a young man of singular character,

not easily swayed by the attitudes of those around him.

Trust him. Trust yourselves.

Let him do what he wants to with his life.

Shouldn't we all have the chance

to live our lives the way we choose?

Please, give us that chance in the time we have left.

Well?

Gee, uh, you know...

Oh, you're hurt because I was the only one

who had a credit at the end.

You keep the credits.

Oh, thanks.

It's just that I felt I transformed your film

into a personal statement that was pure Diane Chambers.

It was pure something.

I don't know, Miss Chambers.

Maybe we better not send this film to my folks.

Oh, Woody, it's a fait accompli.

Was it ever.

No, I mean, I've already sent a copy to your father.

For all we know, he may be

viewing it as we speak.

Oh, I think that's a mistake.

Why?

Well, your film, uh, didn't have enough...

well, there, there was too much...

it needed a little, uh...

Yeah, and it stunk, too.

Thank you, Siskel and Ebert.

Take my word for it, after Woody's father

sees this impassioned plea for individual freedom,

there is no way he will be able to order Woody

to leave here against his will.

Well, I guess this is good-bye, then.

I just can't believe you're leaving us, Woody.

Are you sure my film

had no effect on your father?

Oh, come on, face it.

All that weird stuff

wouldn't mean anything to a guy like Mr. Boyd.

Yeah. Besides, he thought

it was too derivative of Godard.

You sure you don't mind if I take this picture, Sam?

No, I want you to have it.

While we're at it, Woody,

here.

Oh, one of your Elvis earrings.

Yeah.

Well, he was one of a kind and so are you.

Oh...

Besides, the guy I went out with last night,

he swallowed the other one.

Here.

I want you to have this.

It's a copy of Being and Nothingness.

My mother gave it to me in grade school.

Aw, thanks, Miss Chambers.

I don't think I've read this one.

Woody, uh...

a six-pack.

All the, uh, beer you've

poured me over the years, you know.

Thanks a lot, Mr. Peterson.

So, Woods, uh,

I've got a sheet of commemorative stamps here

depicting, uh, all the U.S. Presidents,

uh, well, except nine.

That's great.

Thank you, Mr. Clavin.

See, I didn't know,

I didn't know we were giving gifts.

I could, uh, could I send you something?

Ah, that's fine, Dr. Crane.

It's... been an honor knowing you, Woody.

You know, if somebody had told me,

I could've picked something up.

Uh... I gotta go.

I'll walk you to the car.

No, no, no, I... I wanna remember you guys

the way you're standing.

Bye, Woody.

Well, hell, we don't have

to stand around here forever, do we?

Does anybody know his shirt size?

Come on, let me buy you all a beer on the house, here.

No, none for me, Sammy.

Hello, Cheers.

Beer's just gonna remind me of the kid.

It'll be quite some time

before I can even touch one again.

Well, that oughta do it, I guess.

Hey, hey, it's Woody's dad.

Get him! Get him!

Oh, oh!

Woody!

Woody, your father's on the phone.

Hey, guys, how you been?

Hello? Dad?

Really?

Oh, well, thank you. Thank you.

You don't know how happy this makes me.

Yeah, I love you, too. Bye!

Oh, I can stay!

Oh, Woody!

Yeah, after reflecting on my film,

he was finally moved by its timeless message.

No, he tossed it in the thresher.

Well, what, what happened, Woody?

Someone sent him

a real simple note that changed his mind.

What did it say?

It said, "Let your son choose his own path

and it will always lead back to you."

Oh, how eloquent.

Yeah, but it wasn't signed.

Hey, come on, guys, fess up.

Who did it?

Oh, not me. No.

Don't look at me.

Carla?

Yeah, right.

I sure wish I knew who it was, so I could thank them.

Don't mention it, kid.