All language subtitles for Episode 523 Cheers - The Motion Picture

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.