Mountie Sings the Blues
air date November 18, 1998
( Scene 1 )
I didn't care for Thatcher's extreme short hair in e.g. "Seeing is Believing," but as it's been growing on her I suppose it's been growing on me. That is, by e.g. "Perfect Strangers" when it wasn't brand-new just-shorn any more, it kind of had an anticipating-Rachel-Maddow vibe, and it looked good for the 30 seconds she was on the screen in "Dead Men Don't Throw Rice," and now she's rocking a definite Hillary Clinton helmet (including the blonde highlights) and making it work. At this point I no longer miss the bubble flip she was wearing back in season 2.
( Scene 2 )
Turnbull, by the way, has pistol qualifications on his sleeves, which I don't remember noticing if he had before, but I've looked into it and can report that he had no decorations of any kind in "Bird in the Hand;" he was wearing the blue overcoat so we couldn't see his tunic sleeves in "All the Queen's Horses;" he had the pistol qualification but no stars in "Burning Down the House;" and he had, as noted at the time, one star (and also the pistol qual) starting from "Bounty Hunter."
In what percentage of movies and shows and plays would the fact that Fraser and Earl Jeffers take such an instant dislike to each other be a matter of particular interest? We'll never get the Fraser/Jeffers ship off the ground at this point, but in a Hallmark movie, the two of them would be together by the end of the first hour, wouldn't they? (Is this because Paul Gross and David Keeley, who plays Jeffers, are best buds—that is, am I seeing chemistry between the actors rather than the characters? Something they didn't bother to play down, the way they must have done with respect to Fraser and Miss Cabot as played by Teri Polo, who like Paul Gross is basically a walking chemistry generator, or Fraser and That Russian Spy as played by Martha Burns, to whom Paul Gross is in fact married?)
I feel like there's a lot of room between 200 seats and 50,000 seats. Last fall my husband and I learned that a performer we really like was going to be in town playing a very small theater (a couple hundred seats) for maybe two or three nights. It was sold out long before we even heard about it. Next thing we knew the same act was coming back like less than six months later—and had sold out two nights in an 1800-seat venue also almost before we knew it. I understand Tracy's desire to perform in an intimate space where she can make a connection with her audience, but there's a reason the really big acts play the giant arenas, and it's because when that many people want tickets to a thing it's not always great for it to be too exclusive. It sounds like scalpers are maybe the least of her problems. If she wants to play a 200-seat club, is she prepared to do the same show 100 nights in a row so all her paying customers can have a crack at her? Could she maybe compromise on something with a number of seats in the low to mid four figures, where people would count as having been in the same room with her and not have to see the whole show on a JumboTron but a riot or crush could be avoided?
( Scene 3 )
So I assume tonight's show is cancelled?
Credits roll.
Paul Gross
Callum Keith Rennie
Beau Starr
Camilla Scott
Tony Craig | Tom Melissis
Ramona Milano
and Gordon Pinsent as Fraser Sr.
(plus Draco the dog)
Dean McDermott, Michael Hogan, Ronnie Hawkins, Shawn Doyle, David Keeley, Dan Lett, and Michelle Wright as Tracy Jenkins
( Scene 4 )
I feel like Tracy's asking the wounded officer's name is a much more graceful character note—look how nice she is, she cares about people, she's a celebrity but not an asshole about it (which is not a position the show has taken about celebrities in the past)—than the "music is about getting closer to the people" thing in scene 2.
( Scene 5 )
Huey and Dewey are not being a lot less annoying here than I assume they would be if Francesca claimed she were a fan of Tracy Jenkins's music, viz., "Oh, yeah? Name three of her albums." Note, however, that when her house was burning down Francesca didn't notice at first because she had Linda Ronstadt on the tape deck, so, you know, she's going to want to be careful how hard she throws those stones.
( Scene 6 )
At last, a woman is coming to stay at the consulate on Fraser's invitation and it makes some goddamn sense. I was hoping that would happen sooner or later.
( Scene 7 )
Further evidence that Tracy is awfully nice. I guess a guest character has to have some character traits, and sure, being just a genuinely nice person could be one of them. It makes a nice change. 😃 It adds weight to the why-would-someone-want-to-hurt-her angle, sort of the obverse of the Murder, She Wrote way you can tell who the murder victim is going to be inside the first five minutes. (Likewise, in MSW, Dwight here would be an instant suspect according to local law enforcement, but we the viewers would know he couldn't possibly have done it.)
Incidentally, Tracy Jenkins is Canada's sweetheart, so how come she's based in Nashville? Don't they record country music anywhere else?
Kitty Wells did sing "It Wasn't God Who Made Honky Tonk Angels" in 1952, so Dewey wins this round.
( Scene 8 )
The saskatoon berry is the western serviceberry, which is apparently not unlike the blueberry and not, as I thought, poisonous; that must be something else. They're eaten fresh or dried; used to make jam, wine, and cider; and, fun fact, often added to pemmican.
( Scene 9 )
[sigh] Monica Lewinsky was a White House intern whose abbreviated dalliance with Bill Clinton was made national news when Linda Tripp taped their phone calls—hers and Monica's—and sold the recordings to Newsweek, eventually leading to Clinton's impeachment for perjury. (Having an affair with an intern isn't itself a crime.) She was, as she has described herself, Patient Zero of the 24-hour news cycle. I'm not going to link to her Wikipedia page, though I'm sure you can find it if you're interested; I do recommend the You're Wrong About episode about that whole chapter in U.S. history. Anyway, that was all current events in 1998 and 1999, so Kowalski's reference pins this episode firmly in its time.
( Scene 10 )
( Scene 11 )
That's pretty quick for Fraser to fess up to having been wrong, huh? Good for him. (And Kowalski enjoys every syllable of it; good for him too.)
( Scene 12 )
Kowalski does something very strange with his voice and his upper lip when he says "Oh, well! Very, very sorry." It's a strange kind of nasal overtone—strange because it's not as if his voice isn't quite nasal to start with. Puzzling.
( Scene 13 )
( Scene 14 )
She's so nice! But even the nicest people in the world have their limits, and apparently 21.5 verses of Turnbull's song might be too much for her.
( Scene 15 )
I'm finalizing this transcript in the final week of rehearsals for a concert in which my chorus is joining up with another group, the members of which who are sitting near me are . . . hmm, much less precise with their pitch than I try to be with mine. I feel Tracy's pain in this scene.
( Scene 16 )
I feel like it's important to sort out this kind of philosophical differences before you begin an artistic collaboration.
( Scene 17 )
Poor Arlene. (Though here's Tracy being genuinely nice again.) But listen: Her assignment is apparently to sing one note (C5, if you're interested), and she's blowing it. Five hundred dollars an hour? In 1998? I'm not cute and blonde, but I'd sing that note for $500/hour here in 2023. Sign me up. No, that's actually probably what they're paying for the studio space, not what they're paying Arlene herself. But here's the question: Why are they recording in Chicago? If Tracy's in town to do a couple of shows, great, but is this a time to be laying down a single?
I'm actually very impressed with the actress playing Arlene, because singing that badly on purpose—she's missing the right note and landing in the space between C and B flat—is not actually that easy and she's doing a nice job and being a sport about it.)
At $500/hour, five minutes is indeed $41.66⅔, so probably actually $41.67.
( Scene 18 )
( Scene 19 )
Okay. My whole life, I don't know what the hell this means. Release the vocal, sure, a higher key can be easier to sing in, not just because the notes are easier to reach and you might avoid the area of the singer's range where the voice breaks but also because it can just feel different. The different feeling is also true of many instruments; playing in a key with two flats (that is, B flat major or G minor) is easier on the piano, for example, than playing in a key with three sharps (A major or F sharp minor). I don't play guitar, so I couldn't tell you how easy it is to transpose just by capoing up and playing the same chords. You'd think it would be no big deal, right?, but you'd also think a singer with good relative pitch can sing in whatever key you put her in, but like I said, the different keys do feel different coming out of your mouth, so who knows. But ease the tempo? The tempo? What the fuck. Plus, Arlene was singing off pitch, but not out of time; the tempo didn't even need "easing." (Different tempos are easier and harder to sing in, but I do not believe the key affects the tempo at all. Fight me.)
Also, though, I have a little keyboard here, and I'm here to tell you that in scenes 15 and 17, Tracy Jenkins and Arlene and the band were recording the song in C. The refrain "Nobody's girl — she walks this world alone" went E-D-C-C, A-G-E-D-C-E. Fraser first picks it out on the piano in G flat—the refrain goes Bb-Ab-Gb-Gb, Eb-Db-Bb-Ab-Gb-Bb—that is, a diminished fifth above where they were playing. He then moves up to pick it out in C, but in the octave above where Tracy was singing it before—a diminished fifth above his all-the-black-keys experiment. THERE HAVE BEEN NO MINOR THIRDS IN THIS CONVERSATION. Will somebody just play this damn thing in E flat and put me out of my misery?
( Scene 20 )
Tracy's been so nice to everyone this whole time. And not just to their faces, right, because she talked about getting closer to the people and asked about Officer McCafferty, so it's not just a kind of phoniness where she's nice when you can hear her but mean behind your back. And she did tell George there was no need to be mean even when Arlene had already stomped away. So when she brings the snark—didn't know which bar to call to find Dwight, Arlene must have some talent but singing isn't it—it's even more surprising? But there's no real bite in her voice when she says it. Maybe snarking doesn't come naturally to her.
( Scene 21 )
Sure, at $500/hour, let's just try an experiment. No sense in, say, ending the session, going somewhere to rehearse in the new key, and then coming back and recording it once you've determined whether it works.
( Scene 22 )
Elvis Presley died in 1977, of course, so Jeffers is yanking Kowalski's chain here. But why did he leave the Memphis Police Department? This show has trained us to believe that with few exceptions (Laurie Zaylor), the ways to leave a police department are to die (Bob Fraser, Louis Gardino, Jake Botrelle) or to be crooked and get your ass arrested for it (Gerrard, maybe Kevin Spender if we're considering him a cop, Sgt. Kilrea, Sam Franklin). Who retires?
( Scene 23 )
TOTALLY ADORABLE.
In other news, Milano's face is looking quite a bit less puffy than it did in "Dead Men Don't Throw Rice," but the camera is keeping that TV cart right between itself and her, and when it can't, it's filming her entirely from the shoulders up, so we can assume we're still doing the must-hide-the-actress's-pregnancy thing. BUT then what's with Turnbull specifying that he's inviting Francesca for a nonalcoholic, caffeine-free, sugarless beverage? I'm now beginning to reassess my impression; maybe the show is giving us a Francesca who is trying to hide her own pregnancy (and mostly succeeding, if Turnbull is the only one—with the possible addition of the desk sergeant—who can tell).
( Scene 24 )
This time they are in fact playing the song in E flat, thank God, even though that was none of the keys Fraser plunked it in on the piano in scene 19; the refrain is now G-F-Eb-Eb, C-Bb-G-F-Eb-G. Fraser is singing the melody on the backup part, which is different than Arlene was singing; one wonders if Arlene might have been okay if she'd been asked to sing a straight Eb5. Maybe C5 was in her break? I'm just saying, two variables (the key and the actual backup line) have been changed here, so it's hard to say which one was the one that made the difference. . . . Exactly two variables, by the way, because although we're doing this a minor third up from where we were before, the tempo is exactly the same.
It will shock none of you to learn that when Michelle Wright (who plays Tracy Jenkins, of course) originally released the song in 1996, she sang it in E flat, the key they're playing it in now. (And the backup vocal wasn't Arlene's one-note thing.) Which means she was singing it in the "wrong" key in scenes 15 and 17, which must have felt weird but isn't impossible for a, you know. Professional musician. What's totally weird is how in scene 21, when Fraser is plunking (still in C) and she comes in and sings along, she does a convincing pretense of reaching for unfamiliar intervals . . . in the key she was just singing in a moment ago herself. [hands]
Whatever. We're in E flat now, and please let's stay there.
( Scene 25 )
I LOVE THEM YOUR HONOR
See, Francesca was right not to marry the German dude who looks like Fraser. Obviously she should be with Turnbull and Fraser was just not quite the right Mountie for her. I think the use of Willie Nelson is very nice here, although Turnbull doesn't actually have anything to apologize to Francesca for—it should be "Maybe I didn't love you, etc.; you were always on his mind," or "Maybe he didn't love you, etc., you were always on my mind."
Okay okay. The poem she quotes is T.S. Eliot's "The Hollow Men," which begins "We are the hollow men / We are the hollow men / We are the stuffed men" and ends, famously, with "This is the way the world ends / Not with a bang but with a whimper." I am not convinced that she knows any of the rest of it, but the fact that she comes up with the first line shows that maybe she has retained a shred of something from her 10th grade English class? Look, she's trying to connect with Turnbull, I'm going to give her full marks for effort.
The song Turnbull refers to is "Old Rivers" by (I am not making this up) Academy Award winner Walter Brennan, in which the narrator remembers an old man (old Rivers) he knew as a child. Rivers had a mule named Midnight, who would pull his plow, and he dreamed about going to heaven where the crops would grow tall without anyone having to work hard for it. The lunch Turnbull has whipped up in his buddy's kitchen is, as near as I can work out, grilled tagliatelle with tomato and basil from Fieramosca, which is (among other things) the name of a restaurant in Toronto.
( Scene 26 )
Aww, has Fraser always been on Kowalski's mind? ❤️
( Scene 27 )
I guess finding Diefenbaker shut in whatever room that was confirms to Fraser that someone put him in there so he wouldn't make noise about Tracy's leaving? Bit tacky of her to run off alone when she knows perfectly well that someone's gunning for her.
( Scene 28 )
Ew.
( Scene 28 continues. )
(Hey, another mule.)
Well, now we know why he left the Memphis PD to work personal security. Bit surprising George wouldn't have done a background check for someone in that position, but maybe he changed his name? Which I guess is a thing people do in this universe and somehow that fools everyone for long enough.
( Scene 29 )
I like this young woman applying "which is, ugh, typical" to the guy dying before he could pay his check just as offhandedly as she applies it to her co-worker leaving her to work the floor alone (presumably again).
( Scene 30 )
"What I'm told is a form of modern dance," he says, as if he didn't himself solve a case involving an exotic dancer just, like, two years ago. (Maybe he forgets that episode as easily as, for some reason, I do.)
( Scene 31 )
I don't see why the tape isn't more informative than that when we could clearly see the guy taping the bachelor party—with Jeffers behind it—right before Jeffers was killed.
( Scene 32 )
So where did she go? When did she get back? Is that just not actually a plot point anymore? Is George's affection for her maybe not 100% avuncular?
( Scene 33 )
Oh nooo, it's another dark-haired country girl come along to break Fraser's heart. Be strong, Fraser!
I am, however, delighted to tell you that Flin Flon, Manitoba, is a real place.
(But I'd prefer if Tracy had said "stepped on a stage" or "set foot on a stage," because "step foot" has been driving me bananas since—well, at least 1998, probably before. I know it's prescriptivist. I try to do better. It's good to have areas in which one can improve.)
( Scene 34 )
Is this the first time in the history of television that an unnamed uniformed police officer has just quietly got on with doing his actual job?
( Scene 35 )
"Innocent" is probably a bit generous, but I suppose Fraser means only with respect to the particular crime they're talking about here.
( Scene 36 )
The fixation with his mother does in fact start to nudge Dunn from ordinary creep into Norman Bates–adjacent territory.
( Scene 37 )
Megafan turns out not to be completely without value? Film at 11.
( Scene 38 )
( Scene 39 )
Huey and Dewey's song is bound to be crap, but all the lyrics are in fact the lyrics to "Two Houses" by Paul Gross and David Keeley:
Don't call me for supper if you don't mean to feed me
Don't tell me you love me with that gun in your hand
'Cause I fall down dumbfounded
In the face of your beauty
Yeah, one look from you and I am a fool
In the palm of your hand
There's a house we call love built next door to hate
And both of them got lawns and a white picket gate
Their taxes don't differ and their water's the same
But in one you get comfort and the other house shame
Hey, do you mind if I speak
You know I'd like to be frank
Your cooking is wretched and this coffee is rank
But I look 'cross this table
Into the clutch of your eyes
And I'm kind of thrilled that we have been cursed
To live side by side
Sigh. (I don't know the Gross-Keeley song, so I don't know if Huey and Dewey are making up a crappier tune to it or just singing it badly. I can't get past the fact that "Their taxes don't differ and their water's the same" scans perfectly to "On top of Old Smokey, all covered with snow"—or possibly, in the circumstances, "On top of spaghetti, all covered with cheese.")
( Scene 40 )
( Scene 41 )
Do we conclude from this that it was George who killed Jeffers? I'm not sure the dots are all connected there. Why would he? I mean, if he's in love with Tracy, why would he shoot her, either, come to that. Was it him on the rooftop in scene 3? Why would he need a fan club photo—was he trying to throw suspicion on a fan? Wasn't he in on the decoy plan? Did he "miss" and only hit Officer McCafferty in the shoulder on purpose? He thinks she's going to change her management and abandon him (because he only books her into giant arenas and she wants someone handling her appearances who gives a shit about what she wants, i.e., playing smaller venues), so his idea is to scare her away from a smaller venue with the idea that a crazed fan could Get Too Close. Okay. So she wasn't in any real danger in scene 3 (or wouldn't have been even if it had been her) and wasn't really in any danger just now, either—except then he grabbed her and pressed the gun to her neck. What's that about? And, circling back to the beginning, why kill Jeffers? Because he was embarrassing her by getting trophies for Dunn? Because he wanted her to depend on him utterly? Was he going to kill Dwight next? Muddy Johnson? The rest of the band?
( Scene 42 )
Look, it's not that I don't think Paul Gross is one of those performers who's irritatingly capable at whatever it is they try to do. (Except dancing, possibly. And, as I've said, crying.) I just think he's a better actor than he is a singer. His singing is perfectly competent—I'm not even mad about how far he opened his mouth on the sustained "girl," which I usually am when people sing on TV and in movies (I mean, exhibit A: the man himself singing "Ride Forever"), so well done, really singing—but he manages to look, while he's singing, like he's just so happy and flattered to be up there, and while the audience are applauding, like he's a little bit overwhelmed by the praise, which I absolutely believe is true of Fraser but do not for one minute believe is true of Paul Gross himself, who I'm sure is a very nice guy but who I expect usually assumes, like most successful actors, that he deserves to be in whatever spotlight he finds himself in at any given time. Put another way: I find the singing to be fine and the acting to be very convincing indeed. 😄
Dewey, of course, is referring to the comedy acts Laurel and Hardy, Abbott and Costello, and Milton Berle (not Milt and Berle; what a dingus). Francesca is still on about her hat issue.
( Scene 43 )
I can't find that exact portrait of the Queen in a cursory few minutes of googling, and I don't care enough to track it all the way down, but I'd say it's from some time in the 1980s; her hair is still dark, so it's too early for the Golden Jubilee and probably even pre-1992, but her face is a little older than it appears in the Silver Jubilee portraits. She's wearing a blue dress; a dark cape or robe; a couple of orders on her left shoulder (but the ribbons look like the wrong colors to be the Royal Family Orders of George V and George VI, so I'm stumped); a necklace, earrings, and bracelet that are probably rubies because she tended to wear red jewelry for Canada; and a tiara that I can't see clearly enough to identify.
If Fraser is annoyed at the Queen for keeping him at his desk instead of going off on tour with Tracy Jenkins, it's probably just as well that he not go off on tour with Tracy Jenkins, isn't it? If she's going to reconcile with her husband, none of them needs Fraser hanging around catching feelings for yet another dark-haired woman who's going to do him wrong. (At least this one didn't lead him on in any type of way, for a change.)
The title can only be a reference to "Lady Sings the Blues," the autobiographical 1956 Billie "Lady Day" Holiday album, or the 1956 autobiography or the 1972 film by the same name starring Diana Ross. Except for Turnbull's suggestion that country music is the white man's blues, there is nothing in this episode that has a thing to do with the blues or Billie Holiday in any way.
Cumulative body count: 36
Red uniform: The whole episode, but not always with the tunic
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