I've always liked the notion of meeting the great figures of history. But then I think, what if it's like high school, and all the cool dead people don't want to hang out with me? Mozart will tell me he's busy, but then later, I'll see him out with Shakespeare and Lincoln. ~ Niles Crane, on the afterlife
Those who know me, and even those who don't but who read this blog, know that I watch Frasier over and over again with the devotion of a soap opera addict. I laugh at the same jokes and cry at the same poignant moments at each repeated viewing as if I were hearing and watching them for the first time. So it is with the above speech, which occurs in season four, episode twelve, "Death and the Dog." This speech always makes me laugh, but beneath the laughter is rueful self-recognition. There is great truth in the saying that the best comedy is a mirror in which we see ourselves, including (perhaps especially) the parts we don't like to acknowledge or remember. Great comedy enables us to look at these uncomfortable aspects and laugh at them, which in turn can be very therapeutic. Thus, laughter is indeed the best medicine.
One of the reasons I love Frasier so much, besides the ingenious writing and brilliant acting, is the character of Niles. Never mind my David Hyde Pierce Mega-Fan status; as a matter of fact, I took to Niles even before I took to the actor. I see so much of myself in him, it's revelatory, comforting, and discomfiting, all at once. He is a therapist, and in a strange way, he's my therapist, because watching and listening to him dredges up long-buried issues in myself; but seeing him evolve throughout the eleven seasons, seeing him grow stronger and more confident (after he divorces Maris), so that by the end of the last season he is an exemplary husband and father, compassionate, and much more tolerant than he is in the first season, provides me with a kind of triumphant underdog self-affirmation.
To be sure, Niles shares many characteristics with his brother Frasier: they're both pretentious, highly intelligent, and they both have that particular competitiveness born of deep-rooted insecurity. But there is a crucial difference between them: this same insecurity manifests itself in Frasier in an over-blown ego that is often unbearable. In Niles, however, it manifests itself in a very different way, quite opposite from Frasier -- in a fundamental lack of confidence, which, perversely but predictably, makes Niles lovable; "needy" is so often appealing. True, Maris didn't help him with his insecurity, even exacerbated it, but it has its origin in Niles' childhood and came to full flower in high school.
The speech above is funny, but also telling. In it, Niles unconsciously reveals the very reason he was ridiculed and marginalized in school, by identifying such lofty figures as Mozart, Shakespeare, and Lincoln as "the cool kids." His schoolmates would have instead named rock stars and athletes. On one level, Niles is aware that his tastes and intellect were indirectly responsible for his marginalization, but on another level, he knows these things were also his source of strength, and that his being marginalized served to make him stronger as well. Gifted people, precisely because of their gifts, often feel themselves to be isolated, different from others. Aging and maturing then act as nature's equalizers, and the gifted eventually learn to use their gifts in the service of others, as Niles did by becoming a psychiatrist, thereby doing great service to themselves by building their own self-esteem and confidence. The isolation turns outward, dissipating with the development and proper use of those gifts -- and also, in Niles' case, by finding true love, which he never would have found, had he not developed confidence in himself.
I've learned a lot from Niles Crane. He's a wonderful psychiatrist.
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