It’s a classic “meet cute.” A grad student is on her way to Barbados with her college professor fiancee to get married. Before their flight, they stop at a local bar for a drink. Enter the handsome bar owner, an ex-baseball player and recovering alcoholic, but also a serial Lothario. Circumstances arise which cause the college professor to abandon his fiancee, and run away with his ex-wife. Alone and abandoned, the grad student has nowhere left to go. Seeing this, the bar owner offers her a position as a waitress. Laughing off the remedial position as something beneath her, the grad student reconsiders and accepts the job. And so begins one of the most hilarious, and fruitful romantic relationships in television history: Sam and Diane.
The sitcom “Cheers” could be credited to many things. It was a show that dealt with dark subjects such as depression, sadness, regret, and loneliness. The characters were a band of lovable losers who often leaned on each other when the melancholy of the world became too much. The bar setting was an oasis to the harsh disappointments of life and a respite from worries and despair. To that effect, the show itself served as an escape for not only the characters, but the audience as well. Its sentimental theme song, which began each episode after the cold open, worked as an invitation to visit the place “where everybody knows your name.” It was a communal setting, and a perfect environment for such an eclectic group of misfits.
In the hands of other creatives, “Cheers” could have ended up being something different entirely. Afterall, the setting, and themes would have been perfect for a more heavy hitting social issues show. Yet under the close watch of creators Glen and Les Charles, as well as director James Burrows, “Cheers” was often light on its feet. There was a sophistication to the stories and writing which yielded a focus on building relationships, and defining characters. The dialogue was full of banter, and vaudevillian wordplay often sparkling with upper class wit, and sophomoric puns. It was less Norman Lear, and more Ernst Lubitsch.
The backbone to this tightrope of subtle charm and goofball humour, at least in the show’s first era, was personified in the core relationship of Sam Malone and Diane Chambers. As played by Ted Danson, and Shelley Long, Sam and Diane gave “Cheers” an added energy which was derived from classic screwball comedies. Their mutual love/hate relationship evoked pairings from Hollywood’s golden age, and both actors were up to the task to legitimise these comparisons. Because of the shared chemistry between Danson and Long, along with the smart dialogue full of unrivalled banter, it was not long before their relationship took centre stage. There was hardly ever an episode which didn’t at least hint at the ongoing sexual tension between the high brow bar maid, and the dimbulb bartender. Even though this may not be what the creators originally intended the show to be, it brought a freshness and exuberance to the American sitcom not seen before. It was with this dynamic that pushed “Cheers” further from just an ensemble comedy, to a hilarious, often poignant, and even tender screwball love story.
Sam and Diane’s relationship was a messy one to be sure. They would constantly, fight, and struggle as a way to achieve dominance over the other. Oftentimes Diane’s superior intellect would win out, however Sam would sometimes overpower through his swagger, and overall charm. We see this in one of the show’s earliest episodes entitled “Sam’s Women.” After witnessing Sam shamelessly try to pick up a beautiful woman at the bar with cheesy pick up lines, Diane is convinced such tactics would never work on intelligent women. Near the end of the episode, we are almost convinced Diane is right, however Sam turns the tables by pulling one of his lines on her:
Sam: Well I guess I've, uh, I've never looked at your eyes.
Diane: Is something wrong with them?
Sam: No, I uh, I just don't think I've ever seen eyes that color before. Matter of fact I don't think I've ever seen that color before. Yes I have, yes I have.
Diane: Where?
Sam: I was uh, I was on a ski weekend, up at Stowe. I uh, was coming in late one day – uh, last person off the slope – the sun had just gone down. And the sky became this incredible color. I usually don’t uh, notice things like that, and I found myself kind of walking around in the cold, hoping that it wouldn’t change; wishing that I had someone there to share it with me. Afterwards I tried to convince myself I had imagined that color; that I hadn’t really seen it. Nothing on this earth could be this beautiful. Now I see I was wrong. [Pause] Wouldn't work, huh?
Diane: What?
Sam: Intelligent women would see right through that.
Diane: Oh...oh! In a minute!
There is a playfulness within this exchange, and when heard through the performances of Danson and Long, one gets the idea that this is less a manipulation on Sam’s part, but more of a flirtation. Sam is seeing how far he can go with Diane. At this point in the show, he has already established a strange attraction to her, something he can’t quite pin down, because she is different from the women he is used to. Yet his boyish sensibility sees this as a challenge. Diane’s reaction is both stunned, but receptive at the same time. Her added insincere brush off at the end implies she is interested. For both characters, this dialogue reveals an invitation to keep the flirtation going. The dance has begun, and no one is signaling to stop quite yet..
The mutual attraction between Sam and Diane can often be flirtatious, yet in the world of “Cheers,” we are reminded of the loneliness that brought these two together in the first place. After all, no one just ends up in a bar without a reason. For Sam, we learn he bought the bar in his drinking days when he was throwing away his baseball career. For Diane she references a lonely childhood with distant parents. Also within the bar, her intellectual superiority rarely makes her the most popular person among the less educated characters. She is the constant victim of vicious attacks, by her meaner, and strong-willed co-worker Carla (Rhea Perlman), who always finds unique ways to torture her. She is further isolated from the other patrons by her disdain of sporting events, and low-brow discussions. Yet through it all, Sam and Diane are constantly, and maybe surprisingly always there for eachother.
In season one’s Diane-centric episode, “Let me Count the Ways”, we learn of the death of her beloved childhood cat Elizabeth Barret Browning. Diane is riddled with grief, however everyone in the bar shrugs it off as no big deal, (obviously no one she interacts with are cat lovers). Near the end of the episode Sam takes her into his office, and in a moment of heartbreak, Diane talks about how her cat was her only companion growing up, and even saved her from thoughts of suicide when her parents were breaking up. The sob story is interrupted when Sam begins crying, and it breaks the scene from getting too serious. The two share a moment of sincere emotion, until it leads to Sam misinterpreting it as an invitation for sex. They have a brief fight before it boomerangs back to genuine sympathy for Diane’s loss. Within this small scene, which lasts no more than five minutes, the episode switches from sadness, to farce, and then to tenderness. The pacing is so fast, yet it is a credit to a director like Burrows, as well as Danson and Long, who can change so quickly from comedy to drama in a heartbeat. Their dynamic can stretch to comedic lengths, but pull back to real sentiment.
This is further tested, when the show flips more to Sam’s perspective in “Endless Slumper”, a classic episode that examines his alcoholism. In it, Sam loses his lucky charm which is an old bottle cap. He lends it to a ball player in a slump, with the hope it can retain his winning streak. The repercussions of this cause Sam to run into a series of catastrophic misfortunes, which are automatically blamed by his loss of the bottle cap. It is only later revealed alone with Diane that the bottle cap came from the last bottle of beer he ever drank. Through Sam’s explanation, it was less a good luck charm, and more of a lifeline to keep whenever he had the urge to drink. Throughout this moment, Sam is perhaps the most naked he is ever allowed to get, and Danson plays him down the line, unsentimental, yet fully vulnerable. For her part, Diane is his cheerleader, friend, and confidant. She does not waver by his side, even when he tries to dismiss her. As with all episodes that hang in the balance of becoming too serious, “Cheers” breaks the tension with a small victory for Sam as he is able to overcome his dependence.
Both “Let me Count the Ways” and “Endless Slumper” are first season episodes which complement each other in how they demonstrate that Sam and Diane’s relationship was not solely built on mutual attraction. There was also genuine affection for the other which often gave way to trust and a deep understanding. We could see these characters grow from their shallowness, and actually work on creating a relationship. Of course with these characters things are destined to fall apart. They remain constantly bickering and trying to get the upper hand.
By season one, we do finally see a consummation of the relationship when Sam and Diane finally get together. This moment had been telegraphed and teased constantly throughout the season’s twenty-two episodes. The two are in Sam’s office, they fight, they yell, they threaten violence, until finally they can’t take it anymore, and embrace in one big passionate kiss: BLACKOUT. It would be the perfect ending for any romantic comedy. The lights fade and we go home.. At least that is what would happen if we were watching a movie. Since this is television, we are already at home, and since the show has been renewed, we will actually get a continuation of the story.
Season two has Sam and Diane beginning their relationship, and in the opening episode “Power Play” the creators reassure us that the ongoing battle of their respective sexes will continue. Diane becomes resentful of Sam’s out of date barbaric ways in the bedroom, and Sam’s male ego is tarnished when he is denied sex. Tempers rise, and insults are flung, only this time, they can settle their differences in bed.
In many ways season two is more interesting when it comes to Sam and Diane. It brings out much of the toxicity which was burrowing underneath all the time. While their relationship remains playful, it culminates with a harsh truth that maybe, perhaps these two were not meant to be together. For anyone who wants to root for their favorite TV couple, this is a bitter pill to swallow. Yet it is what makes Sam and Diane such a complex pair and puts them above the usual will they or won’t they duo. Oftentimes, other shows don’t want to examine the psychological turmoil of being in a relationship. Ross and Rachel from “Friends” or Jim and Pam from “The Office” rarely ever reached the stakes of never getting back together. With Sam and Diane, this conceit was played constantly to great effect, mostly because you believed their break-up could remain permanent.
After episodes involving possible infidelity (“Snow Job”, “Fortune and Men’s Weight”), the finale of season two was boiling over with uncertainty. The two parter entitled “I’ll be Seeing You”, sees our couple in their biggest challenge yet. The episode finds Diane accepting an offer by an imminent artist (guest star Christopher Lloyd) to paint her portrait. After being insulted by him earlier, Sam forbids Diane to pose for the picture, yet she does, and predictably, it spirals into an epic showdown. Sam becomes infuriated with her decision, but Diane begs him to look at the painting before he judges. His pigheadedness leads to a battle of wills both physically and mentally. The fight ends with the two of them in an endless slapping contest and grabbing eachothers noses until one of them relents. This scene, though humorous as written and performed, does not leave its implied violence unchecked.
Diane: You hit me.
Sam: Well not hard.
Diane: What is that supposed to mean?
Sam: It means not as hard as I wanted to.
After this exchange, the banter has ceased, and you can feel the weight of the room sink knowing that Sam has gone too far. This was the danger which was always eluded to in this frail relationship. Despite setbacks, Sam and Diane always came back to each other, yet this was a moment of pause. One simply cannot come back from this. The episode ends with Diane walking out, and Sam, now alone, opening up the painting, and after looking at it, offers up a poignant “wow” as his only word. As a mirror to season one’s finale where their anger boiled with passion, this one offers a sobering melancholic reality.
The shift in season two brought a certain question dangling in the air, and one that could not be easily answered: Could Sam and Diane stay together? Though they eventually reconciled, season three and four would find more ways to keep them apart. There would still be memorable episodes such as season three’s “I call your name” where Diane, now entering her Ralph Bellamy phase with rebound boyfriend Dr. Frasier Crane (Kelsey Grammer) inadvertently calls out Sam’s name while in the throes of love making. Sam has a similar revelation in season four’s “Fear is my co-pilot” where fearing for his life on an airplane, confesses to Diane his deepest desire is to marry her. These episodes among others served as icing on the cake for a couple that had become well established, and of course it was hinting to a foregone conclusion, or so we thought.
The departure of Shelley Long proved to be a blessing in disguise for “Cheers” not just in reinvigorating the series, but also in giving Sam and Diane a fitting farewell. ( I say this reluctantly, for Shelley Long is a talented actress who has never been given the full credit she deserves, and despite “Cheers” carrying on without her, she could never be replaced). Had Diane stayed in the picture, conventionally there would be a wedding announced in season five, and perhaps followed by children in season six. There might be just enough material for a season seven, maybe with a threat of divorce, only for them to get back together just in time for the series finale. “Cheers” would not be the same if this happened, nor would our Sam and Diane. Of course there would be a wedding, but with a bittersweet twist.
Season five’s finale “I do and Adieu” is a perfect conclusion for Sam and Diane’s story as they announce their wedding. Yet after discovering one of her books will be published, Diane leaves Cheers to finish it. She promises to return in six months to marry Sam, but for the first time he is the smarter one. He knows she won’t be coming back. We are then treated to an alternate reality seen earlier in the episode of an elderly Sam and Diane together and married, dancing as the picture fades. A fitting end as if their whole relationship had been leading to this scene. Theirs had always been a dance of sorts, It was a partnership, and sometimes the perspectives would change to see who leads. There was no audience cheering a last minute reunion with Diane furiously running back to the bar, just the sound of Irving Berlin’s “What’ll I do” playing in the background, and then silence.
It is always trickier to get the cathartic happy ending on television. Often actors leave mid series, creatives change, the show gets cancelled, or the spark just isn’t there anymore. Movies have the luxury of giving you instant gratification where you can leave with a smile on your face. Katherine Hepburn never left Spencer Tracy, or Cary Grant. Myrna Loy never left William Powell, and Doris Day never left Rock Hudson. Sam and Diane were born from the same cloth, yet unlike their classic counterparts, they always had one foot in a world of sadness. “Cheers” would go on to a new era, which did not, nor could not rely so heavily on another dominant relationship. It still stands as one of the greatest sitcoms of all time for reasons beyond Sam and Diane. Yet for the moment these two characters came together, there was a spark not seen on television before or even since. They are distinguished for creating a new sitcom trope, yet no one has come close in recreating their dance or their sad song.