In 2013, sensing the popularity of reboots and sequels to popular franchises, Kelsey Grammer saw an opportunity to revive his beloved TV character, Dr. Frasier Crane. With the blessing of surviving Frasier creators Peter Casey and David Lee, Grammer arranged a pitch meeting with NBCUniversal. But the execs were stunned two weeks later, when the former Cheers regular showed up with not just a pitch, but a completed draft of a feature-length screenplay.

Emboldened by his recent Golden Globe victory for starring in the gritty Starz series Boss, Grammer had decided to take a shot at writing the script himself. After all, who knew the character better than he did? And in an apparent burst of inspiration, he completed the entire thing in just over a week and a half of near-nonstop writing. His 196-page screenplay presented a dark twist on the Cheers/Frasier universe, picking up ten years years later to show us a broken Dr. Crane, driven to alcoholism and other self-destructive behavior after the tragic loss of his son Frederick.

The execs were all appalled by Grammer’s script. They believed that this reimagining of the iconic character was in poor taste, and at some points downright offensive. When reached for comment, Casey said that he hadn’t read the script himself, but that he was “shocked and disappointed” by what he had heard. Lee and Grammer both prefer not to discuss it. All existing copies of the ill-fated draft were thought to be destroyed, but just this morning, the first four pages of the screenplay were leaked to Tall Peters by an anonymous source.

Here, exclusively on TallPeters.com, is the only known surviving excerpt from Frasier Crane:

FRASIER CRANE

By

Kelsey Grammer

Based on characters created by

Glen & Les Charles,

David Angell,

Peter Casey,

and David Lee

FADE IN

EXT. BOSTON – NIGHT

The filthy, sleazy part of town, where the lost souls roam.

The sidewalks are lined with bums, huddling for warmth among

the rats and the muck. Worn-out, middle-aged prostitutes

compete for the attention of every man foolhardy enough to

stroll through this forsaken neighborhood with a sweaty wad

of cash in hand. In the midst of all the fog and

desperation, we see the visage of an old, forgotten tavern.

Its once-familiar sign, now obscured by crude graffiti, is

just barely hanging on. Looking closely, we can still make

out the name: CHEERS.

CUT TO:

INT. CHEERS

It’s a pitiful sight, a dusty shadow of its former self. The

chairs and tables are scattered around haphazardly, and it

looks like no one’s attempted to clean the place in months.

It’s populated by three or four broken men, all sitting in

their separate corners, making no eye contact, and speaking

as little as possible. Except for one, DR. FRASIER CRANE,

drunk and unruly, sloppily dressed in a tattered old

three-piece suit. He’s the only one sitting at the bar.

FRASIER

(singing off-key)

Sometimes you wanna go! Where

everyboooody knows your naaaaaaame!

The BARTENDER, a young, slender, tattooed man, is clearly

irritated by Frasier’s antics, but he keeps his mouth shut.

FRASIER

Yeah! And they’re always glad you

caaaaaaame! Hey!

The other customers all try to ignore him, keeping their

faces firmly planted in their beverages.

FRASIER

Sam! Another scotch, my man! We’re

celebrating tonight, Sam! Oh yeah!

The bartender grabs the cheap whiskey from the rail and

pours a shot in Frasier’s glass.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: 2.

BARTENDER

My name’s not Sam. Five dollars

please.

FRASIER

Put it on my tab!

BARTENDER

You don’t have a tab.

FRASIER

Ha! Sam, you old rascal! Here you

are, my good man.

Frasier reaches into his breast pocket and produces a couple

of crumpled up bills, which he tosses onto the bar with a

flourish. The bartender sheepishly accepts the money and

walks away. Frasier raises his glass toward no one.

FRASIER

A toast! To our dear, dear old

friend Coach! May he… rest in

peace…

He pauses for moment, suddenly becoming somber, as if a

painful memory has just been triggered. But he brushes it

off and hastily downs his shot, dribbling whiskey all over

his scraggly, gray beard.

FRASIER

(muttering to himself)

That’s a… fine scotch.

Single-malt… aged… 12 years.

Coach would… be proud.

The front door opens, and in walks a FAT MAN. Frasier

reflexively swings around on his bar stool to face him.

FRASIER

NORM!

FAT MAN

Oh, um. Excuse me.

Confused and fearing confrontation, the fat man turns and

leaves the building. Frasier swings back around to the bar

and tries to take another drink from his empty glass. The

bartender walks back over to him.

BARTENDER

Alright, man, ya gotta quit doin’

that. You’re scarin’ away the

customers.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: 3.

FRASIER

Hold your tongue, sir! I’ll have

you know, I’ve been a patron of

this establishment for over thirty

years!

BARTENDER

Yeah, whatever, pal. If you pull

that shit again, you’re outta here,

got it?

Frasier gets up out of his seat, enraged.

FRASIER

Why, this is outrageous! Where is

Sam? I demand to speak with him!

BARTENDER

Ain’t no Sam here, ya old wingnut!

FRASIER

You insult me! This is no way to

address a man of my stature. I’m a

doctor, I’ll have you know.

BARTENDER

Ya don’t look like no doctor to me,

ya look like a fuckin’ bum

FRASIER

You little punk!

Frasier hurls the glass at the bartender. It misses and

shatters on the floor.

BARTENDER

Okay, old man, you gotta get the

fuck outta here.

FRASIER

Fuck you, you ungrateful swine!

Frasier starts knocking glasses off the table and kicking

barstools over, causing as much destruction as he can.

BARTENDER

Get the fuck outta here before I

call the cops!

Frasier grabs his coat and walks backwards toward the door,

clumsily shoving chairs and tables as he goes.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: 4.

FRASIER

You odious fool! Wait until Sam

hears about this!

BARTENDER

I said get the fuck outta here!

FRASIER

Fuck you!

He leaves.

CUT TO:

EXT. BOSTON – NIGHT

Frasier stumbles out into the smoky street, wild-eyed and

angry. He slips his patchy overcoat on, and pats on all the

pockets until he locates his trusty flask.

FRASIER

(grumbling)

Goddamn fucking Woody… punk kid.

Thinks he can fuckin’…

He unscrews the lid of the flask and takes a nice, long swig

as he walks down the grimy sidewalk. Here and there, he

almost trips over a sleeping vagrant.

FRASIER (CONT’D)

… kick me out… well I’ll…

kick him!

He pantomimes a kick, nearly falling over in the process,

but regains his balance and continues in no particular

direction. He’s approached by a PROSTITUTE, clutching a

cigarette, barely dressed. She speaks in a raspy voice.

PROSTITUTE

Hey there, sugar, havin’ a rough

night?

FRASIER

You could say that.

PROSTITUTE

Maybe there’s something I can do to

make it a little better.

FRASIER

I’m listening.

Well, that sure was an intriguing look into a bold new vision of Frasier that could have been. What do you think? Would you have liked to see this Frasier movie get made? Tell us in the comments below!