It is a rather unsophisticated reading of the text to see Fraser's evolution as a concern (or imagine for a moment that Paul Gross is not firmly in control of his character). No need to evoke existentialism. a minimal level of insight will suffice to persuade the viewer that experiences ( and cities!) change people. Since coming to Chicago, Fraser has lost the people, possessions and home he loved. has become involved in a problematic semi-relationship with his superior officer, from whom he continues to receive wildly mixed signals. has suffered physically and emotionally. has betrayed and been betrayed. Anyone who did not undergo some changes through that would, indeed, be a cardboard cutout.
People change people, too. Generally, we like the friends we do because of who we are when we're with them. Fraser is a different person and has a very different relationship with Kowalski rather than Vecchio, and that is not only to be expected, it is to be commended. The beginning of Fraser's relationship with Vecchio coincided with his introduction to the city. It would probably be fair to say that both bemused him, and he clung to his traditions and beliefs even tighter as his world collapsed and re-formed around him. Consequently, it took time for open competition/combativeness to appear in their exchanges. For much of the first season, Fraser doggedly maintained his course whilst Ray performed cartwheels of agitation alongside.
In the second season, Fraser displayed an increasing willingness to meet Ray on his own ground. He was finding his feet and his tongue. The subtle retaliations of the first season became open revolt. As a consequence, the balance of their friendship shifted. Fraser became a little more caustic, and Ray calmed down, just a touch.
The third season, and Fraser's relationship with Kowalski, begins in an entirely different fashion. Ray Vecchio is missing, and Fraser is openly, though civilly, resistant to Kowalski's deception. A first season Fraser may have nodded a dazed "Understood" when confronted with the Vecchio/Kowalski switch. the Fraser who has spent three years amongst the barbaric Americans reacts by arguing the point and building a case against him. So Fraser and Kowalski's relationship begins with the combativeness already established and overt, and this gives Fraser the freedom to be more truly himself - with his flaws and humour more readily apparent. (Many people seem to ignore the fact that Fraser has always had a short-tempered, sarcastic streak. It is only shown in his dealings with the two non-people in his life - his father, and Dief. He can be quite ascerbic in his comments to both.)
He has, in a phrase, loosened up. This is undoubtedly a good thing for his blood pressure, but it comes at a cost. In 'Dead Guy Running', for example, his rigid moral code becomes a little more elastic, and he is quick to recognise and fear the dangers of such a compromise. Out on the Arctic ice, absolutes of good and bad behaviour are clearly understood. In the city, where behaviours are not bound by the necessities of survival but local ordnances, good and bad are somewhat more blurred. Already, in the second season, a Fraser who once baulked at telling the simplest of lies undercover (Pizzas and Promises) had become a man who acquiesces to illegal entry (The Mask). (In fact, this minor corruption in DGR is also linked with survival, but that is a possibility Fraser is unwilling to address.)
In 'Seeing is Believing', Fraser's wicked humour is allowed out to play. There is no doubt that the first season Fraser would not have indulged it, but Fraser's perspective of life has altered in many ways. And for the better, one might add!
This episode offers some wonderful byplay amongst Thatcher, Kowalski, Frannie and Welsh. One of the many nice aspects of ds under Gross's generalship is the expanded roles of the supporting cast, another indication of the man's generosity. Here, they have been given a witty script and inventive direction from Steve Di Marco. The editing, too, is particularly clever, intercutting between various conversations and fantasy sequences. The exchanges are a delight - Fraser to Welsh: "Can you elucidate, sir?" "No, no, not since the late sixties." Kowalski to mobster. "On the ground, or I will beat you to death with this empty gun." Thatcher's feminist insistence that a woman can be an equal opportunity miscreant. Welsh's determination to see mafia everwhere. The public defender's surprise that her defendant is innocent (and weary acceptance when it seems he's not).and each character's projection of their own personalities onto their reading of reality. The first two-thirds of this episode are a post-modern primer. it seems there is no central truth - until Fraser cuts through the confusion (literally) and arrives at reality.
Seeing is Believing is yet another tautly performed and scripted third season episode, well worth a look!
To my mind, H's comments are spot-on regarding the allegedly "changed" Fraser. Character development is vital to any drama; the events and people in Fraser's life have shaped him. He is no Teflon-man whom life cannot touch. In essence, he is the same man who arrived in Chicago on the trail of his father's killers, but he has learnt to trust his feelings and is more confident in his relationships. But this is no sudden series 3 phenomenon. In Vault, for example, Ray encourages Fraser to be more assertive, which he then attempts by making an eloquent speech in defence of his preferred brown uniform rather than the more modern blue. He almost capitulates half-way through and Thatcher still dismisses him - but we haven't seen the blue uniform since. So a minor triumph and Fraser learnt that standing up for himself does not necessarily constitute insubordination.
And he is still totally flummoxed by Francesca and Thatcher, demonstrated in SIB by his rigid reaction to them both and by his evident embarrassment when Frannie gives him a "thank you for saving Ray" kiss on the cheek in DGR.
Nor has Fraser's supposedly rigid moral code suddenly been abandoned in DGR. He's always been something of a pragmatist. In the Pilot, a dead caribou is dumped in the office of the manager of the dam. I don't suppose Fraser asked permission to do this, so it is fair to assume that he gained entry by some illegal means (which, carrying a dead caribou, must have been some feat!). And in Manhunt, he abandons his post without a second thought and without seeking permission when Buck turns up.
It is true that Fraser has on occasion been sharp-tempered with his Dad and Dief, but there has also been an underlying sarcasm in his dealings with some of the non-dead and non-wolf characters, particularly Ray. In Letting Go, Ray asks if there's anything Fraser needs; the reply is, "No, you've done enough already." A line heavy with ambiguity and sarcasm. Again, in The Edge, he tells Ray, "I haven't miscalculated since the last time you shot me. I'm only glad you had the presence of mind to shoot me again." PG delivers this line in an even tone, but the sub-text can only be sarcastic.
Series 3 makes much better use of the supporting cast and they have the opportunity to take centre stage in this story, revealing more of themselves in the process. But the star of the episode is Steve di Marco, who has directed with stunning inventiveness. The first scene after the opening credits is all one shot as Welsh, Thatcher, Kowalski and Fraser enter the squadroom and then go into the canteen, where Welsh, Thatcher and Kowalski go to the vending machines at the back of the room. Fraser stops at the fridge in the foreground. The visual focus at this point is on Fraser, while the aural focus is on the other three, brilliantly echoing the overall content of the drama as Fraser listens to the differing witness statements and then demonstrates the truth.
Similarly impressive are the "fantasy" sequences as the crime is reconstructed from the different points of view. As they do so, Thatcher, Welsh and Kowalski inject more than a little of themselves into their accounts. Thatcher's version of the murder is superb; all recounted though the hands of the protagonists, her hands firmly on her hips, authoritative as usual, until she imagines herself as the killer, protecting Fraser, her bloody hand on his cheek. But before long, she has reverted to being very much the superior officer. Conflicting signals indeed.
While I have a problem with the way the police officers apparently abandon objectivity in their accounts of the murder - I'd expect them to be more dispassionate - this is a minor gripe in what I consider to be one of DS's most inventive episodes - so far!