Archive for October, 2010

Episode 48: I Love You, Rosey Malone

October 25, 2010

Starsky becomes involved in a relationship with gangster Frank Malone’s daughter, Rosey, while undercover.

Rosey Malone: Tracy Brooks Swope, Ed Chambers: James Keach, Bill Goodson: Paul Jenkins, Frank Malone: John P Ryan, Ray Shelby: John Dullaghan, Jogger: Theresa A Fagundes, Secretary: Mary Mercier. Written By: Tim Maschler, Directed By: Rick Edelstein.

QUESTIONS AND NOTES:

This is a tightly focused and well-written episode that allows the personal to overtake the procedural, and perhaps not for the best. Here, Starsky develops strong feelings for the girl he is trying to extract information from, a trope we will witness several times throughout the run of the series. “Starsky & Hutch” works best when emotions serve – and drive – the search for justice. We see this very clearly in “Vendetta” and “Lady Blue”, when visceral responses, revulsion in one and grief in the other, are used like a fuel to launch the action. Less successful are those episodes in which emotion becomes sticky and muffling, like a quicksand. It’s a credit to Starsky that he has these gentle, protective feelings and Rosey herself is an attractive and vulnerable character in many ways, and Swope is a very interesting actor to watch. But I do have an issue with Starsky becoming mired in those romantic feelings, distracted by them, and interpreting his role in the prosecution of Frank Malone and his empire as an impediment to rectitude rather than the fulfillment of it. Despite the fact that the government and its agents are depicted as heartless and cruelly expeditious, they were ultimately correct. I would hope Starsky himself would eventually come to this same conclusion.

The title of this episode is a bold statement indeed. Starsky never says the word “love” and I’m not even sure he feels it at all, even at the end when he is fighting to keep her in his life; it seems to me, with a relatively cautious, private person such as Starsky, love is a gradual state of mind but once it’s there, it’s there forever. Another interpretation of the title could be this is a statement of father, not boyfriend. It could be that Rosey has a way of inspiring strong feelings wherever she goes.

The first scene has the detectives jogging, a relatively new fad of the times and one Hutch has taken up with enthusiasm. As usual, he manages to turn this into a pedantic moment, telling Starsky “the whole point of this is to expand the alveolus”, which may be one of the (albeit unintentionally) funniest things he ever says. Starsky complains of being tired. He seems convincing, but Hutch says genially, “You’re faking. You’re in great shape.” And so he is: Starsky straightens up and drops the act and admits he isn’t tired at all, but bored. Unusually enough, Hutch isn’t surprised or derisive but rather accepting of his partner’s insistence that the pursuit of pleasure is the only intrinsic good in life.

Rosey is wearing an “eagles” t-shirt. The band, or some sports team? Also, she is totally not wearing a proper bra for running.

Again, Starsky and Hutch are mistaken for each other by Ed Chambers, one of the unctuous feds.

Chambers and Goodson come across as aggressive, myopic, rule-following douchebags. I’ve made the point before about this series specializing in suit-and-tie-boorishness versus jeans-clad integrity, but this is perhaps the worst case of it (a close second could be the two Feds in “Groupie”). The bad attitude of Chambers and Goodson does nothing but antagonize the two detectives they have come to enlist, so why the suspicion and the patronizing attitude? And why attack Starsky’s professional integrity with such ferocity, in advance of the facts? And it’s not only official business, but it’s oddly personal too: when Hutch tells Chambers Starsky struck out with Rosey, Goodson can’t help but smirk, “figures”.

Look at how frighteningly silent Starsky becomes as each insult is heaped on him. Conversely, Hutch becomes increasingly active as this scene progresses. He answers questions put to Starsky while moving in to both physically block and distract, mediating through fast repartee and attempts at humor. He’s telling Starsky I can handle this, I can do the heavy lifting, even though this isn’t his fight, this isn’t his honor being questioned. It’s a lovely partnership moment and very subtly done.

I wonder why Starsky agrees to pursue Rosey at the request of the two lawyers. He doesn’t seem to have thought through how manipulative this kind of investigative tool is when he says vehemently, “she’s mine.” It’s not competitiveness (after the suggestion Hutch might be a better candidate because “she might like blonds”). It’s because the feds have misconstrued his wry comment about Frank Malone living “happily ever after”. He wants to prove his incorruptibility more than he wants to protect this pretty girl. And so he gives an emotionally-driven, ego-driven (and completely understandable, even laudable) decision he comes to regret.

Starsky tells Rosey, “Don’t typecast me. I like pizza and I like filet mignon. I like Stevie Wonder and I like Mozart.” If this is true then he’s been playing dumb with Hutch for years, pretending not to know anything about the symphony (in “Targets Without a Badge”) or caviar (“Bust Amboy”) or art films (“Stage 17”) or any other of the hundreds of highfalutin things Hutch likes to think he’s an expert in. Or maybe, just maybe, he’s just lying or exaggerating to Rosey. She does say, “are you putting me on?” and in response he just smiles and says nothing. That smile, to me anyway, has just a smidgen of desperation behind it, Starsky acknowledging to himself he has just stepped over the edge of seduction and there’s no turning back now. He has just combined the truth (his catholic tastes) and falsehood (his romantic interest in Rosey) to create a believable persona. In “The Plague” Hutch makes a remark about Starsky being a good liar only when undercover, and a really good liar – like Starsky – always has a little truth behind the lies.

It’s one thing to say you are familiar with Huichol Indian art but seems pretty risky to say you have been somewhere you haven’t, especially around an expert. The Sierra Madre Occidental range in western Mexico is very desolate and few people have been there. Rosey, pointedly, doesn’t question him about it, or challenge him about much of anything. One can speculate that at this point she’s blind and deaf to all but Starsky’s charm. She gives every impression of being the awkward, spindly, nerdy girl who never caught the eye of the handsome boys, and now a long-repressed high school fantasy is coming true, and she doesn’t want to blow it with a lot of questions.

On that note, it’s interesting that Starsky isn’t more prepared for this undercover operation. Not only is a federal indictment being sought but it’s the final push by Starsky and Hutch, and probably a fair number of other police officers and officials all the way to Washington DC, to crack the LA branch of Malone’s criminal operations. Neither Dobey nor the lawyers seem to have prepared Starsky with a believable cover story. Instead he’s left hanging, hoping to gain time through stalling, which is probably not the most professional way to go.

Rosey’s business plan for the Huichol people is certainly ahead of its time, predating the fair trade coffee and chocolate growers which is now the gold standard of business practices.

“How come you haven’t asked my name?” Rosey says when they’re at the gallery. Oh, good one. Starsky gets a shock but recovers smoothly enough. His seduction technique throughout is awe-inspiring: intense without being suffocating, confident without arrogance, amorous without the icky. This should be compulsive viewing for all men between the ages of 18 and 25.

“She might go for blonds.” It would be interesting to observe Hutch in this same situation. How good would he be gaining Rosey’s confidence, and how would his methods differ from Starsky? It would probably involve tripping and breaking the pottery, for a start.

The longing look Rosey gives Starsky during their dinner date – naked, raw, needy, fundamentally shy – makes his actions seem even more lamentable. What’s he thinking when she looks at him? Committed to the job, feeling a twinge of guilt, letting the stirring of romance put all those things on the back burner? On the way home she asks him what he does, and he says, “I’m a dentist.” This fabrication comes awfully easily considering it’s around the time she’s telling him about the grief she feels about her mother’s death.

When Rosey turns off the radio and says she hates the news because it’s “so depressing”, is she indicating she knows all about her father’s criminal activities, despite the fact Goodson and Chambers told Starsky she thinks her father is “clean”? (for the trivia-minded: the uncredited newscaster here is the same one in last season’s “Survival”)

Starsky certainly memorizes Rosey’s home number quickly: he dials it from memory from bed that night.

Why does Starsky ask Rosey what she’s doing for the next twelve years? Does that sound less oppressive than twenty, and more serious than five?

Rosey knows Starsky isn’t a dentist. When she challenges him, he says he’s a plastic surgeon. They both laugh, but you’d think being the daughter of a reputed mobster (and it’s obvious to me that she does know this on some level, even if she thinks he’s being unfairly prosecuted) shouldn’t she be on alert? Even girls with Episcopalian minister fathers would be disconcerted by these obvious lies.

In “Deckwatch”, later on in the series, Hutch gives Laura a silly list of jobs he would do if he stopped being a cop, which is his way of saying he has no intention of leaving the profession. Starsky gives Rosey a list of silly jobs too. Dentist, masseur, and, amusingly, research analyst for the Book of Records. Later Starsky tells her he has no more intention of quitting the force as she does of quitting being her father’s daughter. How can Starsky and Hutch’s dedication to their job be as all-consuming of that if both of them, in different episodes, were ready to throw away their careers at a moment’s notice (Hutch in “Targets Without a Badge”, Starsky in “Golden Angel”)? And are they as dedicated to being partners with each other, regardless of the job? If Hutch left to become a sushi chef, as he says in “Deckwatch”, would Starsky be right there beside him flaying a tuna?

Frank and Starsky immediately size each other up, and not the for the better. Starsky is too intense for Frank’s liking, and Frank is too genial for Starsky’s liking. It’s a case of simultaneous antipathy, laced with a something vaguely incestuously alpha male. Perhaps Frank can smell cop as accurately as Starsky can smell con. Also disconcerting is a grown woman calling her father “Daddy”. It adds an element of dependence and immaturity that Starsky, months later, probably reflected upon and thought, yeah that was the clue.

Starsky doesn’t immediately tell Hutch or anyone else that he’s been outed by Rosey; why? Surely this is germane to the case.

Hutch tries to talk to Starsky the way he did in the aftermath of Gillian’s murder, saying, “we’ve got work to do.” Now he says much the same thing: “Okay, you’re in pain. That’s gonna pass.” Good solid advice, but how does Starsky respond? Throws a tantrum, punching books off the shelf and yelling at his partner. When threatened or defensive, Hutch often goes witheringly cold and Starsky often volcanic; neither works. An odd turnaround in this is during a later episode “Starsky vs. Hutch”, in which Starsky is paralyzed by threat and Hutch hotly provocative, but then much in the Fourth Season is topsy-turvey.

The ghost of a wink Hutch gives Starsky at the apex of their argument over Rosey is among the best moments in the entire series. Subtle, amusing, loving, ironic, it manages to be both a character giving another character a moment of solidarity and affection, a “I know what you’re going through” gesture of camaraderie, and an actor giving another actor a “can you believe they’re paying us for this?” moment of pure joy. There’s really nothing else like it. Play it once, or a hundred times – it never loses its magic.

What does Starsky make of this wink? He seems calmed by it, somehow.

It takes a powerful individual to change years of paranoia, but this is what Starsky does with Rosey when he convinces her his love is real. And minutes later, to some degree, he does the same thing with Frank Malone.

In Starsky’s tangle with Goodson and Chambers, he twice attributes their worst attributes to their being “civilians.” Does he really feel this way, or is that an insult specially designed for big-picture lawyers?

”You sad excuse for a Romeo,” Hutch tells Starsky, “Now go cuddle with your lady, just tell me where you are.” This after Hutch has just stood up as Starsky’s only friend and defender in a world of evil. What does Starsky do? They’re standing, nose to nose. Instead of thanking him, Starsky says, “If you’re lucky.” And then leaves. And yet Hutch seems okay with Starsky’s blowing him off, perhaps recognizing an immature insult is Starsky-code for “I’m okay now”.

Hutch is truly scary when riled. And Starsky enjoys this display in the feds’ office.

Speculate on the mental health of a young woman who chooses her father over David Starsky.

Starsky says: “A thousand years ago, I used to believe I’d fall in love, get married, have a kid or two, and live happily ever after. And then I grew up.” What exactly does this mean? That a happy marriage and fatherhood are incompatible to life as a police officer, or is Starsky admitting he no longer wants these things? He certainly acts as if he still believes this is possible, as he somewhat naively assumes he and Rosey will continue their relationship after Frank has fled to parts unknown. Compare this to the final moments of “The Fix”, in which Hutch not only understands he can never have a future with Jeanie Walton but in fact gives her a little push to expedite her leaving. He does it not because he wants to but because he knows their union has been poisoned by circumstance. Starsky should feel the same way. He has not been punished or wounded by Frank Malone, he has been freed by him.

The sincere, touching final scene is diminished somewhat by the Muzak saxophone burbling in the background (and in the foreground).

Tag: the tag is unscripted, which gives it a wonderful spontaneous quality.

Clothing notes: Starsky wears a variety of excellent athletic clothing, including his tiny cut-offs. Hutch wears the identical outfit from Gillian: forest-green t-shirt, green leather jacket. Starsky wears the great brown leather jacket.

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Episode 47: Fatal Charm

October 10, 2010

A possessive woman becomes dangerous when Hutch tries to end their relationship.

Diana Harmon: Karen Valentine, Linda Baylor: Roz Kelly, Max Frost: Paul Lukather, Kathy Marshall: Janice Heiden, Salesman: Woody Skaggs, Benny: Michael Stipanich. Written By: Jeff Kanter, Directed By: Earl Bellamy.

QUESTIONS AND NOTES:

Okay, hold on to your hats, here is one my favorite episodes in the canon, one that never loses its powerful impact after repeated viewings, that seems as authentically scary as the day it was conceived. Maybe it’s the nearly oppressive focus of the story, the lack of extraneous details, or maybe it’s the subject matter, always relevant and squirmingly uncomfortable. Maybe it’s Karen Valentine’s unusual performance. Or the direction, neat and unfussy, with a underplayed nod to Hitchcock. Maybe it’s because this episode was shot under very trying circumstances, David Soul, suffering from a potentially fatal pneumonia, having been out of the hospital for only three weeks. (According to the story Glaser was very protective, bringing him coffee, finding him places to sit in between shots, and urging him to let Epper do more of the stunts. Soul refused, particularly after Epper was knocked down by a car during filming and had to go to the clinic). All the elements are here: tight script, great performances, genuine shocks, and total focus.

Roz Kelly, this time as fellow detective Linda Baylor, just can’t let the tough-chick act go, can she? Or was she pressured to be such a one-note actor? One wonders. (As an aside, her character was to have become Hutch’s new partner if Glaser had not returned for the third season. As consolation, she was to have another big role later, but was unavailable when the opportunity came.)

The guys are comfortable around Linda but have zero romantic inclinations toward her, not even the notoriously flirtatious Starsky. This is in stark contrast to every other encounter with a woman, even the married ones. What, if you’re businesslike, practical, and tough, will the boys not like you? Or do they know something about her we don’t? Now there’s a storyline I’d like to see.

Starsky gives Hutch a lesson on manliness in the emergency room: be brave, no screaming, no crying, no carrying on, be a soldier. This is doubly funny when you consider it’s Hutch he’s talking to, the very epitome of stoicism. Of course this is typical of the joking and teasing that passes for much male communication, and here it’s particularly charming. But when Starsky jokingly downplays Hutch’s pain, telling him it’s just a scratch, can this be seen as a foreshadowing of the later situation with Diana, during which he is similarly myopic and/or unsympathetic?

Starsky listens for Hutch’s heart with the stethoscope. He says he “can’t hear a thing.” There are more than a few times during the series where he says Hutch is a man without a heart, but Starsky is very good at levelling a charge with an undercurrent of affection.

Eavesdropping: When Hutch encounters Starsky with his hand stuck up the vending machine he tries to sound disparaging by saying, “You ought to be ashamed of yourself” but then, nearly imperceptibly, gives his friend another dime. Then when he says the injection he received doesn’t hurt “where it shows” Starsky obliges by kicking him playfully in the behind. They then walk off together, making plans for the evening. I wonder if this scene, with its intimacy and affection, is what sends Diana over the edge. Because surely she’d see a lot of patients throughout her day, even handsome ones. Maybe even cops. But watching how the two guys interact with each other – that mix of exasperated familiarity and loving indulgence – makes her think: gotta get me some of that.

Diana tells Hutch she has “some steaks in the refrigerator.” Now, it’s very unusual for a single girl to have two steaks ready to go at any given time. She’s dressed in a nightgown so isn’t planning to pick some up, and they are not in the freezer where anyone else would store them. Without a microwave, thawing would be difficult. Seems like she has prepared in advance for luring a guy into her apartment.

I love the detail of the moving boxes in Diana’s place. It adds to the sense of chaos, of an unsettled, restless life perpetually in transition. It’s easy to imagine Diana was fired from her job in Dallas or Chicago or somewhere, for another stalking or violent incident never reported by an embarrassed male victim.

Hutch is non-committal with Diana throughout their brief relationship. To her suggestion they stay at her place for the night, Hutch’s reply is “Whatever.” To Diana’s admission she followed him to bar is, “I guess I should be flattered.” To Starsky and Kathy’s suggestion of a foursome, Hutch’s reply is a pallid “Sure. Sounds, uh, sounds great.” He looks tentative and unhappy even when they sit together at the fire (an apartment with a real fireplace – how unusual and expensive is that in Los Angeles?) What is it that makes him so tepid? Her forthrightness, her weird energy? Does he sense, deep down, that she’s a shitload of trouble? Whatever it is, he doesn’t like her but sleeps with her anyway. A Very Bad Move, and not only because it sets in motion the terrible events to come, but it hints at the fact that Hutch has ignored his instincts, which I’m guessing would be howling bad news! bad news! at the top of their synaptic lungs.

Starsky has brought lovely stewardess Kathy Harmon over to Hutch’s place. I love how Kathy comes forward and kisses Hutch right on the mouth, and the two of them hug for a long moment. Diana may be psycho but she’s right to think there’s more to this than meets the eye. Starsky says, “she looks pretty good, doesn’t she,” sounding relaxed and complacent while taking a drink from Hutch’s beer, and all this seems very all for one, one for all. The sharing and admiring and kissing and chug-a-lugging is free and easy, yes, but this is not to denigrate Kathy’s wonderful decency, her wholesomeness, and the feeling you get that she would make a great friend. After all, she loves to dance, offers to help Diana and doesn’t have a problem diving right in and using her hands to clean up cold pasta. She doesn’t become upset when Hutch steps on her. She is quick to include Diana in a foursome. She doesn’t go too crazy when drink is spilled on her. She has a fun-loving spirit without inspiring jealousy between Starsky and Hutch. And best of all, both Starsky and Hutch like her. A lot.

The four go to the disco, and we see one of the few times Hutch seems to both dance well and enjoy it, too. Although he does step on Kathy’s foot, prematurely ending a very fun time.

Since when does the DJ come out and dance on the floor? And yet this one does, with enthusiasm.

Hutch calls himself “Hutchinson” when he scolds himself. “Hutchinson, you sure picked a winner,” he tells himself about Diana. When he is deep in Marsha’s lair in “Tap Dancing”, he asks himself under his breath, “What did you get yourself into, Hutchinson?” What do you think Starsky refers to himself under similar circumstances? Or does Starsky never second-guess himself?

“It’s that old fatal charm of yours,” Starsky says. “Gets them every time.”
“It’s not funny, Starsk,” Hutch says, but is Starsky being funny, or is telling the truth? What does “fatal charm” mean anyway, and why does Hutch have it? Is it being so beautiful you kill any chance for a normal relationship?

Starsky’s error in reading Hutch and Diana’s body language shows both a lack of sensitivity and a pervasive sexism. While I can hardly blame him for taking things lightly – both guys have had dealings with some pretty flaky girls over the years, and some overly-controlling ones as well, certain a trip down the aisle was imminent – but in this instance he should have seen Diana was a little more intense than the average date. He ignores Hutch’s obvious discomfort when suggesting a foursome. The weird vibes with Diana at the disco, her curt “I don’t dance” and the murderous staring at Hutch dancing with another woman, doesn’t set off alarm bells. You can see him thinking, “whoa, weird chick” and then not thinking about it any more. He gives Hutch bad advice about “reading her the riot act” and splitting. Even the horrifying scene at Metro doesn’t impact him as severely as it should, and, even more markedly, the next day’s mess at Hutch’s apartment doesn’t alert him unduly. Is he so dismissive because he doesn’t tend to take women seriously? Are there different rules for women? With Rosey, for example, he’s capable of lying, withholding, and strong-arming her to get what he wants. Most others are momentarily arresting, beddable, then forgettable. He’s obviously capable of deep feeling (he really puts himself out for women like Rosey, Emily Harrison, and Sharman, and, one surmises, Helen Davisson) but it’s usually as it relates to his sense of security, of rightness, and balance. He’s chivalrous and protective, as long as the woman conforms to his expectations. It just bugs him when the landscape isn’t ordered the way he likes it, and women are elements in that landscape. I am being hard on him because he is a product of his time and his environment, and these few lapses are those of any man. Perfection is boring anyway, especially in a dramatic characters, and it means that Starsky – and Hutch – are complicated and flawed beings. Only Terry was his equal and his friend.

For his part, Hutch is much more willing to throw himself into the chaos of passion and damn the consequences. In a sense, he’s looking to be thrown off-balance by romantic love. He’s seeking disorder and turmoil as a distraction from what I believe is a subtle, often hidden, but persistent depression. He needs to be distracted. Starsky, on the other hand, is masterful and conservative, moving pieces in his landscape around like one of those toy train builders with their obsessive tiny trees and trestles made of toothpicks. It’s no surprise he’s actually working on a model of a ship when Hutch comes over to talk about his problems. All the elements in his man-made landscape tend to behave, staying where he puts them. But Hutch is not a world-builder or a master-controller, despite the impression he gives. He’s a romantic and a nihilist, and Diana is just the sort of rogue element he’s both attracted to and helpless against.

Although there is a real and vivid villain here, am I alone in thinking there is a layer of culpability on the part of Hutch (symbolic of men in general, if you want to get political about it) that I feel has emerged only in time? I’m pretty sure it wasn’t intentional when this episode was shot, and it probably wasn’t part of any of our initial viewing of it, but whose life history of secret disappointment and betrayal hasn’t engendered a smidgen of compassion or understanding for this woman? It feels as if, watching now, we are seeing someone who has been battered by life, far too eager to please and be pleased – so typical of many women in this pre-feminist world – and who is genuinely bewildered by the torments and obstacles life and love has thrown at her. I always have the feeling she is on par with Monique Travers, who also had a small, frightened voice inside beseeching her to stop acting crazy.

Diana buys Hutch a watch, proof of why she knows nothing about him.

In the next scene she is wearing the best dress ever. If it wasn’t for the psychotically murderous impulses, she’d be perfect. Very pretty, has steaks in the refrigerator at the oddest times, buys great gifts, doesn’t hesitate to have sex with men she barely knows, wears fantastic outfits.

Diana and Abby in “Vendetta” both invite Hutch to dinner, put a gift on his plate and wait for a late Hutch. Both relationships end badly.

When Diana phones Hutch and begs to see him, she’s winding something around her fingers as she talks on the phone. It could be either be something as sinister as a garrote or as innocuous as dental floss, but the use of the prop here is genius.

The scene by the doors at the police station has to be one of the all-time riveting scenes in the series. Valentine, for her part, is completely spellbinding. She doesn’t ratchet it up too much, never goes into what you’d call camp, and as a result she’s fucking scary. The guys seem completely stunned by her outburst, Starsky particularly – watch his blank look of horror. Part of it comes from the fact this woman is letting it all hang out in public, in front of fellow officers. Embarrassment for men is worse than physical violence – somehow, this scene can be seen as more damaging than the knife-welding attack later. She’s completely commanding despite being half their size. “You!” she screams at Starsky. “You’re just like him… Let me tell you something about your friend. He’s not even a good lover!”
Hutch says quietly, “Diana …” It’s a reprimand, but a quiet one, almost pitying.
She leaves, throwing the watch on the floor. Long, embarrassed silence. Dobey orders everyone away.

Diana says a puzzling thing in her fury: she screams that she had to have someone cover for her at the hospital because she though Hutch was sick or wounded. She says this while obviously wearing a fancy dress. The guys don’t seem to catch on that there was no way she’d be on duty this evening dressed like that. Why does she compound her rage with a rather useless guilt-trip aimed at Hutch? Does she even believe it herself, or is this proof of her mental disintegration?

How did Dobey know about Diana’s ploy of pretending to be “the kid sister from Boston”? It doesn’t seem like something Hutch would tell Dobey, out of embarrassment. And Starsky has already pooh-poohed its importance. Yet it is the key that puts it together for Starsky. If Dobey hadn’t mentioned it, it would have been too late for Hutch.

What happened to Hutch’s hand injury by the time he gets into the shower? It doesn’t seem to bother him, he scrubs vigorously, and yet only a few days, at most a week, has passed.

In “Lady Blue”, Dobey almost takes Starsky off Helen’s case because of Starsky’s personal interest in it. Yet in Linda Baylor’s attack Dobey tells Starsky and Hutch, “Knowing how you feel about Linda, I’m going to assign you to her case.” Why the difference in how he sees emotional involvement of his officers in these two cases?

Hutch doesn’t know it’s Diana who stabbed him, yet that’s the name he calls out in his dark apartment. It’s been preying on his mind, and here it is, his worst nightmare come to life. And yet he’s practical and methodical in his response, a true cop, knowing that nothing kills you faster than panic.

A chatty, articulate person normally, and someone who has proven before how stinging and painful hurtled words can be, Diana is silent during this scene.

If Diana had slipped Hutch’s gun from the holster hanging over the door, this series would have had a very different ending.