Saturday Night at the Movies
By
Author’s comments: I have always considered “Fiddler On The Roof” to be one of my avourite films, and having a certain curly haired actor starring in the movie so many years ago was always icing on the cake. For a long time now, I’ve wanted to incorporate the movie into a Starsky and Hutch fictional story, but how? Hopefully, with this story, I’ve succeeded and have done justice to the movie. It helps to know the story behind the film, but I tried to cover each pertinent scene for those “Fiddler” virgins. Thanks to PMG for sharing his amazing acting abilities even before S&H, and I hope he’s proud of his contribution in the film. Enjoy and please send feedback!
~~~~~
Hutch looked up towards the countertop from checking the resources in the fridge he'd been peering into... yep, plenty of beer and chips - the staples of life. Sure, Hutch lived on his health food, but he'd never turn down an offer of a beer with a side of greasy chips...
"C'mon in, Starsk!" he shouted over his shoulder, answering the rap on his door. He stood up, knees creaking and made his way into the living room.
His partner and best friend, Starsky, had just closed the front door with his Adidas-clad foot, about the only body part that was free at the moment - his arms were full of all sorts of bags, filled with food, drink, who knows what else?
"Are you in there, Starsk?" Hutch asked, frowning, crossing his arms. All he could see was a mop of curly dark brown hair. No face. No neck. No shoulders, nor chest. Just hair and bags.
"Gimme' a hand, wouldja'?" he heard a voice ask from behind the bags, to which Hutch answered with applause.
"I don't know where to begin!" Hutch laughed as he clapped.
"Funny. VERY funny. C'mon, Hutch, I'm gonna' drop somethin'!" Starsky whined.
"Okay, okay, take it easy." Hutch sighed, grabbing one of the sacks just in time, just as Starsky was about to drop it.
"Hey, I gotta' itch, scratch my nose, Hutch..." Starsky asked.
"No way, scratch your OWN nose!" Hutch retorted, shifting the bag he held.
"C'mon, Blintz, please?" Starsky whined again. "My hands are full! Please?
Buddy?" he turned his special patented look onto his partner - knowing he couldn't say no to his best friend, Hutch simply rolled his eyes.
"Allright, jeez..." Hutch said disgustedly, as he reached to extend a digit to scratch the bridge of his friends' nose.
"... lower, lower..." Starsky directed, staring cross-eyed at his partners' finger. "No, higher, over more. Yeah, there, that's got it!" Starsky closed his eyes and sighed happily, contented. "Thanks, Hutch." he smiled broadly.
"Don't mention it. Please. To AN-Y-ONE." Hutch frowned, enunciating the last word.
"I SAID thanks..." Starsky said, sounding hurt as he balanced his bags precariously.
"Don't ever say I didn't do anything for you." Hutch warned, pointing the "Hutchinson finger" at him.
Noting the hurt look in his friends' eyes at his attitude, Hutchs' voice softened as a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth.
"What're friends for, anyway..." he shrugged with a sigh. Starsky grinned back.
"What the hell you GOT in here, anyway?" Hutch asked, changing the subject, noting how heavy the sack was. "It weighs a ton!"
"Beer. Beer. And more beer." Starsky grinned from around the remaining two sacks.
"This is ALL beer?!" Hutch asked, wide-eyed, grabbing yet another heavy bag from his friends' arms. "What, you buy out the store?!"
"Hutch, you can never have too much beer." Starsky stated, shaking his head as he followed Hutch into the kitchen to set the remaining bag on the counter.
"I don't believe this..." Hutch chuckled, pulling six pack after six pack from the bags. "This'll last us..." he stopped as he looked up with a sideways glance at his partner.
"Allright, maybe the weekend if we pace ourselves. Moderation IS the key." he finished, laughing. "My head hurts already..." he groaned.
Starsky smiled, patting Hutch on the back. "That's my boy!" he said proudly, breaking open a bag of chips and helping himself to them. "So, has the game started yet?" he asked, anxiously, rubbing his greasy hands together briskly.
It was then that Hutch noticed Starskys' attire, now free from the grocery bags that hid him. Along with his ever present too tight jeans and worn Adidas shoes, Starsky had on his all time favorite football jersey, with the big "26" on the front and a peeling "Starsky" on the back. He'd had that shirt ever since their academy days, and it looked like it. Anyone else would have tossed the stained, torn jersey out years ago, maybe making a dustrag out of it, but not his sentimental pal. He'd never give up on his most comfortable jersey, he'd always kept things dearest to him as close as possible to his heart, and Hutch smiled, knowing that one of those "things" Starsky treasured was he himself. He liked that feeling of being so special to his best friend. He just felt so bad that he'd deceived him...
"Um, Starsk?" Hutch stammered, playing with a can of beer in his hands.
"Yeah?" Starsky turned to face Hutch, his eyebrows raised in question.
"... have a beer!" Hutch said brightly, nervously handing his friend the can.
"Thanks, Hutch..." Starsky frowned. "You 'kay? You seem a little... distant."
Hutch put on his best innocent look and held out both hands as if to say "me?"
Starsky snapped his fingers. "You've ALREADY gotten into the beer!" he exclaimed, leaning over close to sniff Hutchs' breath. He frowned as Hutch leaned back.
"Nope. You don't reek. Yet."
"Ah, let's go into the living room, buddy." Hutch smiled again, trying to change the subject. "I'll bring in some snacks, make yourself comfortable."
"I always do." Starsky grinned.
Leaning over the tv set, he called out to Hutch in the kitchen. "Hey, Blondie, want me to change the channel to the game?" he asked, sipping on the beer. We got some stupid movie on..."
"Leave it!" Hutch shouted, bounding into the living room with chips and a six pack in his hands.
Starsky squinted his eyes and peered at Hutch. "What's wrong with you, Blintz?" he asked curiously. You invited me over to watch the game and now you want to watch some MOVIE?"
Poor Starsk, Hutch thought. He looked totally confused. Hutch sighed deeply, setting the snacks on the coffee table next to the angel statue and candle, playing nervously with the plant leaves that also sat there. He avoided Starskys' stare as long as he could.
Clearing his throat, he scratched his head and gestured towards the tv set, taking the beer out of Starskys' hand and setting it along with the other snacks on the table, just in case.
"Ah, okay. R-remember that movie I t-told you about a c-couple weeks ago?" he began, stuttering as he did when he was nervous.
"That 'Fiddler' thing?" Starsky asked, frowning.
"Yeah, yeah, 'Fiddler On The Roof'" Hutch said brightly. "R-remember I t-told you about..."
"You TRICKED me!!!" Starsky suddenly shouted, angrily jabbing his finger into Hutchs' chest as he backed him up until Hutch fell down onto the sofa with a thud. Starsky glared down at him through dark blue eyes.
"You... you LIED to me, Hutch..." he sounded so hurt. Hutch felt terrible...
"No, no buddy, I..."
"Don't 'buddy' me!" Starsky leaned over, his hands set on the back of the sofa on either side of Hutchs' shoulders, his face mere inches from his partners'.
"Starsk, I'm sorry, really. I didn't lie to you, you know I DON'T lie to you. I... I misled you." Hutch looked up, hopeful.
"Oh, that makes it SO much better..." Starsky frowned, sarcasm dripping in his voice, even closer now, close enough tht their noses almost touched.
Hutchs' voice grew quiet. "I'm sorry, Starsk. Really I am. If you want to leave, I'll understand..." he stared down at his folded hands.
There is was. The guilt card. And Hutch played it SO well...
Starsky pushed himself away and stood in front of Hutch, frowning angrily, hands on his hops. He sighed heavily, staring at Hutchs' bowed head and shook his own head, his jaw set tight.
How could he be mad at his best friend?
He couldn't damn it. As much as he wanted to, he just couldn't.
"Well, don't just sit there. Hand me a beer." Starsky growled, breaking the eerie silence in the room.
Hutch looked up sharply, a hopeful look on his face. "Starsk?" he whispered.
"Hand me a beer and shove over." Starsky ordered, holding out his hand. "If I gotta' sit through this... this 'musical'" he nearly spit the word out as though it were a nasty taste in his mouth. "... I'm gonna' need to get... numb." - emphasis on the word "numb"...
A huge grin broke out on Hutchs' face as he quickly handed a can over to his friend who plopped down on the sofa next to Hutch, RIGHT next to Hutch.
"... and comfortable." Starsky added, stretching out his legs onto the coffee table, trying to avoid Hutchs' precious plant as he crossed them at his ankles. He glanced sideways at his friend.
"And you try anything funny, buddy, I swear I'll slug you." he warned, pointing his finger sideways at his friend. But Hutch knew it was a hollow threat.
Hutch playfully punched Starskys' shoulder. "Thanks for giving this a try, Starsk, you won't regret it."
Starsky took a long swig of the beer and eyed Hutch angrily. "I ALREADY regret it. So what's this turkey about, anyway?" he asked with a sigh. But he'd tuned Hutch out as soon as he began to drone on about the movies' plot, lying his head back on the sofa closing his eyes and drinking as much and as fast as he could. If he were lucky, if there WAS a God, he'd either fall asleep dead drunk during the movie, or the power would go out. He'd been looking forward to the football game all week, and here Hutch tricked him into coming over for a movie he'd been rambling on about for days. Something about a character in the movie that resembled Starsky that he'd wanted his partner to see. A character named...
"... Perchik." Hutch finished with a smile, his timing perfect. "You'll love it, Starsk, I promise."
Shyly, he added, "It's one of my favorite movies." Starsky looked up wide-eyed. "THIS is one of your favorite movies?!" he asked, pointing at the set. Big bad cop Hutch liking a musical...
Hutch nodded, a bit embarrassed.
"Then, THIS I gotta' see!" Starsky settled himself in with a handful of chips.
"Ssh, it's starting!" Hutch said excitedly, settling back in the couch himself.
Starsky couldn't help but grin at how excited his friend was. Maybe this movie had something to it after all...
"And it's commercial free!" Hutch announced happily. Starskys' jaw dropped. "No commercials?! When am I supposed to go to the john?"
"Don't drink so much beer?" Hutch suggested with a shrug.
"What are you, a comedian or something?!" Starsky asked incredulously. Don't drink so much beer? Might as well say don't breathe...
The music began, the titles rolled, the only sound, the fiddler on the roof, who else? Before long, a stocky built man, a bearded peasant, came on screen and began to explain, as though speaking directly to each viewer, about his life in his Russian village called Anatevka. The scenery was breathtakingly beautiful, even though the village itself was obviously a poor, rundown area. But as Tevye, the village milkman, explained proudly, Anatevka was their home, everything that drove them on, everything they did in their lives, they did because of one word - tradition.
Before Starsky knew it, the next scene came on screen and it was Tevyes' three grown daughters, singing about their future husbands being chosen for them by Yente, the village matchmaker. Starsky chuckled, realizing that Yente curiously reminded him somewhat of his grandmother, Nana Starsky, back in New York when he was growing up.
"My gram always liked to set people up." he leaned over and whispered to Hutch as the girls sang "Matchmaker".
"Was she good at it?" Hutch asked. Translation, did the couples stay together over the years?
"Worked for my ma and pop." Starsky grinned proudly, tossing a handful of greasy chips into his mouth, wiping his hand absentmindedly on the pillow next to him on the sofa.
"Hey!" Hutch admonished. "That's MY pillow you're staining!"
But Starsky was busy staring at one of the daughters dancing and singing on the screen. "I like her, she's pretty. Which one is she, Hodel?" he asked, pointing a greasy finger.
Hutch grinned, knowing what was coming in the film. "Funny you should say that..." he muttered under his breath.
Starsky turned to frown questiongly at Hutch, who shook his head and waved his attention back to the screen, stealing some chips from the bag in Starskys' lap. "Get your own!" Starsky hissed.
"These ARE mine, mushmouth!" Hutch said, pulling the bag from Starskys' greasy hands. "YOU get YOUR own!"
Starsky waited a beat. "Can I have some of your chips?" he asked meekly in a small voice. Hutch shook his head and sighed. "Here." he volunteered, handing Starsky the bag back, slamming it into his chest. "Don't say I never gave you anything." Starsky suppressed a winning smile. "Thanks, Blondie." Hutch grinned back, his attention on the television.
The scene had blended into Tevye, now in his barn, dancing in the loft, wondering what life would be like "If I Were A Rich Man"...
"Hey, Hutch..." Starsky asked quietly, as he could tell Hutch was really into the movie. "Ever wonder what it would be like to be rich?"
"Starsk," Hutch sighed, sipping at his beer, his attention on the film. "I have my health, my home, career, family and friends, and most of all, my best friend. I AM a rich man."
Starsky blushed and smiled warmly. He was speechless for probably the first time in his life.
"... and then I have YOU..." Hutc grinned, shrugging as he popped a handful of chips into his mouth, wiping HIS hands on Starskys' jersey. "Now shut up and watch."
Starsky shook his head, chuckling, and punched his friend on his shoulder.
"Police brutality!" Hutch called, wide-eyed, holding up both hands. "Hey, here comes the part!" he shouted, sitting up straight.
"Ssh." Starsky admonished, his index finger pressed to his lips. "Shut up and watch." he repeated, pointing towards the set.
Now Tevye was sitting in his milk cart in the village, other men around him as they talked about the upcoming Sabbath. Before he knew it, Hutch was staring at the character he swore up and down looked JUST like his best friend, the character of Perchik.
There were the same brown unruly curls, the same face, same build...
everything except the eyes. Whereas Starskys' were deep blue, Perchiks' were a dark, blazing brown. Other than that, Hutch could swear he was seeing double. Perchik even SOUNDED like his partner...
But Starsky couldn't see the resemblance.
"Naw, I'm better looking than him." he surmised, downing his beer and opening yet another, recrossing his legs on the coffee table. Pointing at the tv set, he shook his head. "How could you think he looks like me?"
Hutch did a double take, staring at Starsky with his mouth hanging open. "Are you serious?!" he asked a bit too loud, sitting on the edge of the sofa. "Open your eyes, Starsk, that guy is YOU!"
"Nah..." Starsky scrunched up his face, leaning over to look closer at the set. "You think?"
Hutch sighed heavily and fell back against the sofa once again, shaking his head. "No, I don't think you look like him at ALL. I just wanted you to sit and watch this movie 'cause I had two hours of my life to kill..." Sarcasm dripped from his voice.
By this time, the scene had shifted to Tevyes' family, along with Perchik and Motel, the young village tailor, in his home, spending the Sabbath as "Sabbath Prayer", a beautiful, haunting, melodic song played, with voices building and harmonizing. Perchik had met Hodel and was instantly taken with her. Hutch smiled, knowing Starsk was watching closely. Leaning over, Starsky began to explain to Hutch the importance of Sabbath to his people, as Jews. Hutch listened intently, always curious to know more about Starskys' faith, as Starsky didn't speak much of it. His friend wasn't a practicing Jew, but he did observe the Jewish holidays with reverence, and took pride in his people.
When they turned their attention back to the movie, Golde, Tevyes' wife, was telling him about the match Yente had made for their oldest daughter, Tzeitel, to Lazar Wolf, the village butcher, a well-to-do man many years older than Tzeitel, who was quite unhappy upon hearing about the match. She and Motel, the tailor, had been in love most of their young lives and had long since pledged their love to each other from childhood.
"She won't be happy." Starsky frowned, shaking his head. "She doesn't love Lazar Wolf, she loves Motel." he explained the obvious in a quiet voice. Hutch turned a bit towards his friend and smiled. Starsky was really beginning to get into the story by now. Just as Hutch had hoped.
After Tevye went to Lazar Wolf to finalize plans for the marriage, over a bottle of vodka, they stumbled over to the village watering hold to drink a toast to the agreement. Before too long, both were quite drunk and the singing and dancing began. Starsky smiled, enjoying the music he'd heard growing up and stared wide-eyed at the amazing dancers as he explained "L'Chaim" - to life - to Hutch. Hutch never realized watching the film would turn into such a lesson in Starskys' religious beliefs and Jewish background.
"Hey, Hutch!" Starsky said brightly.
"What?" Hutch asked, turning to his friend.
"L'Chaim!" Starsky grinned, holding his beer out, which Hutch promptly clicked with his own can.
"L'Chaim, partner." he smiled back, chuckling.
Fast forward. Now, after having spoken with Tzeitel and Motel and realizing they were indeed meant for each other, Tevye had to come up with an honorable way to break the deal he'd made with Lazar Wolf. His daughters' happiness was the most important thing to him. So he devised a plan, a dream, rather, a nightmare, which he described to Golde after waking them from a sound sleep with his screams. It would be just what Tevye needed to back out of the arrangement while saving face all around. If Grandmother Tzeitel had "mysteriously" come back from the dead to give her blessing to the marriage of her namesake granddaughter to Motel the tailor instead of Lazar Wolf, Golde would have no other choice than to accept it.
It was beginning to get dark outside Hutchs' place by now, the winds howling with the building of a storm in the distance, only serving to add to the fear slowly building in Starsky. The nightmare scene in the movie wasn't helping him any, as he'd had more than his share of nightmares in his life, some indeed, involving long since deceased family members as was the case in the film. Hutch had to admit the scene was pretty gruesome, filmed in black and white with frighteningly real makeup and flowing ghostly outfits, complete with shallow graves, thunder and lightening flashing, twirling beds and screaming ghouls. The scary music was totally unnerving, completing the frightening scene.
Hutch could sense the change in Starsky hunkered down next to him on the sofa. Almost unnoticeably, Starsky moved closer to Hutch, edging over as he grabbed the pillow that had been sitting next to him and hugged it protectively to his chest, all the while his wide eyes not daring to leave the screen. Starskys' knees were now pulled up to his chest, his Adidas resting on the edge of the coffee table.
Towards the end of the scene when the music had built to a screaming crescendo, Starsky suddenly jumped, lurching forward, a gasp escaping him as his foot made contact with and promptly knocked over the full can of beer he'd just opened. It spilled all over Hutchs' coffee table, soaking everything in sight. Starsky lept to his feet to upright to can, but the damage had already been done, beer flowed everywhere. "Aw, shit!" Starsky shouted.
"Got it!" Hutch called over his shoulder, jumping up to grab some towels from the kitchen. Bending over to wipe up the spill, he eyed Starsky.
"Way to go, Gordo." he admonished. "Thought I was the klutz..."
"Sorry, Hutch..." Starsky apologized sincerely, embarrassed and blushing a deep red as he helped clean up the mess. "I'm sorry..." Hutch could tell his friend truly felt bad from the tone of his voice.
"'s okay, partner, no harm, no foul." Hutch sighed, tossing the soaked towels back into the kitchen where they landed in the sink with a wet plop. Hutch sat down close to his friend on the sofa once again. "Don't worry about it, buddy, accidents happen. I needed to water that plant anyway..." he shrugged.
Starsky smiled meekly. "Sorry," he mouthed, looking up through his dark lashes.
Hutch leaned over, setting his hand on Starskys' shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.
"Scene's over. It's okay now." he winked.
Starsky leaned over and momentarily rested his hand on Hutchs' arm. The frightening scene was behind them and all was forgiven.
They turned their attention back to the film. They were now at the scene where the third daughter, Chava, met the forbidden Russian, Fyedka, who would come to be her husband in the movie, against Tevyes' wishes. Starsky proceeded to explain to Hutch WHY the marriage wouldn't work, but deep down Starsky was an old romantic, despite his gruff exterior, and hoped, despite their religious and ethnic difference, that their love would be true. "What a softie..." Hutch thought to himself as he shook his head.
Continued in part II