01x08 - You Mean All This Time We Could Have Been Friends?

[bunniefuu]

Pauline. Hi, I'm Adam Freeman. Ah.

Nice to meet you. If you want to
grab a seat Very nice to meet you.

in the chair here, we're ready for you.
Hmm.

Um, thank you again for doing this.
My pleasure.

We really appreciate it.
Shouldn't be more than...

maybe an hour or two, if you have it.

Just a little bit.

Working for Bob,

I'd come to feel like a doormat.

Only, you know, the kind of doormat

that's holding up the whole house.

Um, at the time, I was...

I was going with a very
pleasant mortgage broker,

Howard, and I thought,

"What if I follow Howard on his
transfer to Pontiac, Michigan

and try to find reward
in simple domesticity?"

But I read in the free press

about someone in Detroit

filming veterans'
testimony on w*r crimes,

so I turned up.

Asked if I could help on set.

Not knowing that there would be

so much more opportunity
for me in documentary

than in Hollywood feature films.

How did you come to reconnect
with Joan Crawford?

I ran into her at LaGuardia.

Um, she was wearing a Pepto pink dress

and a mask of chalk-white foundation,

being wheeled through the airport

with broken ankles, drunk. Alone.

And for all our past difficulties,

when I touched her arm, she cried.

She called me "old friend"

and asked me to visit her in Manhattan.

She seemed very much tossed away.

No, Roz.

Easy Rider.

You know, the one where the actor

is dressed all in fringe
like an Indian chief.

And that Jack Nicholson,
is he vaguely cross-eyed?

Oh! Aah!

We got the same harried situation

when we dropped in to
pick up wounded soldiers.

It's typical of the Viet...

When the attention of
the hijackers was diverted,

the two hostages slipped
from the rear door...

Don't you like dancing?

No, not with strangers.

Never? Never.

Thanks very much.

Not at all.

Carl, it's Joan Crawford.

I'm so terribly sorry,

but I'm not going to be able
to meet you for lunch today.

No.

Please excuse me. Thank you.

Look!

Here's your new home.

Yes.

I will make myself available to you

on a part-time basis.

Princess Lotus Blossom,

this is Mamacita.

I, uh, told my mother the
great Joan Crawford...

was on the books today.

She made me promise to ask

when you'll reteam with Bette Davis.

It hurts.

Yeah. The infections are pretty severe.

And by my count,
you're missing six molars?

Extractions.

What kind of medieval dental practice

extracts six teeth without
putting in implants?

I did it when I was 23.

It's called "the buckle."

When you remove the back teeth,

your cheeks curve in at
a more elegant angle.

Why the heck would you do that?

My agent told me if I
wanted to work past 25,

I should invest in a set of cheekbones.

You can't catch their eye if
you can't catch the light,

so I did the buckle.
It was not uncommon.

It's also led to bone loss.

There's barely anything holding
your remaining teeth in place.

Well,
you know what they say about stars.

They're like Christmas trees.

Once the lights are off,

you sit there and watch
the needles drop.

I'm gonna recommend
you to a periodontist

to operate on the infections

and get you on Darvocet for the pain,

but your problems are
gonna get a lot worse

unless we take care of
the other offenders:

the old caps,
the teeth pushing into open spaces.

I want to fit you for an overdenture.

A denture. Mmm.

No.

I'll do the surgery if I have to,

but no dentures.

I'd rather spit blood into a sink

than look like Martha Raye.

Miss Crawford, at your age,

you need to worry more
about staying healthy

than staying photogenic.

I'll stop worrying about how I look

when they dip me in formaldehyde.

Miss Joan,

time to wake up.

Up, up, up.

Your agent called.

He wants to meet with you this evening.

Stan?

I... I haven't talked to him in months.

The Missing Link?

It's a B movie.
I told them you wouldn't be interested.

Well, who would I play?

You'd play an anthropologist

who has discovered a caveman

who has been preserved
for millennia in ice.

A scientist?

Oh,
I had dreamed of playing Madame Curie.

When I was at MGM,

I begged Louie to cast me
in that picture, but...

Well, this is hardly that, Joan.

It's not MGM.

It's more like a Hammer Horror picture.

I'd advise against it.

I'll do it.

Joan.

Look, Stan...

I need to work.

And if I deliver

a fine performance

in an independent picture...

I mean,
you know how the Academy loves to reward

that kind of star turn.

They're not paying much.

I'll accept a reduced salary,

but will they cover the
travel expenses for my maid?

I'm afraid not.

Hmm.

Well, it'll be an adventure.

Well, let's talk about the
other very generous offer

from Simon & Schuster.

Lifestyle advice book for women.

How does Joan Crawford keep her house?

How does she throw a dinner party?

How does she maintain those famous legs?

Is there still a market

for something like that?

Of course there is, Joan.

You're an icon.

We'll get you a state of
the art tape recorder.

You can get your thoughts down.

We'll hire someone to type it up.

And if the book is a hit, potentially,

it's a huge branding opportunity.

Joan Crawford luggage,

Joan Crawford dinnerware,

Joan Crawford plastic furniture covers.

I would love that.

Oh, sorry.

Joan Crawford.



and you look like you
stepped off the pages

of McCall's.

Freddie Francis, your director.

Oh.

I don't look a mess?

You know, the car never arrived

to take me to the hotel,

so I had to hire a cab

to bring me straight
here from the airport.

My apologies. We're still
getting our little production

up on its feet.

But rest assured,

Trog is going to be a
first-rate production.

Trog? What is Trog?

Oh, as in troglodyte.

Trog... it's the title of the movie.

I thought the picture was
entitled The Missing Link.

We changed it to pop out on the posters.

Picture it: Trog.

And what is that?

Oh, uh, your co-star.

Trog.

But he has no hair on his arms

or his legs.

Well,
you two will be sharing a makeup table,

so perhaps you can help refine his look.

You mean I don't have a
private dressing room?

Well, our budget doesn't really
allow for such luxuries.

And when we're out on location,

am I expected to change behind a bush?

Oh, certainly not.
We've got you a vehicle.

What kind of vehicle?

We can put in some curtains.

Whoa.

This is Joan Crawford.

Let's begin with my point of view.

I always say, treasure yourself.

I do a certain amount of self-pampering.

I surround myself with happy colors.

Have you worked with
Freddie Francis before?

I sit on hard chairs.

Soft ones spread the hips.

People ask me if I turn
up at board meetings

wearing tailored costumes
and muted colors.

Oh, no.

I wear shocking pink and lovely hats.

No man ever did a poor job

because he had an
attractive woman to look at.

Every woman tries to be a good mother,
and then wonders,

if after all her efforts,

her children will wind up
on a head shrinker's couch

complaining about their bad treatment.

Joan?

I mistrust people who
don't like animals.

That's fine, Trog.

He understands.

The prime objective of our program is

to gradually pull Trog

across a time span right into
the heart of the 20th century.

Seems like an impulsive...

I'm so sorry. Excuse me.

Is there

any way to say this with fewer words?

And action.

If he's as old as you say he is,
how did he survive?

Uh, conceivably, Trog,
uh, was frozen solid

during the long, long... glacial age.

Uh, a-a state similar to...
chyro... I'm sorry.

Let me start that. A state similar to

chyro... uh, suspen...

I'm sorry,
could you give me the line, please?

Can we get the cue cards for Joan?

Oh, I... I... All right.

There are no hard and fast rules

for fending off an outright pass,

especially if it comes from the boss.

Every intelligent woman has her
own method of turning it down

without wounding a sensitive male ego.

Join us for a pint.

Oh.

Thank you very much, but I simply can't.

An even cleverer woman knows how

to prevent the pass in the first place.

If you can't control your cleavage,
your perfume,

your walk and your eyelashes,

you'd better stay out of the business.

Here are a few items no dieter
should ever have in the house:

peas, lima beans, avocadoes, olives,

dried beans, corn, butter, most cheese.

Creamed chicken with mash
potatoes makes too much mush.

Always serve something
crisp with something soft.

It's just beginning to
ring a bell in your head, yes.

Now it's becoming clear, clearer.

You're remembering the
att*ck on your village.

Yes, yes.
All the beauty products in the world

can't disguise a
disagreeable expression.

Have you ever noticed that when you say,

"no,"
you resemble a prune-faced schoolmarm?

Well, let's sh**t it.

Remind you of your youth at MGM, Joan?

I feel as if clothes are people.

When I buy a dress, that's a new friend.

I have a tremendous respect for fabrics.

She's been spending her nights here.

Says she's practicing her blocking.

But tonight,
she just seems a wee bitty lost.

is a living reminder
of our ancestors who...

I don't know this. Leave her alone.

The apes

who left the forest and...

I love people.

I've been asked if I ever go
around in disguise. Never!

I want to be recognized.

When I hear people say,
"There's Joan Crawford,"

I turn around and say, "Hi.
How are you?"

Make it to Brenda.

Yes.

Wow. You're even more
glamorous in real life.

Thank you, Brenda.

I hope you enjoy reading
my beauty secrets

I've picked up over the years.

Oh.

Is there stuff about Trog in there?

I've seen it six times.

"Trog, stop it."

What a riot.

Brenda,
there's a long line of readers wondering

what makes you so special as
to monopolize all my time.

These people aren't here to
buy the book for my advice.

They're here to buy it to mock me.

Well,
you should be grateful for the turnout.

They've hardly been buying it at all.

If you don't mind, I have

two items for you to sign.

Baby Jane.

Why don't you have a picture

from Grand Hotel, or Mildred Pierce, or

any of the 30 years of pictures I made

before Baby f*cking Jane?

I like all your movies, Miss Crawford,

but this one is special to me.

Why? Because you think it's funny?

No. I mean, yeah, it's funny.

But I love it because Blanche
and Baby Jane are cast aside,

beaten down and forgotten,

but they never give up hope
that they'll rise again.

They're survivors.

What do you know about survival?

Why are they running
these pictures of us?

They're awful.

It is not so bad.

It's monstrous.
That's why they're running them.

Poor Roz... she's fighting leukemia,

no wonder her face is as big as a moon,

but there must have been
better pictures of me.

You were tired and emotional.

Is that really how I look?

Well, if that's how they see me,
they'll never see me again.

Stan,

I want you to stop
submitting me for roles.

I'm done.

You know, in Japan,

when you turn 60,
you put on this bright red hat,

and you celebrate kanreki.

It's your second childhood.

Life isn't over. It's just beginning.

Can I ask you something?
Is your grandmother still alive?

Yes.

Give her a call.

Oh, looks comfortable.
Isn't comfortable.

So, Victor, after all the drama
involved in its production,

how do you think Charlotte turned out?

Have you interviewed Bette yet?

She's rescheduled on
us a number of times.

Well, there'll be hell to pay

if she finds herself unfairly maligned,

but at the risk of taking my lashes,
I'll tell you.

I think Charlotte was just okay.

It didn't have the magic of Baby Jane,

and the New York Times

called Bette's performance "resentable."

Hmm. Was she upset? Oh.

Failure made her desperate.

She was sure that every job
she got would be her last.

She snatched up every
offer that came her way,

and she lost that special something

that I considered her signature.

What was that?

Her high standards.

Do you think my type is coming back?

So it's top secret.

If any man in Washington can
declassify it for me, you can.

Eight

pilots she made.

It was like Miles Davis playing jingles

for lunch meat commercials.

And I've told her this to her face.

We're friends because I tell the truth.

But... what devastated her, in fact,

was that the force of her
talent wasn't even enough

to get one of the eight
bought for series.

What idiots

are these businessmen
that they pay for a pilot

and then they don't bother
to put it on the air.

They must make measure

of whether the shows will
be losers over time.

Plenty of losers get bought.
Why not mine?

Is that really what you want, my dear?

To spend your years in Burbank,
playing a hypochondriac judge?

Oh, I don't know how this happened.

Hepburn is off doing Albee
and Tennessee Williams

and being nominated for Academy Awards.

Am I not

every bit her equal?

Am I not every bit as
interesting as she is?

How does she manage?

But Katharine sometimes says no.

Well, she doesn't have to
support children, does she?

And she's a snob.

Did you know that

Life magazine wanted

to photograph the two of us together?

The two legends.

I bought a flight to New York,

and she ignored their calls.

Life magazine!

And when she finally answered them...

she said she didn't
want to pose with me.

Nothing good can come
from comparing yourself.

If Katharine were sitting right there...

you know what I'd say to her?

I would say...

"I pity you.

"I have had an experience
that you will never have.

"And thank God I had it,

because...
I have the love of my children."

Oh. What, no kiss for Mother?

Not with a cough like that.

Oh, Christ.

Old Hollywood is really over.

Look at this place.
It's really gone down.

Just hope the food is still good.

I was so looking forward
to a real girls' lunch.

Let's make a day of it, hon.
Seems as if they don't

have barbershops in Pennsylvania.

Why don't I take you to my salon?

Jeremy likes my hair this way. Well,

of course. It's in keeping
with his caveman sensibility.

I'm kidding, darling.

Well, Jeremy's old-school
ways seem to suit you.

Everyone thought you'd
be divorced by 18,

and look at you... you're still in love.

It's marvelous.

Why don't we ask him

to join us this afternoon?

And we could take the
children to the observatory.

Jeremy went back to Pennsylvania.

With the boys.

What? But they were meant to
spend the rest of the week

with me. I...
I booked an acting coach for Ashley

to help him with his diction,

and we've had plans for the zoo. You...
My children

aren't staying with you ever again,
Mother.

Ashley told us

you b*at on his baby brother last night.

Well, I did no such thing.

Wh... Why would he say that?

You didn't b*at Justin for crying

when Jeremy and I left for the hotel?

Oh, I swatted him.

He was throwing a temper tantrum,
he was out of control.

You traumatized him.

I swatted you a thousand times...
did I traumatize you?

From now on, if you want to
visit with your grandchildren,

you may do so at our farm,
under supervision.

After you do something about
your drinking problem.

Since when do you...

since when do you think I'm a drunk?

You're sitting right there
with a margarita at 11:00 a.m.

Let's order some guacamole.

Everything seems dire
on an empty stomach.

I'm not eating with you.

I came here

to say what I had to say.

I want to run some blood work.

No, ma'am, I just need something to...

soothe my cough.

We'll both be happier
preventing your problems

than trying to solve
them once they dig in.

You're not 18.

Oh, thanks. News flash.

Can I persuade you to
lay off the smoking?

Look, I'm off booze.

I can't give up cigarettes.
They're my only friends.

How long ago did you stop drinking?



white-knuckle detox, Bette.

So you need help with your
drinking problem. Big whoop.

A lot of women your age turn
to alcohol when they have

little else to do.

I'll grab you some brochures
on rehab facilities.

Oh, no. I'm... I can't go to rehab.

I can't, I've got the Dean Martin roast.

Oh...

the roast.

It was the cruelest of degradations.

Demeaned and insulted by
fifth-rate celebrities.

And here's one

from Harold Donaldson from Detroit.

"Dear Miss Davis,
my wife and I just saw your film

"What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?

"Could you settle an argument for us?

In private life, are you and
Joan Crawford really brothers?"

Bette was the queen of Hollywood.

Back in the days where
queens were still ladies.

And Joan Crawford was king.

Miss Crawford has always been envious

of Bette's voluptuous figure.

As a matter of fact,

Joan used to borrow Bette's bras

to use them as shoulder pads.

Did she tell Joan how
bad she felt about the roast?

No. And I think she regretted it.

Especially after Aimee. Aimee?

Aimee Semple McPherson,
the famed evangelist.

I met her.

You did? 1932

at the Foursquare Gospel Church.

What a performer.

A fraudulent evangelical minister

who faked her own kidnapping.
Can you imagine?

Well,
I begged the studio to let me play her.

Not a single bite.

In '76 Bette landed a role
playing not the minister

but the mother in The
Disappearance of Aimee.

Right, the Faye Dunaway movie.

Ooh. If you ever do end
up interviewing Bette,

I'd advise against calling it that.

For all her complaints about Joan,

she didn't know true
hatred until she met Faye.

Hanging in there, Miss Davis?

If I hang in here any longer,
I'll fall off my branch.

You know, locations used to come to me.

Here, Anthony, I want to read you this.

A passage.

"And Moses sayeth to his brethren,

"'The Lord shall afflict
you with lesions

"'all over your body
if you be not punctual

"'in your laborings,

"'even if you are very pretty

and the star of Chinatown.'"

Is that from Romans?

Our call was 6:00 a.m.

I arrived at 5:45.
I did not see Miss Faye Dunaway

in her makeup chair until 7:00.

It is now 11:00,
and while we all roast to death

in this toaster oven,

you, sir, have still

not gotten off your first g*dd*mn sh*t.

I could have kicked that part

right out of the park.

Well, you're an intimidating presence,
Bette.

Put yourself inside
Faye Dunaway's shoes.

I just think maybe she didn't
come out of her trailer

because she was afraid she
couldn't keep up with you.

There is no excuse for
unprofessionalism.

Hell, it almost makes you miss Crawford.

At least she had the
decency to show up on time

and she was the first one on the set

and the last one to leave.

My God.

Oh, I never thought I'd live to hear you

breathe a kindness about Joan Crawford.

Well, don't tell a soul.

It will cut all my talk
show appearances in half

if anyone thinks that I've
gone soft on Crawfish.

Mm.

She has cancer, you know.

What?

Hasn't left her apartment in months,
I hear.

Cancer isn't going to k*ll Joan.

She's a cockroach, just like me.

You should call her.

She doesn't want to talk to me.

Of course she would.

You mean something to her.

You and she have so much in common.
You're both Aries.

You're both single mothers
to angry children.

You've each been married four times.

In many ways, I hate to say this,

but... she may be the only person

in the entire world who knows
how you really feel right now.

I have been reading in the columns...

she's been saying very
nice things about Dunaway.

She even said she would want
Faye Dunaway to play her

in a picture.

I should warn her.

Yes.

Go ahead and warn her.

Do you want to watch?

Oh.

Who's that?

Hmm.

Hello.

Hello?

This is Joan Crawford.

Who's calling at this late hour?

Is anyone there?

Hello?

Nobody there.

Coming.

Oh, Cathy darling. Oh!

Mommie dearest. Oh.

Oh, look.

Oh, my little angels.

Oh!

Oh, I think the microwave

is the most wonderful invention
of the 20th century.

You don't mind paper plates,

do you, dear? Mamacita only comes in

three times a week, and I...
I hate to leave a mess for her.

No, Mommie, that's fine.

Oh, there's my darling girl,

there's my sweet girl.

Ah.

Mommie. Hmm?

I'm worried about you.

Mamacita says you've stopped
seeing your doctor.

Yes, dear, that's right.

Do you think that's wise?

Well...

Western medicine thinks it can

poison this cancer out of me,

but since I've adopted the tenets

of Christian Science,

I have been feeling a
wonderful new vigor,

I really have.

I feel like I could take
anything life could throw at me.

Speaking of which,

have you talked to your sister?

Cindy and I speak all the time.

Oh, no, darling.

I know you and Cindy do.

Of course you do.

No, I... I was referring

to your elder sister, to Christina.

Uh, no.

Not recently.

My editor tells me

she's been writing a book. Oh.

It's about me, evidently.

Alleging the most vile things.

You have to understand...

I was at the height of my career

when she was little.

We never enjoyed the
quality time together

like I had with you and Cindy.

The little time that I did have,

I worked so hard

at instilling the proper values in her.

I only wanted her

to appreciate her advantages.

Of course, Mommie, of course.

My editor asked if...

I wanted to read an advance copy

of the galleys, but...

why spend the days of your life

reading something that
could only hurt you?

Children,

I told you before we got here,
no sliding on Grandma's floors.

No, no, no. It's all right, dear.

Look, they're enjoying themselves.

Just be careful. Don't hurt yourselves.

No, what's a few scuff marks?
It doesn't matter.

Do they think of me as
their real grandmother?

Of course.

I don't know how much they understand

about you being adopted.

No, Mommie, they understand

that you picked me and their Aunt Cindy

out of all of the children in the world.

And that we wouldn't have
chosen any other mother,

because we had the best one
anyone could ever have.

Okay?

Oh.

Hello?

Hello?

You remember?

I do.

Hedda?

Jack, what are you doing here?

Oh, Joan,
did you ever hear of the Cataract?

Not the C...

The Cascade.

Oh. A movie house Jack and his brothers

used to run in Pennsylvania. Yeah.

That's right. Sam ran the picture,

Abe kept the books,
Harry broke the balls,

and I broke the hearts. Aw.

He used to sing in the
aisles between showings.

Oh, Jack.

Sing for Joan.

Oh, Jack, if a young actor had come in

and sung like that for you,

you'd have put him on the
first bus out of town.

Yeah. Thank God I never had any talent.
Mm.

That makes two of us.

I had plenty of talent, Mr. Warner.

I just had the foresight not
to be the talent forever.

Well, now,
what is wrong with being the talent?

Well, everyone thinks you
have the world on a string,

but it's the other way around.

It's much better to be the one
pulling the string, darling.

Oh.

I know that. Yes, indeed.

You two made my life miserable.

Made every job I ever had
a fight to the death.

Oh, come on, Joan.
You act like you're the only one

who had to cup your balls and do

hand-to-hand combat. Think about

all those WASPs who didn't let

our kids into private schools,

who told me to be a good Jew and
go back to the garment district.

And you know better than anyone, Joan,

my hundred years' w*r with Louella.

Yes,
but no one was taking sides against you.

No one was throwing gasoline
on your resentments.

Well, the expression is
not "unite and conquer."

No, but why?
Why did I need to be conquered?

What other way was there?

Let the animals run the zoo?

What is she doing here?

Be friendly, Joan. We're having a party.

Tell 'em what it did to you, Joan.

Tell 'em what they did to you.

Tell us. Go on, darling.

Well, I suppose...

I felt like I always had to be on.

That if someone caught
a glimpse of the girl

beneath the movie star, then, poof,

I'd go back to that sad
little wretch I'd been.

You know, so...

I spent my whole life

being Joan Crawford.

A woman I created for others.

I don't know who-who I am

when I'm by myself.

I think you should apologize to Joan,
Jack.

Both of you should.

Uh... well, I'll do it if he does.

All right.

On the count of three.

One...

two... Two...

three. three.

It wouldn't come out!

No.

Oh... Now, Joanie, look, look,

if I... if I really had known

how hard I-I'd really made it for you,
I...

I wouldn't have done a
f*cking thing different...

Bastard.

Not true.

It all works out in the end, Joanie.

You know, we showbiz folks,

you know, all that anger that
we feel from not being loved...

which is the reason
we're in this business

in the first place...

all the tears and the
screaming and the-the rage,

it all disappears.

And the public,

what they remember, for the most part,

is the good stuff.

The work.

And all the joy that we brought them.

Trust me,

all the suffering will
have been worth it.

Will it, really?

All that pain

will finally amount to something?

Don't worry, sweetheart.

You will always be young,

always be beautiful,

a goddess of your time,

frozen in amber by Hurrell.

Bette, too,

though it pains me to say it.

Legends, all.

Oh, come on. Let's have a drink.

Oh, I...

I don't drink anymore.

Boring. All right, come on, Hedda.

Help me make some drinks, all right?

Nobody wields an ice
pick quite like you.

Nice apartment.

You get out much?

Theater? The Guggenheim?

No, uh, not so much, no.

Neither do I.

Do you know what I love
the most in this world?

The Young and the Restless.

Oh. Yes, that beautiful sea captain.

What is his name? Lucas Prentiss.

That's right.

Why am I so happy to see you?

Nostalgia.

Hmm.

Let's play a game.

It's called Regrets.

Oh. No, no, no.

If you draw a pip card,

you say something you
feel sorry you did.

If you draw a face card,

you say something you wish you had done.

That doesn't sound like a very fun game.

It's the only game I know.

I'm sorry...

I wasn't more generous with you.

I wish...

I wish I'd been a friend to you.

Well, it's not too late, is it?

We can start now.

Let's have

a champagne toast.

Mamacita!

Oh, I'm so glad that you came here.

You know, I've often

fantasized about staying up
late like two girlfriends,

talking about Bob and,

well, all the other men

that we've known along the way.

Mamacita!

The champagne!

It's silly that we've
spent all these years

at odds with each other.

But we can start over.

Why don't you stay here with me,
as my guest?

You don't have to rush
back to Connecticut,

do you? Miss Joan.

What are you doing?

Bring the champagne, dear.

You are not drinking.

Well, then bring some for my friend,
Bette.

There is no one there.

She must have slipped out.

Did you help

Hedda and Jack in the kitchen?

Come, Miss Joan.

Come. We go to bed.

Good.

I-I can't go to bed.

I have guests.

There is no one else here.

It is just you and I.

Thank you, Mamacita.

She d*ed one week later.

We embalmed her.

We made her look the way she liked.

And then we cremated her body.

She had a big funeral, yeah?

Not as big as Judy Garland's,
but star-studded?

Yes.

Myrna Loy, Anita Loos, Andy Warhol.

Jack Valenti got the studios to
observe a moment of silence.

It made me sad.

To say good-bye to her?

No, because they all showed up

to say good-bye.

But when she was alive,
when she needed them most,

no one was there.

What?

Miss Davis,

this is Jan Tomlinson
with the AP Wire Service.

Good morning.

Ah, I've lost track of the days.

Are there nominations
announced or something?

No, Miss Davis.

Joan Crawford d*ed this morning.

Do you have a comment?

My mother always said

don't say anything bad about the dead.

Only say good.

Joan Crawford is dead.

Good.

I was in the neighborhood.
Oh, Miss Davis.

Is she in her room? Uh, yes.

Margot, darling.

It's Mommy.

Hello, sweetheart.

Oh, look what you're doing.

What a nice drawing.

Look at how beautifully you're
filling those hearts in.

I did a drawing, myself.

Well, I didn't actually do the drawing.

A lovely man named Don did it. I met him

at Roddy McDowall's.

Do you remember him?

We had a wonderful date,
a wonderful time.

Miss Davis.

I don't mean to seem rude,

but you need to sit still.

Fine.

You have an hour. That's it.

Okay.

Can... Your chin... Just...

Mmm.

Would you like to stay for dinner?

All right.

But...

But. But.

You do know I'm gay?

Of course.

We had a wonderful dinner that night,

but it would never work out
with Don because of my work.

My work has always taken first position,

and men don't want that.
But I would rather

go for something I feel
even if I get hurt.

I don't want to spend my
life protecting myself.

After dinner, the painter, Don,

he showed me the drawing that he made.

It captured the way I am now completely.

Can I see it now?

It's not finished yet.

Don't you like it?

Honestly, it...

It sort of scares me.

Then I want to see it.

Yep.

That's the old bag.

I'm sorry that I
haven't been to see you

more often, darling,

but I'm going to write you letters.

Beautiful letters.

And we'll keep them in a special box.

Would you like that?

Last week someone sent me letters

that my mother had written
to a friend of hers

years ago before she d*ed.

Many of the letters were about me.

Long story short,

my mother said terrible things
about me behind my back.

She said that I was a queen bee.

And that I was selfish.

And that it was all about me,

and that I was a pain and a chore.

She'd never said anything to me.

My own mother.

I thought she was my only friend.

But actually...

I was totally alone.

What's your pick for Best Picture,
Miss Davis?

Oh, I'd have to say The Turning Point.

It was my favorite film this year.

The men are merely dance partners,

and the women fight on the roof.
It's the story of my life.

Bette?

Are you giving Charlton an award?

Chuck Heston, yes.

He's the only actor that's
as difficult as I am.

The Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award?

Oh, I don't give a sh*t.

I'm not here to present,
I'm here to preside.

Hey, ladies,

it's the "In Memoriam."

Christ, where did the night go?

Oh, just one more time

That's it?

Christ. 50 years in show business,

and they give her two seconds.

That's all any of us will get.

To Joan.

Clean wearing, long lasting foundation.

Worn by the world's great beauties...

Miss Davis.

Hi, I'm Adam.

Yes.

Hi.

I told you in a letter,

I told you on the phone,

and now I'll tell you to your face.

I will not participate
in your documentary.

You'll want me to say funny,
bitchy one-liners

about Crawford.

I won't do it.

She was a professional.

We did one picture together.

Our lives intersected.

That's it.

I don't have anything more to say.

Miss Davis, you're on next.

Well, I guess that's it.

We'll never really know

what happened between these two women.

I want to know what
happened that first day.

When they finally were on a set together

after all those years of their feud.

That's what I want to know.

So I put a... a rubber band around it,

and I went back into the party.
What choice did I have?

Miss Crawford, Miss Davis.

Bob is calling

for your first read-through.

All ready?

I'll get my script.

Wonderful.

Bette?

Here's what I really
hope from this picture

when all is said and done:

I hope I've made a new friend.

Me, too.