01x04 - More, or Less

[bunniefuu]

Miss Davis?

Buzz Gimple.

May I say what an honor
it is to meet you?

I see Sid's got himself a Boy Friday.

I approve.

Oh, I'm not Sid's secretary.
I'm your agent.

I will be personally looking
after your day-to-day concerns.

How old are you?

Almost 23.

Almost? Mm-hmm.

Joanie!

You look ravishing. Oh.

You know the team.

Yes.
Would you care for something to drink?

Oh, no thank you.
I'd like to get right down to business.

Please sit down.

Marty, I would like

to take the twins to Greece
and Italy this year.

Every young person should
experience ancient antiquities.

So when do you think would be
a good time to schedule that?

Well, probably not August.

Gets pretty hot in Greece in August.

Right, boys?

Well, no. I-I...

I don't know what kind of
offers have been coming in,

so I thought we might review them

and, uh, then I could plan accordingly.

Nothing?

At the moment,
but we're gonna change that.

I wouldn't think I need to mention

that I am opening a picture very soon.

Yeah.

What I'd like to do is
maybe secure a few things

before the movie opens.

A guest spot on Perry
Mason, or, you know,

dinner theater has
become very chic again.

There hasn't been any offers, Joan.

Well, how is that possible?

I'm headlining

a major motion picture which opens in


just a few weeks' time.

And we're very excited about that.
Aren't we, fellas?

I did my part, Marty.

I got myself

back in the game.

I found the project,

I put up with that awful
woman for months.

And while I was suffering all that,

what was William Morris doing for me?

The landscape hasn't changed, Joan.

There's just not a lot out
there for a mature actress.

You've heard the picture's stinko.

You can't pay attention
to the tongue wagging

that goes on in this town.

They're always rooting for failure.

What have they been saying?

Well...

word around town is you and
Crawford won't be able

to get arrested after the movie opens.

They're saying you've thrown
what's left of your careers

down the toilet by doing a "B" movie.

I see.

That explains why I've been
shunted to the junior leagues.

No offense.

None taken.

Don't give up the ghost, Miss Davis.

Worst case, the movie bombs and
people forget all about it.

You'll be back.

Well, I'm sure

once the picture opens,
there'll be no end of offers.

And we'll be here to field them.

f*ck you, Marty.

If I have to

find my own projects and wait for you

to field offers instead
of drumming them up,

I don't see the point
in having an agent,

or a room full of f*cking agents.

You're all fired!

Hey, Buzz.

Looks like you lost a client.

Somebody die? Not a person.

Just your credibility. Page seven.

"Mother of three,

"30 years experience in motion pictures,

"wants steady employment in Hollywood.

References upon request."

You must listen.

I made you waste...

your whole life...

thinking you'd crippled me.

It's seamless, Mike.

I can't see where the beach
ends and the soundstage begins.

Thanks, honey.

What do we think, Skipper?

Yeah. Lock the picture, Mike.

Make sure the optical print is ready

for the sneak preview on Saturday.

Do we know where that's happening yet?

It's either Pedro or Long Beach.

Sure that's far enough away?

Well, I figure they're both ports.

I can always hop on a
freighter and make my escape.

Is the picture still running?

Because you two both sound
like a couple of old biddies.

Why is everyone
acting like it's a failure

when it hasn't even opened yet?

You hear that whistling sound?

It's a b*mb falling.

It's gonna land in 400 theaters,
all at the same time.

Mm-mm, I don't agree.

You know who goes to
the movies nowadays?

Kids and teenagers.

I mean, nobody under the age of 35

even knows who these women are.

You're wrong there, Bob.

This is where television
actually helps us.

Kids today... they grew up

watching old Crawford and Davis
movies on Sunday afternoons.

They know who they are.

And don't you forget,
they said the same thing

about Gloria Swanson ten years ago.

Sunset Boulevard had Bill Holden.

It's not the same thing at all.

What you got there?

It's a script. Oh, honey,

I can't even think about
the next thing right now.

No, no, no, of course not.

Hell, I'm not even convinced
there's gonna be a next thing.

So, you coming to the public
execution on Saturday?

Oh, I wouldn't miss it.

I don't say this often enough, Pauline.

I couldn't have done it without you.

Correct on both counts.

Go on, get drunk.

Harriet, we may have to sell the house.

What, are you worried about the picture?

I think I may have misjudged the moment.

You know, I wanted to get it done,

I wanted a measure of control,
but now we're...

We're in hoc up to our eyeballs.

If Baby Jane goes down, so do we.

Is it not good?

Honestly, I can't tell anymore.

Well,
we knew it was a gamble from the start.

If we have to sell the house,
we'll sell the house.

Yeah, what about the kids?

We'll sell them, too.

But I think we'll get
more for the house.

You don't have to go down with the ship,
you know.

If you divorce me before Saturday,

you might still get something.

Oh, I'm no fool.

I'll wait until your next
hit before I divorce you.

I see.

So you'll stick around for worse,

but if better comes along,

you're on the phone to the lawyer?

Try not to worry so much.

You know that you always get
like this before a preview.

When you're young and
so in love as we

And bewildered

By the world we see

Why do people hurt us so?

Only those in love would know...

Mamacita.

Miss Crawford is out.

That's good. May I come in?

What a town without pity can do...

It's called The Black Slipper.

It's written just for Joan.

She'd play a choreographer
falsely accused

of shoving a principal
dancer off a catwalk.

She gets locked up for m*rder,

pushed around by some
hard-bitten convict broads.

Then she's proven innocent
and whisked from her cell

to dance the dead girl's role on stage.

It's a story about the
irrepressible human sprit.

You want to leave the
script for Miss Crawford?

You're Joan's right-hand lady.

I know what that means because
I'm a right-hand lady, too.

You know better than anybody
how to get Joan on board.

I want

your advice on how to do that for this.

I see.

Mr. Aldrich will direct?

No.

Who is involved?

Me. I wrote it.

And I want to direct.

Look, I realize

there is not exactly a robust tradition

of women directors for me to build on.

Only a handful of gals
have gotten studios

to trust that they could
handle a picture.

You think I'm crazy?

I think this is a marvelous idea.

You do?

This is America.

No one can tell you you're crazy.

In Werdohl, you know how you
must live when you are born.

Born to a shoemaker,
you must make shoes.

Born a girl, you must be a mother.

Here, you decide.

There is opportunity to
become anything you want.

I will make your case with Miss Joan.

Miss Crawford!

You're in early this evening. Yes.

And looking particularly stunning.

Oh, why, thank you, Philip.

Yes, we're motoring on to
Long Beach this evening

to catch a new motion picture. Oh.

Oh, does Baby Doll premiere tonight?

Baby Jane.

No, and it's not a premiere.

It's merely a preview.

But the stars will be in attendance.
How thrilling.

Well, I'm afraid my costar

felt it more urgent to travel to Maine

to visit her daughter.

I actually think Miss
Davis smelled failure

in the air and ran away, but not me.

Win, lose or draw,

I'll always show up on time, hit my mark

and promote the product,
whether it's Pepsi-Cola

or a new motion picture.

Michael will be your
waiter this evening.

Are they still watching?

Is who still watching?

Everybody.

Yes.

They smell blood in the water.

They are smiling.

Well, of course they're smiling.

"Why,
I can smile and m*rder whiles I smile."

Jackals.

It's just like 1937 all over again.

When h*tler took Austria.

No,
when they labeled me box office poison.

I couldn't get
arrested in this g*dd*mn town.

But I was a young woman then.

I still had time to claw
my way back to the top.

But not now.

Baby Jane was my last chance.

Maybe not.

I read a beautiful script today

with a wonderful role for you.

Pauline dropped it off at the house.

Who is Pauline?

You've met her over 50 times.
She works for Mr. Aldrich.

Bob has a new script.

Well, why didn't you tell me?

Not Mr. Aldrich.

Miss Pauline... she wrote this script.

But Bob will direct it. No.

She would also direct the picture.

And you would star.

Oh, Christ.

A woman director.

Well, it really is over.

Please tell me these canisters

are marked correctly.

At the preview for Kiss Me Deadly,

the canisters got switched.

The atomic b*mb went
off in the second act.

I hear this one bombs in the first.

Just eat your goddamned sandwich.

Well, it's time to face the music,
Mamacita.

All right, Blanche Hudson!

Miss big, fat movie star!

Miss rotten, stinking actress!

Blanche.

You aren't ever gonna sell this house.

And you aren't ever
gonna leave it either.

Mamacita, they loved it.

They loved you, Miss Joan.

You know, Warner is gonna have trouble

hiding the profits on this one.

Mm... Bob.

It's Joan Crawford!

Did you enjoy the film?

Did you?

Oh, thank you for coming.

What ever happened to Baby Jane?

She could dance

She could sing

Make the biggest theater ring

Jane could do most anything

What ever happened to Baby Jane?

What ever happened to Baby Jane?

When she'd walk down the street

All the world was
lying at her feet

There was no one half as sweet

What ever happened to Baby Jane?

I see her old movies on TV

And they are always
a thrill to me

My daddy says I can
be just like her

How I wish, I wish,
I wish, I wish I were

What ever happened to Baby Jane?

To her smile, her golden hair

Why must everything be so unfair?

Is there no one left to care?

What happened to Baby Jane?

What really happened to Baby Jane?

Enjoy the show. It's a lot of fun.

Yeah, nothing more fun than a hit.

To Baby Jane?

Oh, Christ.

Miss Crawford

is such a sweetly smiling fraud

that one feels virtually
nothing for her.

No wonder her crazy sister
finds her a deadly bore.

That's what you get for
reading The New York Times.

It's one review, Joan.

The notices have been uniformly good.

Oh, good. Oh, there've been raves.

But they're all about her.

Listen.

"A brilliant tour-de-force."

"A brave and naked portrayal."

"You won't be able to take
your eyes off Miss Davis."

She has the critics, so what?

You have the audience.

You're the one they're rooting for,
not her.

You know, I-I really

thought this film was
going to be a flop.

I really did, Hedda.

And I thought, "Well,
this is going to k*ll me."

But now I wish it had
because this is even worse.

It's like I wasn't even
in the goddamned picture.

And now there's talk
of Oscar nominations.

She'll get a nomination,
but so will you.

Oh, you can't really believe that.

They wouldn't dare
nominate her and not you.

Yes, all right, she plays a lunatic,

but you play a cr*pple.

Bobby, my boy, we're breaking records!

Yeah, the picture's doing pretty good.
Pretty good?

Baby Jane is the number
one picture in America.

Well, actually, it's more like
number eight so far this year.

No. For what we spent on it,
it's number one.

Come on, sit down.

All right, so what's this I
hear from your agent, huh?

I sent you half a dozen scripts.

You don't like any of them?

They're all Baby Jane all over again.

Well, that's 'cause you
hit on a winning formula.

It's not a formula,
Jack; it was one movie.

Which nearly k*lled me being
locked up with those two dames.

I want to do something a lot
less dangerous, you know?

Like a, uh,
like a w*r picture or a Western.

No. Let's leave the w*r pictures

and the Westerns to John Ford, okay?

When it comes to two broads

b*ating the hell out of each other,

that's where you really shine.

No, Jack.

No more "B" horror movies.

I'm capable of so much more.

I'm back now. I want to show
people what I can really do.

Wh-What,
like your Oscar-winning masterpiece?

Why not?

Well...

How about because that's
never gonna happen?

I mean, what do you think,

you're like a big star
director all of a sudden, Bob?

I mean, no offense,

but you're a journeyman.

Strictly "B" list.

Don't start getting ideas in your head

that you're like Michelangelo.

You know, you're the wop

working in the f*cking tile factory.

We need tiles.

Yeah, well,
even the schmuck in the tile factory

has dreams, Jack.

Dreams are delusions.

And right now, you're delusional.

The next script I give you,
you're gonna do.

Well, thank you for the
opportunity of Baby Jane.

I really appreciate it, Jack.

But I'm done with horror
and aging actresses.

I'm not gonna say yes to anything

that doesn't challenge me.

Okay.

Fine.

Go get challenged.

But when your next movie is a b*mb,

or the one after that,

you'll be back.

And you know what?

I'll probably take your call.

Do you know why?

'Cause I got a soft spot for losers,
Bobby.

A soft spot.

You'll be back.

Come in.

Miss Pauline.

Oh. Pauline, hello.

No, Mamacita, please stay.

This pile is for charity.

But all of that,

I want you to hang back
up in the closet, please.

A little early spring cleaning?

Thank you for coming to see me.

Thank you for asking.

And congratulations,
by the way, on Baby Jane.

You couldn't pay for better reviews.

I let the fans tell me when
a picture is successful,

not the critics.

Pauline, I want to thank you
for passing this along to me.

I did you the courtesy
of not reading it.

I see no reason to venture an opinion

on something I have no
intention of doing.

Well, I wish you would reconsider.

I know that it's unorthodox,

the idea of a woman director,
but it's not unprecedented.

Think of the women

who ruled the silent era.

Where are they now?

What do you guess prevented

the next great wave of women directors?

I don't know.

Well, I do. I was there.

Money.

Money came along.

Silents were low-cost, low-risk.

A producer might shrug at the idea

of an ingenue or girl editor

taking a turn behind the camera,

but when the studios came to power,

they moved women to the feminine work.

Costumes, continuity.

Directors needed stamina,

leadership, fiscal responsibility,

so men were given the bullhorn.

And I can't say that we
are any worse off for it.

M-Miss Crawford.

I just need my first bite.

Men, they will hire based on potential,

but women, we need experience.

I'm not turning you down
because you're a woman.

I'm turning you down
because you're a nobody.

And at this late stage of my career,

I don't have the luxury

of putting myself in
the hands of a nobody.

I have very few chances left.

And my last chance is not
going to be your first.

I hope you understand that.

I'm sorry I took up your time.

Pauline.

You should consider yourself lucky.

You get to work with the
best Hollywood has to offer.

I mean,
if you're seen grabbing for too much,

you may appear ungrateful.

I appreciate that advice.

It was a sensation.

You have to understand
that women's movies

had been out of vogue
for quite some time.

I think the biggest moneymaker

that year was Lawrence of Arabia.

I don't think there was even
a girl camel in that one.

So with two women stars of our era

to suddenly have the
most successful picture

in the theaters among young people,
well,

we thought it signaled a sea change.

We had thought we'd all
start working again.

That there'd be a flood
of women's pictures.

It didn't turn out that way.

Sure as hell didn't.

The studios thought it was a fluke.

They always think it's a
fluke when a picture carried

by the girls succeeds at the box office.

And they so often do.

Baby Jane was hot.

Joan felt left out in the cold.

She did what actors have
done since Euripides...

she started hitting the bottle.

So you're saying, on the record,

that Joan Crawford was an alcoholic?

Oh, I'm not saying it, honey.

Joan herself said it.

Quote, "The twin curses of being a star

are alcoholism and loneliness."

End quote.

Can you explain that sentiment to me?

Well,
the highs you experience being a star,

they're incredible.

When you're in a role,
you get to fall in love.

You get to be

glamorous.

You can tell people how you
feel deep down inside.

Oh, it's a constant high.

And then, when you don't have a job,
a success,

or someone else is riding high,

it gets very, very quiet.

You can hear the voices of doubt.

Pick up a bottle, and suddenly
the party starts all over again.

Pain goes away.

Get her.

Well, look who's here.

If it isn't Jack Warn...
What is this sh*t

about you not wanting
to promote the picture?

Jesus Christ, Joan.

I already have a
cross-country tour announced

for the two of you.

I'm not traveling with that woman.

Besides,
why should I promote your picture

when you won't return the favor?

I know you have been out there

actively campaigning for
Davis for Best Actress.

Yeah, I have.
And I've been doing the same for you.

You got to get over this.

This is one of the biggest successes

you've had in years.

And instead of going out there

and promoting it and making it bigger,

what are you doing?

You're sitting around
here getting pickled.

I'm not pickled.

Like a herring.

It's 11:00 in the morning.

Look, Jack...

I need your support. Jesus.

I mean, come on.

I mean, if she gets nominated
and I don't... Honey...

I don't know what I'm gonna do about it.

I mean, I need you to push just
as hard for me... Okay. All right.

as you are for her. Come on.
Even harder. Okay. Come on. Stop it.

Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop.
Shut up, you assh*le.

What?! It wasn't cute when you were 45,

and it sure as hell isn't cute now.

So stop it.

You know what? What?

You were never in my corner.

All these years, you always thought

Davis had more talent than I did.

She does.

She can act rings around you.

But your ass is nice and your
tits aren't sagging, so...

Get out of my house. Okay.

You don't want to do this tour,
that's fine.

But when those nominations come out,
I want you

to be shaking hands and sucking cocks,

even if you yourself are not nominated.

Every statue that this picture wins

brings another million
dollars into our pockets.

And you have a piece of the picture.

It is your g*dd*mn
fiduciary responsibility.

assh*le!

Poor Joan.

I sometimes feel that
she had more trouble

dealing with success
than she did failure.

Bette, on the other hand, well,
she hadn't had a hit in years.

After all that time in the desert,

she wasn't about to let this
one go without enjoying it.

Hey, Bette! Where's your sister?

Where's Joan Crawford?

On the beach. Dead!

For the first time ever,
Bette seemed to enjoy

her public; she seemed to embrace

the idea of being a star.

And she was gonna hold on to
that feeling for dear life,

because she knew it
might never come again.

So what's it like

to be the cat's pajamas?

Is that what the kids
are calling it now?

I hear that you and your
costar are more popular

with the Brylcreem and
acne set than Fabian.

If that's so,

I would suggest they
send all their fan mail

to Mr. Jack Warner,

care of Warner Brothers Studios.

He didn't want to make this picture,
you know.

You know what his initial reaction was?

No, what?

He said he wouldn't put up a nickel

for us "two old broads." No.

Yes. Can you imagine?

I mean, really.

I guess we showed him there's

still a lot of life left
in these two old broads.

Hello?

Oh.

So you finally deigned to pick up, huh?

I had just walked in the... Joan?

Please stop

referring to me as an old broad,

or I'll have to consult my lawyer.

It's slander.

And it impairs my ability to

secure future work.

The only thing impairing your
ability is a fifth of vodka.

This is sad, Joan. I'm sad for you.

For me? Yes.

Jesus Christ,
we're a goddamned bona fide hit,

and you're incapable of enjoying it.

Well, it looks like you've
been enjoying it enough for

the both of us.

Half the success belongs to you.

Well, then I'd appreciate it

if you would enjoy it half as much.

Pathetic old drunk.

Sinatra's comedic
contributions to the Western.

He wants to rewrite half
of my g*dd*mn lines.

Well, maybe you got

to snap your fingers to get the jokes.

Oh,
I hope his limo gets lost in the Mojave.

Take a break.

"The Black Slipper."

I wrote it for Joan.

When the hell did you
find the time to do that?

Well, if it's something you care about,

you get up early, right?

I didn't know you were a writer.

I'm also a director.

At least, I think I am.

No, I-I am.

Uh, Pauline, I'm lost.

I wrote it to give myself
a picture to direct, Bob.

You said you couldn't have done

Baby Jane without me.

That is what you said.
Well, I know how to cast,

I know how to prep,
I know how to handle the studio.

And I am good.

I've been there every day.

I've managed more disasters than
the Army Corps of Engineers.

Of course, I realize there are things

that I do need to learn
about the camera...

Easy, partner.
You don't have to convince me.

You're good on story.
You have an impeccable eye.

And you handled those two old broads

like a lion tamer.

Thank you.

Anything else you can
pick up in a textbook.

So then you will read it

and you would consider producing?

Why do you sound so surprised?

Because some men find it off-putting,

imagining a woman in charge.

Really? What men?

Oh, your friends at the old folks' home?

It's a new world, Pauline.

Thank you, Bob.

I will not forget this.

Well, since you're in charge now,

why don't I let you

tell Sinatra where he can put this?

Boss.

You don't trust women very much, do you?

Why don't you trust people?!

No, no!
Go back to your-your fancy party!

I don't need you! Go on! Get out!

It's all right, Sergeant.

I think I just lost a client,
that's all.

Good night, toughy.

And cut!

Okay, that's lunch!

One hour!

Thank you. What a gentleman.

I liked that. How did you think it went?
Are you happy?

I am happy. Mm.

What is this big fish
doing in my little pond?

Bette, how you doing?
I'm doing television.

I want you to take me out to a fancy,
expensive restaurant.

You got it.

I want you to have this.

Open it.

It's the one millionth
ticket sold for Baby Jane,

or that's what they told me.

Oh, how nice.
I hope I don't have to pawn it.

Yeah. I saw your Variety ad.

Oh, that was just a joke.

Yeah,
I know that's how people are taking it,

but I know better.

All right, I admit, I was in a panic.

Everyone thought Baby
Jane was going to b*mb.

And it didn't. No, it didn't.

And I'm still not getting any offers.

What are you talking about?
You're doing Perry Mason.

It's television.

There's no shame in doing television.

Says the man who just signed
Sinatra and Dean Martin

to a multimillion-dollar Western romp.

Yeah, you're right.

It's disgraceful how you and Joan

aren't getting the credit you deserve.

You should both be up to
your necks in offers.

Well,
this town has always been a boys' club,

and the boys are not polite.

They're not going to hold
the door open for me.

I'm gonna have to kick it open,
the way I always have.

I found a script.

I want you to direct.

It's about two sisters...

Bette, no, I'm not going another


Crawford's not getting
anywhere near this one.

So who do you see for your costar?

Me.

I play both parts. They're twins.

Didn't you do that already?
'46. A Stolen Life.

But the technology has so improved.

And so have I.

We shouldn't be repeating ourselves,
Bette.

I don't think that's a good
move for either of us.

I understand. Completely.

Don't give it a second thought.

I'm really pleased for you, Bob,

that you've turned everything around,

and I'm so happy

that someone is getting
credit for our success.

And now you can go off and make

a big Western with the boys.

And I have my little ashtray.

Oh, come on, Bette.
You're gonna get more than an ashtray.

We both know you're gonna be
nominated for another Oscar.

What if I lose?

You won't lose.

A nomination is not gonna be enough

to turn this around for me, Bob.

I've just proven that I
can still open a picture.

If the offers aren't coming in now...

Yeah, but they will come in.

And if they don't, I promise you,

I will personally write you
another big fat f*cking hit.

Yeah.

That's what Mankiewicz said, too,

right after I lost for All About Eve.

I'm still waiting.

Wait.

That's it. Hey, hey.

Frank,

some of these costuming ideas,
I don't think

they're very practical in this context.

You got cream suede boots, uh,
linen pants, gold ascot...

Gold silk ascot.

Yeah, well, yeah, a top hat and tux

for the act three brawl...
I mean, come on,

this is the Wild West, it's Galveston.

You know, I mean, think of the dust.

There's chaw spit flying
all over the place.

I mean,
there's horseshit on the streets.

Zack Thomas doesn't walk in horseshit.

Yeah, and what about, look, page 33.

You got Fifi shining your shoes,
and you want Anita Ekberg

to give you a shave on page 108?

Bob... go to the club and get a drink.

I hear a heart att*ck coming on.

Zack Thomas is intent

on recouping his $100,000
from Joe Jarrett.

That is the picture.

Now, if every time we see Zack,
he's getting a foot rub,

how's the audience gonna
understand his ambition?

People know what I want,

and they know I don't sweat getting it.

Match me.

Zack,

what are we gonna do about Jarrett

and his gambling boat now?

Well, you don't leave me much choice.

He now has the dock rights,
thanks to you.

But don't worry about it, Harv,

opening night will be closing night.

Certainly hope so.

Sometimes think I don't have
the intestinal fortitude

for this job.

The word is "guts," Harv.

Cut, cut.

Frank,
you're looking straight down the camera.

I'm pretending it's a mirror.
Well, that's fine,

but just look to one side. No.

You go see a Sinatra comedy,
you want to see his baby blues.

You're not Sinatra,
you're Zack Thomas, and this isn't

center stage at the Sands.

It's a saloon in Galveston.

Frank, listen,
we have an opportunity here to make

a picture that's saying something

about the rivalry and greed that
civilized the American West.

It's saying nothing but
tits and fistfights

and me looking like a real cool daddy.

Come on! Okay, okay.

I'm not gonna argue with you.

Let's go back to, uh, um,
"You don't leave me much choice."

Got it.

Okay, let's roll.

Rolling.

And... action.

How can I concentrate

with this beluga whale
belching next to me?

Oh, that's... it's a character choice,

Mr. Sinatra. Who asked you?! Huh?

Okay, come on, come on.

Let's concentrate. Let's go again.

We're still rolling. Come on.

Okay, going again. And... action.

"You don't leave me much choice."
I know the line,

you stupid bitch! ROBERT: All right,
all right, that's out of bounds.

Out of bounds?!

Who the f*ck do you think you are,
out of bounds?!

You're nobody.

I ought to have you
decapitated and buried

in the f*cking desert,
you sweaty, four-eyed ape.

They won't even mark
your grave with an "X."

And no one'll notice you're gone!

And that's lunch!

One hour!

Warner wants to see you.

Yeah, why does that sound like a relief?

Here. Sinatra's changes.

Just put them in some kind of order.

I'm sorry, honey. You okay?

Yeah.

Couch.

Don't be nervous, Bob.

I asked you here

because...

I didn't like the way we
left things last time.

I wanted to apologize

for my harsh and insulting language.

I'm sorry.

I was hurt, I felt rejected,

and I lashed out.

It's all right.

No. It's not.

Just because I made Bob Aldrich

doesn't mean that he has
to obey my every command.

You're not a poodle.

Are you, Bob?

You're your own man.

Well, thanks for that. I appreciate it.

Well, I hope we can still be friends.

Yeah, sure. Why not?

So...

I hear the Sinatra
dailies are unwatchable.

Uh, we'll get there.

Yeah?

I also hear that he's treating you

like a halfwit toilet attendant.

Well, I wouldn't say we've, uh,

we've hit a groove of mutual respect.

Come on, Bobby.

You can't hide from old Jack.

I can hear it in your voice.

Your sphincter's clenching up.

Which is exactly what I
told you would happen.

I know you're getting

some kind of grim
satisfaction out of this,

but I slaved over that script.

I slaved over it.

And this...

suntanned man-child is mutilating it.

Yeah. Yeah.

No, I've-I've heard. I've heard.

What's this?

That's a gift for my good friend Bob.

Fresh, un-mutilated properties.

Further tales of old hags.

No, no, no. Now, listen.

Pick one, bring it to Bette.

As a bonus, I will release

your dog-sh*t Sinatra Western.

Who else would do that for you?

All right, come on.

Run along, now. I got writing to do.

I'm working on my autobiography.

What do you think I should call it?

I'm thinking of Life of a Showman.

Yeah, that's great. Mm-hmm.
That's good, right? Yeah.

Oh, also, good luck on Monday.

I mean, in general, for Baby Jane.

It's sure to pick up a few nods,
but I want you to be prepared

for the possibility that
you'll be left out.

But don't take it personally.

You're just not the type that
your peer group acknowledges.

I'll see you later.

Can I ask you something, Jack?

Yes, of course.

Be straight with me.

Never any other way, Bob.

Do you think I have the
potential for greatness?

No.

Honey, get Frank.

He took a jet to New York, Pop.

What?

H-He said to sh**t around him.

What is this, Bob?

Sinatra's notes, which I invite you

to stuff into a Molotov cocktail.

No, this was my script.

I worked on this for months,

and you used it for scrap paper.

You even read it?

Well, I-I needed something to write on,
Pauline.

It's not like I tossed it out.

No, you just told me to "stuff
it into a Molotov cocktail."

Pauline!

I'm drowning here. I'm underwater.

And you're asking me to
move a mountain for you.

Even if you didn't pick the
shittiest time possible,

I'm not a miracle worker.

No one is gonna let a
woman direct a picture.

You're in fantasyland.

Now, if you want to come
back to the real world

and keep working for me as my assistant,
good.

If not, take a walk.

Because I don't have time or energy

to coddle a middle-aged
boy singer and you, too!

One slice each...

apple, pecan and whipped cream.

With two Pepsi-Colas.

Well, no time like the
present to develop diabetes.

Miss Joan forbids sweets.

She says sugar is a dangerous food.

I take my thrills where I can.

Bring the bill to me.

You don't have to treat, Mamacita.

I don't need consolation.

My mother wasted her entire life
bringing us pot roasts on trays

and ironing my father's boxer shorts.

Not that there's anything
wrong with domestic work.

I only mean that... Joan is right.

I've got a good thing going with Bob.

I can't throw it away on a pipe dream.

I've got to live in the real world.

But the real world is changing.

Mornings when Miss Joan has a hangover,

I take the twins to the library.

I'm a new citizen.

I learn about my country
in the Reference Room.

I read the Almanac, the Atlas,

the Census Report.

You didn't tear these out
of a library book, did you?

This is the United States sex ratio.

Look here. In 1910,
there are how many more men than women?



In 1940?

Zero-point-five.

And now we outnumber them
by more than one million.

Mm-hmm. Should someone tell the
men they're going extinct?

Not extinct.

Minority. Men were first to immigrate.

On frontier, only men, like bathhouse.

That explains big 1910 number.

However,

men have shorter lives,
because they are less strong.

And many die in w*r.

That explains the decline.

Census projections.

By 1970, there will be six
million more women than men.



Do you know what this means?

A lot of lonely gals.

Studios will have obligations

to make half of stories about women,

by women, for women.

It only makes economic sense.

Keep your head up.

Your day is coming.

Mamacita.

You're a real big-picture thinker.

Mamacita?

Hmm.

Miss Joan. Oh.

Oh, you startled me, Mamacita.

What's going on?
I asked you to wake me at 5:30.

They're announcing the
Oscar nominations today.

Miss Joan.

I want you to sit down.