Feud (2017–…): Season 1, Episode 1 - Pilot - full transcript

There was
never a rivalry like theirs.

For nearly half a century,
they hated each other,

and we loved them for it.

You know, Joan's real
name was Lucille LeSueur.

The poor thing, she was
raised in utter squalor.

I mean literally.

Scrubbed toilets before
coming to Hollywood.

At the peak of the Depression...

that's when I first started out...

she was the woman every man wanted
and every woman wanted to be.

Many think of her



as the greatest star of all time.

Now, my dear friend Bette...

well, she, quite frankly,

was the greatest actress
Hollywood had ever known.

During the war, she played all the best
roles, and she played them with a...

I-I don't know how to say this,

but with a ballsy intensity that none of
us, actor or actress, would have dared.

You know, they only
made one film together.

And how that happened
and what happened afterwards, well...

well, that was a story and a feud

of biblical proportions.

What was behind their feud?

Why did they hate each other so much?

Feuds are never about hate.



Feuds are about pain.

They're about pain.

Please welcome to
the stage, tonight's winner,

Miss Marilyn Monroe!

I've got great tits, too,

but I don't throw them
in everyone's face.

All right, darling.

Gee.

Gosh, I just sure didn't expect this.

You know, I always said
that, if I was the star,

it was because the people
made me a star, and...

You know, when I was a girl,

I used to look out into the
Hollywood sky and think,

"Gosh, I just want to be
a movie star," you know?

And now I'm part of you.
So, thank you so much.

Gosh, I should try to
thank some people, huh?

I'm just so bad at remembering names.

Hedda Hopper for Joan.

Miss Crawford is occupied.

She's had enough time to sleep it off.

Announce me.

Is there anything we can
do about these lines?

I'm afraid I'm gonna be served
for Thanksgiving dinner.

The best you can do for this?
High collars.

Turtle neck for turkey neck.

Christ, Nonah, can't
you give me some hope?

Ugh. You know how it is.

Men age, they get character.

Women age, they get lost.

What?

I'm sorry, Miss Joan.

Hedda Hopper's downstairs.

Oh, Jesus.

Hedda.

You know I never receive unscheduled
guests, not even my children.

But here you are.

Well, you ran out of the Globes last
night before I could get a quote.

Did I?

Mamacita? Coffee.

Well, it was a marvelous event.

I do so appreciate the foreign press.

They've been so very kind to me.

I didn't come here for
the boilerplate, Joan.

From what I hear, you stumbled
out of there in a drunken fit.

- I'm gonna go back inside.
- Baby...

Well, you know how those
award dinners can be.

Stop it!

I must've eaten something
that disagreed with me.

Crow?

Had to have been pretty galling,

watching the foreign press fawn
all over Monroe like that.

Hedda, you know, when I'm
out in public events like that,

I only drink Pepsi-Cola.

I am the brand ambassador.

I don't know why you keep plugging
that shitty sugar water.

Word is, since Al died, the board
isn't paying your bills anymore,

and you're having to sell your custom
Billy Haines furniture piece by piece

just to keep the lights on.

You wouldn't print those lies.

Got to print something.

All right.

Then print this:

Joan Crawford, after mourning

the passing of her husband, the beloved

Alfred Steele,

is ready to get back to work.

Oh, come on, Joan.

Give me a quote.

You know my readers would be fascinated

with hearing the thoughts of
yesterday's it girl about today's.

There can only be room for one it girl.

Is that right?

Well, men built the
pedestal, darling, not me.

There's only room for
one goddess at a time.

Well, men may have built the pedestal,

but it's the women who
keep chipping away at it

until it comes tumbling down.

So what's it gonna be, honey?

A quote on Monroe, or am I gonna
have to write about how a valet

saw you stumble into a Cadillac?

All right.

Good.

I think that Marilyn Monroe and the
vulgarity of her clothing and pictures

is ruining this great
industry that I love.

People don't want to see stars
like Monroe in pictures.

They want their stars to be
wholesome, with good morals.

Like me.

That's not the only difference
between you and her.

She's getting roles.

What's this about?

This, my friend,

is the Academy Award for
Best Actress I won in 1945

for Mildred Pierce.

And I would like another one.

And do you know what I need,
Marty, to make that happen?

A great script.

I want to work now that Al's dead.

I want to work, Marty.

I need to work.

I sent you a great script
four months ago, Joan.

- You did it, and you were wonderful in it.
- No.

It was a pilot.

I had to do my own makeup,
and it wasn't even picked up to series.

Joan, how about this,
let me read everything that's out there,

send over the highlights.

You go through the pile
and find something that excites you.

Joanie!

I can't play Elvis' grandmother.

I won't do it.

Maybe you better send
me some other scripts.

That's all I have, Joan.

That's all they're making.

Marty,

I am an actress, I want to act.

I'm at the top of my game right now.

Then you need to find a project yourself,
'cause the roles just aren't out there.

May I help you?

I need books.

Was there a particular title
you were interested in?

Anything with ladies on the cover.

Oh, Mamacita. Good.

That's all they had.

I could try Encino next.

Unless you found something you like.

Everything written for women seem
to fall into just three categories:

ingenues, mothers, or gorgons.

So where does that leave you?

We'll find something.

No, no, Mamacita, nothing Sapphic.

I ran into the gardeners outside.

They want to know when they'll get paid.

We owe them two months.

What did you tell them?

That it was an honor to
prune Miss Crawford's bush

and to shut up.

These are lean times, Mamacita,
but we'll get through them.

This one is about a baby.

Which pile, "mothers"?

And action!

Cut! Cut! Plywood.

You get them plywood in there...

Plywood. Plywood.
Plywood.

Dad, you're needed in the
control center, pronto.

Plywood. Plywood!

If I make another sandal saga,
put a bullet in my head.

Eva Braun's on the horn.

I told her you're busy, but
she keeps calling back.

Gretchen, my love.

How's my little strudel?

What? No, no, you can't
come down here today.

Why? Because my kids are working
on the set, that's why.

What if word got back to my wife?

Yeah.

I'll call you back.

Christ.

She wants to be in the movie now.

Well, that's because she
knows the only time

you really pay attention to a woman is
when she's in front of your camera.

This movie we're making, Pauline,
it is a piece of crap.

Hey, what about that espionage script?

Oh, no, stinko.

I know who did it on page three.

But... this one...

This one has potential.

Horror/thriller, two broads,
former movie stars.

A cripple and her crazy sister
battling it out in their Hollywood home.

A horror picture?

Hitch just did it with Psycho.

Still raking it in.

But even better, Baby Jane has one set.

It's a very small cast.
You can have final cut.

You can produce this yourself.

Face it, Bob, Ben-Hur
has already been done.

Where'd you get this?

Oh, it came by messenger,
special delivery.

Along with this.

Miss Crawford?

Yes?

Special delivery.

She's expecting you.

She's expecting you on the patio.

Joanie.

Bob.

Tea?
If we're gonna talk business,

I'm gonna need a real drink.

Sally, dear, will you go in the house
and see if Mamacita needs any help?

One of your fans?

Well, if they're going to hang around
all day, I'm going to put them to work.

So, are we gonna make this picture?

If you can satisfy my demands.

Can anybody, Joanie?

We did pretty well the last time.

Autumn Leaves made millions.

It would have made a million more

if you'd gotten off your goddamn high
horse and let me mess you up a little.

It would have made $2 million
more if you'd gotten me Brando.

Now, you listen to me on this picture.

I'll get you the perfect costar.

Who do you have in mind?

I didn't know the patrona
had turned to a widow,

a sort of bright widow spider.

Cocktails, anybody?

No, thank you, Mrs. Faulk.

I don't believe we'll have any.

They don't serve cocktails between
the fish and the entree, Maxine, honey.

Mercilessly accurate,
Mr. Shannon.

But when I asked you for one,

you offered it to me without
a sign of reluctance.

Aren't you making a large point
out of a small matter?

Just the opposite, honey.

I'm making a small point
out of a very large matter.

Where'd you learn how to
light a match in the wind?

Oh, I've learned lots of useful
little things along the way.

I only wish I'd learned some big ones.

Such as what?
How to help you, Mr. Shannon.

Now I know why I've come here.

So you can meet
someone who knows how

to light a match in the wind?

What?!

There's a lady here to see you.

Who is it?

Joan Crawford.

You're fucking kidding me.

Bette.

Lucille, what the hell
brings you to the theater?

Well, you, of course.

Oh, you were wonderful tonight.

You lit up the stage.

I can't believe you didn't
get better reviews.

New York critics, they don't
like us Hollywood people

coming in, taking over their town.

I say screw 'em.

Make it quick, Lucille, I've got a car
waiting to take me to the country.

Guess what, Bette.

I have finally found the perfect project
for the two of us.

It's always been my
dream to work with you.

Do you remember how I begged Jack Warner
to put us together in Ethan Frome?

With Mr. Gary Cooper.

You do remember.

You wanted to play the
pretty young servant girl,

and I was to play the old hag of a wife.

Forget it.

But this is different.

These are the parts of a lifetime.

No, thanks, Lucille.

I've got plenty of better offers.

Bullshit.

I know what kind of offers
you've been getting.

Exactly none, because the
same is true for me.

They're not making women's
pictures anymore.

Not the kind we used to make.

It's all cyclical.

They'll come back in fashion.

But we won't.

If something's going to happen,

we have to make it happen.

No one's looking to cast women our age.

But together,
they wouldn't dare say no.

We need each other, Bette.

So what the hell happened
to her anyway, Baby Jane?

Read it. Find out.

Oh, I-I'm offering you the title role.

The lead?

You can call it that.

Thank you.

Did you fuck

Joan Crawford?
No, I did not fuck her.

Not that I didn't have
ample opportunity.

We all know what special relationship
Joan has with her directors.

Oh, come on, Bette.

William Wyler?

Oh, I see someone has been a good
little boy and done all his homework.

Bette, listen, here's the deal.

Crawford's name on the marquee
gets us distribution.

I need her to get the picture made, but
I need you to make the picture great.

Keep talking.

Bette, listen, I've made my share
of steaming piles of shit,

but every now and again I get a chance
to work with an artist like you.

Someone who isn't afraid
to leap off a cliff.

Most people are terrified to
go anywhere near the edge.

Now, that gets me excited.

I-I'm a kid again.
Everything's possible.

Bette, I promise you this is gonna be
the greatest horror movie ever made.

And Baby Jane's the greatest part
you'll play since Margo Channing.

All right, answer this question,
and don't lie...

why this picture?

Honestly?

I'm not being offered anything else.

You're too big for Broadway, Bette.

Come back to Hollywood,
where you belong.

I'll get back to you, Bob.

It's a socko
script, Bob, just socko.

We ran the numbers and it
looks doable, very doable.

Fantastic.

We feel like Crawford and Davis
may be a little long in the tooth.

Why don't we go just a
little bit younger?

How about Hepburn in the Blanche role?

Well, Katherine Hepburn's
the same age as Davis.

I think she's a year older.

Audrey Hepburn and Doris
Day as Baby Jane.

Are you kidding?

We love Davis and Crawford for this.
Oh, that's terrific.

Now, the character of
the sexy neighbor girl,

have you thought about that?
Not really.

I-It's a small part.
Yeah. Let's beef that up.

In fact, we want to tell the
story from her point of view.

You know, like Hitchcock
did with Rear Window.

It's not really a story
about a sexy neighbor girl.

We want to make it about her.

We've been looking for
something for Natalie Wood.

It's
not gonna work here, Bob.

No, I-I won't take no for an answer, Ed.

These two women are legends.

They've got millions of
fans across the globe

who would pay good money
just for the chance

to see them together on-screen.

I agree, but it's not Davis and
Crawford we don't want, it's you, Bob.

They're just not willing
to get into bed with you.

Not after Sodom.
No offense.

Bromo.

Would you fuck 'em?

I don't know.

It's a very
simple question, Bobby.

Would you give either of those
broads a toss in the hay?

Would you fuck 'em?

Yes.

What?

Bullshit.

It's a no, Bobby.

Sorry.

So every other studio passed
on this project, huh?

And you come to me as the last resort?

I find that disrespectful.

No. Not last, Jack... inevitable.

It's kismet that we make the movie here.

Warner Brothers is the
studio where both Davis

and Crawford worked when they
were still under contract.

I-It'll be like a homecoming.

You know, I can see the headlines.

They're still big stars.

Big has-beens, you mean.

All right, that's good.
That's enough, that's good.

And big pains in my ass.

Both those women made my life a
living hell when they worked for me,

because they thought
that I worked for them.

Ooh.

More perks, more perks, more perks.

And always questioning the material
that I wanted them to do, always.

Oh, come on, Jack.
No. It's true.

And you know what the worst part is?

The ingratitude.

I created goddesses, Bobby.

I created goddesses.

I was Zeus and they were
a couple of Aphrodites.

But you know what happens to Aphrodite

when her tits start to sag
and her pictures start losing money?

Or Venus, who should just look
pretty and keep her mouth shut,

and she starts having an
opinion about everything...

you know what happens to her?

Zeus picks up a lightning bolt

and he hurls it right at her
head and he splits it open.

That's what happens.

I need a lunch thing.

And my clothing.

You've got a pretty short
goddamn memory, Bobby.

What does that mean?

That bitch Davis sued me in 1936
to get out of her contract.

She literally sued me.

Bobby, I was so upset about that, that I
got an ulcer and hemorrhoids from it.

I still have them.
I'll show them to you.

And you know what else?

I won that suit, I won it.

And she was ordered to come
back to work for me...

She just wanted better parts, Jack.

A say in her own destiny.

Yeah, okay, fine.

But because of her selfishness
and her bullheadedness,

the entire studio contract
system came crashing down!

The whole thing because of her!

She's the one who put
the crack in the levee,

and you want me to work with her again?

Are you fucking crazy?!

Never!

Never again.

Never. That cunt!

Her unemployment is my
long simmering revenge.

You're gonna make my picture, Jack.

I'm s-sorry?

You need it.

Television is kicking your ass.

Oh...
And the movies you're making,

they're all bombs.

Crowded Sky? Bomb.
Bad title.

Fever in the Blood,
you couldn't even give tickets away.

And you know why? You got no stars.

I got stars.

I got a great script that I wrote
myself, a script I believe in.

And I've got a genre

television isn't doing, Jack... horror.

Hmm.

No.

We got most of our
financing from Seven Arts.

Yeah. Seven Arts, yeah, yeah.

I just need you to release the
picture in your theaters.

You'll be the single largest
profit participant.

Yeah.

I'll pay you first.

Miss Davis,

how do you feel about Baby Jane Hudson?

We hear she's pretty mean.

She's full of venom and
doesn't mince words.

We have nothing in common.

Which is wonderful for me, Jimmy.

Usually, I play the bitch, but this time,
I can sit back and watch Bette do it.

I told you, together they're an event.

I can't believe I let
you talk me into this.

How about signing
some contracts, ladies?

Who do you think's gonna
grab the chair on the left?

What do you mean?

Whoever gets there
first gets top billing

right underneath the caption
in tomorrow's paper.

Why, thank you, Lucille.

How about one with the two of you
signing your contracts?

Oh, man, that's great.

And one more.

Get the car, Mamacita.

Joan, you didn't
sign the contract.

You know, I expected more
from you, Bob, I truly did,

though why I don't know.

Starting with my no-good father, who ran
off with a stripper from Galveston,

to Louis B. Mayer, I have been lied to
and cheated on by men my entire life.

I don't know why you
should be any different.

What are you talking about, Joan?

She's getting 600 more dollars a week
in expenses than I am.

Now, I cannot go into this project
feeling resentment for my costar.

Not after it was my idea
to throw this party in the first place.

I bet you never treated
Kirk Douglas like this,

did you, on The Last Sunset?

It's an oversight, Joan.
I'll take care of it.

I promise.

You understand, don't you, Bob?

It's not about the money.

It's about trust.

Of course.

I want $1,500.

The 1950s and early '60s
were tough times for all us mature gals.

The studio system was
dying out big time,

and the only women who
were getting hired were...

well, they had big
chests and small brains.

Say, is this documentary gonna be
about all of us or just Joanie?

Is it like That's Entertainment?

Um, I'm not sure.

Well, honey, I'm sure both people
who see it are gonna love it.

Can somebody get this girl a drink here?

Thanks, honey.
Well, what were we talking about?

How tough it was
for women in the '50s.

Right. But not for Joan.

Wow.

She was really something.

She barreled through that
decade like a freight train.

Thanks.

Hmm.

Who cares if her costars were
getting younger and younger?

She was still Joan.

Still ambitious as hell.

And making hits till she got
the best offer of her career:

A proposal from a widower, Al
Steele, CEO of Pepsi-Cola,

and one of the wealthiest
men in the country.

With all that money, after 40
years of working her ass off,

and sweating over every goddamn dime,

she could finally exhale
and live the high life.

Al, you may kiss the bride.

Come to Momma.

Oh, yeah!

Bette...

well, she was a different story.

After All About Eve, she
was on top of the world.

And she thought she'd
be swamped by offers,

but her biggest comeback turned
into her biggest letdown.

So Bette decided to throw
herself into the one role

she'd never gotten
right: wife and mother.

She married her All About
Eve costar, Gary Merrill.

Bette was, to say the least...

miscast.

Hello, wife.

Make yourself useful for once.

So I've been reading
about you and Crawford.

Start shooting next week?

Day five I get to kick
her right in the head.

I can't wait.

So what brings you
crawling back to Hollywood?

Another guest shot on Wagon Train?

Twilight Zone, actually.

Oh. Well, that should be easy for you.

Our whole marriage was a Twilight Zone.

You went to bed with Margo Channing
and you woke up with me.

So why did we stop
living together again?

You wanted me to starch your shirts
and greet you at the door

with a martini in hand and ask,

"How did your day at work go, darling?"
Mm.

I'm the one that needed a wife.

I brought you something.

You've wanted it for a long time.

Here it is.

It's all there.

I gave you everything...
houses, kids, bank accounts,

even the broken china.
You goddamned prick!

Oh, admit it. You don't want me,
but you can't stand the idea of me being

with anybody else.
Who would have you,

you broken-down has-been?
You viper.

You drunk.
Takes one to know one.

You know why
they really broke up?

Well, it wasn't his performance in bed.

It was his performance onstage.

God, was Gary a stiff.

Just when Bette realized her
marriage was about to close,

she took it on the road.

"Let the lights of Broadway
spangle and splatter... and the taxis

"hustle the crowds away
when the show is over.

"Let the lights of Broadway spangle.
The girls wash off

"the paint and go for their
midnight sandwiches...

"let 'em dream in the morning
sun, late in the morning,

"long after the morning papers,

and dream as long as they
want to in June somewhere..."

You know, she
fired him from the tour.

Her own husband. And replaced
him the very next day

with Barry Sullivan.

When Bette had to choose,

she always picked the
professional over the private.

She actually claimed
she coined the term "Oscar."

Can you believe that?

Back when she nabbed the award
for Dangerous in '35,

she told the press that
its posterior reminded her

of her first husband's ass.

His middle name was Oscar.

No one ever called him that.

It was just
more of her bullshit.

His name was Harmon.
Everyone called him Ham.

Joanie,
do you have to keep doing that?

What? It keeps my elbows supple.

I wasn't talking about that.
Do you realize from the time

we got in the car tonight,
all through dinner, and now

all you've done is complain
about Bette Davis?

Oh, that is not true.

It is. And I'll be honest,
I don't understand it.

You two have so much in common.
More than any two other people

on the planet. Why can't
you just get along?

Oh, don't you think I've tried?

Back when she won that Oscar,
I was the first person

to send a congratulatory
note and a bouquet.

And you know that I never heard back.

Not a word. Radio silence.

And this after she tried
to screw my boyfriend.

Franchot was her costar in
that picture, you know.

Yes, you mentioned it at dinner.

She knew he was mine. That's why
she tried to take him away.

But he rejected her advances, of course.

Told me everything.

So then I married him,
out of spite.

Do you realize that Bette
Davis is responsible

for one of my failed marriages?

Personally responsible.

And yet you still wanted her
to do this picture with you.

I think it's because you
two survived all that

and you realize that you
really should be friends.

Friends?

You think it's friendship
I want from her?

Is that what you think?

You're wrong. It's respect.

It's the only thing I have
ever wanted from her.

Or any of them, for that matter.

And it's the one thing
I've never gotten.

It took me until Mildred Pierce

to be taken seriously as an actress.

And when I won my Oscar, do you think
I received any congratulatory notes

or bouquets?
No.

Mm. But I did.

From men.

Men whose admiration I already had
and whose respect I never craved.

But not the women.

None of the bitches in this town.

Least of all Queen Bitch, who always
thought she was better than me,

more talented than me.

You admire her.

I admire her talent

and her craft.

And I will have her respect.

Even if I have to kill
both of us to get it.

Keep practicing.

Could be faster.

Billy. Billy.

Billy, how is that new baby?

Fred! Oh, looks like
you've lost some weight.

Pablo. Mother not so good.

Pablo, how is your mother, dear?

Dave.

Miss Crawford.

How lovely to see you again
after all these years.

It's small.

And dirty.

Okay, Mamacita, let's go to work.

Christ, she's at it again.

Sucking up to the goddamn crew
so she gets better lighting and props.

Maybe she's just being nice, Mother.

Before noon, Lucille?

Got enough for two?

To us.

Together at last.

At last.

Nervous?

Terrified.

I haven't done a film in...

Three years, Joan.

You haven't worked in three years.

You know,
when I drove on the lot this morning,

saw the crew bustling about, sets
being built, the smell of sawdust...

It's magic what we do, isn't it?

All right,
let's cut through the bullshit.

I don't like you, you don't like me.

But we need this picture to work.

Both of us. All I ask is that you do
your best work. Try.

Because when you're good, Joan,
goddamn it, you're good.

Do you really think so?

Oh, Christ, you're not going to cry.

Yes, I really think so.

I've always thought so.

Oh, one last thing.

Lose the shoulder pads.

I beg your pardon?

And cut back on the lipstick.

You're playing a recluse who hasn't seen
the sun for 20 years, for Christ's sake.

You have a perfect face for
the movies, Miss Crawford.

There are no bad angles.

Thank you, Jimmy.

Look, just give me a
chance to talk to her.

We can work this out...

Are you talking about me?

No.

Yeah. I'm just offering some ideas.

Don't tell me how to play my character
before I've even shot a scene.

I have done a lot of hard
work and preparation,

and you are just trying to throw me.

I'm trying to help you.

You want me to look bad,
but I won't do it.

My fans show up to a Joan Crawford
picture expecting to see Joan Crawford.

This is not a Joan Crawford picture.

Mr. Aldrich, will you please escort
Miss Davis back to her dressing room

so she can work on her character?

Or shall I get out of this
wheelchair and walk off the set?

I'll handle it. Bette, please.

Did you see her?

She's ridiculous, Bob. She's got falsies
on under there.

Bette,
it's the first day, okay?

May I remind you I took out a
second mortgage on my house

to make this picture? So don't
look at me as if I don't care.

I've got to handle her very carefully.
She's nervous.

And we got a lot of work to do today.

We haven't even decided
on your look yet,

and your first scene is
straight up after lunch.

I've got to get that right.

Fine. Handle it.

Scene 11, take one.

Joan?

Joan, now, in this scene,

Blanche is looking at one of
her early pictures on TV.

There's your mark right there.

Okay.

Ready?

Yeah.

Camera's rolling.

And action.

Everything.

We were gonna be married.

This girl, Dolly Merrick.

Oh, Jack, please try to understand.

I married you because I was...

We should've held that
shot a little longer.

I told him that when we were
rehearsing, also when we shot it.

But he wouldn't listen.

I can't think of anything else.

Still...

it's a pretty good picture.

Cut.

That's great work, Joan.

Yeah?

Oh, yeah.

Let's do another one, Bob.

Right away.

I'm just getting warmed up.

These are wrong.
I want her to look demented.

This one.

Wigs.

Funny fact for you, Bette.

Joan wore this one in some
early 1930s MGM melodrama.

And from the looks of it, it
hasn't been touched since.

Clara Bow beauty mark.

Mm.

My God, Mother, is that how
you really want to look?

Just wait.

Now, I just think there are too
many words in this section, Bob.

God, I miss the silent pictures.

Christ! She can't be serious.

Hello, Daddy.

All right, all right!

Everybody back to work! Back to work.

Action.
Blanche,

you aren't ever gonna sell this house.

And you aren't ever gonna leave it...
either.

And... action.

Blanche,

you aren't ever gonna sell this house.

And you aren't ever gonna leave it.

Bob,
isn't that lighting unnecessarily harsh?

Oh, we haven't balanced the
footage yet, Joan. Don't worry.

Don't worry about it.

Blanche,

you aren't ever gonna sell this house.

And you aren't ever gonna leave it...

either.

Cut.

And action.

Welcome to the house that fear built.

Come on in.

Just the two of us?
The three of us.

Oh, didn't I specify
that in my invitation?

I suppose you expected one of
my legendary dinner parties.

No, Gloria and Jimmy Stewart and
the Fondas are on Wednesday.

Tonight it's just us gals.

Sit down, please. The sofa's comfy.

Can I get you ladies something to drink?

Scotch.

Just a glass.

I take it that's not Pepsi-Cola.

Vodka. 100 proof.

I say if you're going to drink,
drink something you like.

I'll be right back.

Dining room's through there.

I hope you gals brought your appetites.

It's an ambush.

She's out for blood.

You gonna give it to her?

Are you?

Fish Jell-O.

Goody.
No, it's aspic, darling.

It's all the rage.

I thought it'd be the perfect dish
for our little tete-a-trois.

Something substantial,
but transparent.

All right, ladies.

You know what I need, and you
know what the fans want.

So feel free to let 'er rip.

So, who gets top billing?

Oh, Bette, of course. I mean, she plays
the title role. It only makes sense.

Both roles are tremendously important.

You know, Hedda, I have been wanting
to work with Bette since 1944,

when I first went to Warner Brothers.

And when I found What Ever
Happened to Baby Jane?,

I sent it to Bob Aldrich and told him

in no uncertain terms that this
was for Bette and me only.

I was thrilled. Think of
it, Joan Crawford was

a big star when I arrived
fresh off the boat.

Such a lovely thing to say.

Fascinating.

Ah.

Oh, how lovely.

What are you serving for dessert?
We're skipping dessert.

I'm already getting diabetes.

Dateline: Los Angeles.

Stars of the night sky tend
to keep to fixed orbits

and never interfere with one another.

Things sometimes operate
that way in Hollywood, too.

Bette Davis and Joan Crawford,
stars of equal magnitude

who ruled in motion pictures
during the fabulous '30s,

never got to know one another.

Now, in the Indian
summer of their careers,

they're about to.