All language subtitles for FEUD.S01E01.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DD5.1.H.264-CasStudio

*

*

(seagulls chirping,
waves crashing)

(bell rings)

(indistinct conversations)

OLIVIA de HAVILLAND: 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.

ANNOUNCER: Please welcome
to the stage, tonight's winner,

Miss Marilyn Monroe!

(sweeping orchestra music plays,
cheering and applause)

I've got great tits, too,

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

All right, darling.

MARILYN (giggles):
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?

(chuckles)

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.

(car door closes)

(doorbell rings)

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.

(knocks on door)
What?

I'm sorry, Miss Joan.

Hedda Hopper's
downstairs.

(quietly):
Oh, Jesus.

Hedda.
(chuckles)

You know I never receive
unscheduled guests,

not even my children.

(both chuckle)
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.

JOAN:
I'm gonna go back inside.
MAN: Baby...

Well, you know how those
award dinners can be.

Stop it!

I must've eaten something
that disagreed with me.

Crow?

(grunts)

HEDDA: Had to have been
pretty galling,

watching the foreign press
fawn all over Monroe like that.

JOAN: 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.

(chuckles)
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.

*

MARTY:
Joanie!

JOAN:
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.

(door opens)

(sighs)

(door closes)

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:

ingénues, 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.

(sighs)

These are lean times, Mamacita,

but we'll get through them.

This one is about a baby.

Which pile, "mothers"?

(sighs)

(soundstage bell rings)

ROBERT ALDRICH:
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.

(sighs):
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.

BOY: Miss Crawford?

Yes?

Special delivery.

("Autumn Leaves"
by Nat King Cole playing)

(engine starts)

(car door closes, car departs)

* The falling leaves *

* Drift by the window *

She's expecting you.

* The autumn leaves *

* Of red and gold *

She's expecting you
on the patio.

* I see your lips *

* The summer kisses *

* The sunburned hands *

* I used to hold *

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.

* Most of all, my darling *

So, are we gonna
make this picture?

* Start to fall *

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?

* Start to fall. *

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

a sort of bright
widow spider.

(applause)

Cocktails, anybody?

(laughter)

No, thank you,
Mrs. Faulk.

I don't believe
we'll have any.

MAN: They don't
serve cocktails

between the fish
and the entree, Maxine, honey.

WOMAN: Mercilessly accurate,
Mr. Shannon.

MAN:
But when I asked you for one,

you offered it to me
without a sign of reluctance.

WOMAN:
Aren't you making a large point

out of a small matter?

MAN: 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?

WOMAN:
Oh, I've learned lots of useful

little things along the way.

I only wish I'd
learned some big ones.

MAN:
Such as what?

WOMAN: How to help you,
Mr. Shannon.

MAN: Now I know why
I've come here.

WOMAN: So you can meet someone
who knows how

to light a match in the wind?

(applause)

*

(knocking)
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.

(chuckles):
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.

* In the evening *

* In the evening, people *

* When the sun goes down *

* Don't your heart feel
mighty empty? *

Thank you.

* When your baby's not around *

B.D.

*

* If I could holler *

* Just like a mountain jack *

* Then I would go
way up on the mountain *

* And call my baby back *

* In the e... *

* Evening... *

* In the evening *

* When the sun goes down *
(telephone rings)

(receiver picks up)
BETTE:
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.

(chuckles)

You're too big
for Broadway, Bette.

Come back to Hollywood,
where you belong.

I'll get back to you, Bob.

(rain falling outside)

(thunder rumbles)

*

(indistinct conversations)

STUDIO EXECUTIVE:
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.

STUDIO EXECUTIVE 2:
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.

STUDIO EXECUTIVE 3:
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.

(chuckles) It's a very
simple question, Bobby.

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

* Catch a falling star... *
Would you fuck 'em?

(laughs)
Yes.

What?

(chuckling):
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.

(spanks)
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!

* Save it for a rainy day *

* Save it
for a rainy day *

Her unemployment
is my long-simmering revenge.

* Save it for a rainy day *

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.

(camera shutters clicking)

(photographers clamoring)

REPORTER:
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.

JOAN:
Which is wonderful
for me, Jimmy.

Usually, I play the bitch,
but this time,

I can sit back
and watch Bette do it.

(laughter)

I told you, together
they're an event.

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

(Warner sighs)
PHOTOGRAPHER: 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.

*

PHOTOGRAPHER:
And one more.

Get the car, Mamacita.

ROBERT: Joan, you didn't
sign the contract.

JOAN: 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.

JOAN BLONDELL:
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.

(laughs)

Say, is this documentary
gonna be about

all of us or just Joanie?

Is it like
That's Entertainment?

ADAM:
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?

ADAM:
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.

(giggles)
Come to Mama.

Oh, yeah!

BLONDELL:
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.

(door opening)

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.

(sighs)
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.

(both laughing)

BLONDELL: 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.

GARY: "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..."

BLONDELL: You know,
she fired him from the tour.

Her own husband. And replaced
him the very next day

with Barry Sullivan.

*

* I... *

* Love all *

* The many charms about you *

* Above all *

* I want my arms *

* About you *

* Naughty, naughty baby *

* Come to mama *

* Come to mama do... *

When Bette had to choose,

she always picked the
professional over the private.

JOAN: 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.

(scoffs) 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.

(exhales)

(chuckles)

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.

*

(alarm ringing)

(sighs)

Keep practicing.

Could be faster.

(indistinct conversations)

(indistinct conversations)

(quietly):
Billy. Billy.

Billy, how is
that new baby?

(chuckles)

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

Pablo.
Mother not so good.

Pablo, how is your mother, dear?

Dave.

(chuckles)
Miss Crawford.

How lovely to see you again
after all these years.

(chuckles)

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.

(exhales)

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.

(laughs)

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.

(Aldrich and Bette
arguing indistinctly)

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.

BETTE:
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.

(bell rings)

(man coughs)

Scene 11, take one.

(sighs)

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.

(whirring)

And action.

(woman on TV):
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.

(camera whirring)

Cut.

(chuckles)

That's great work, Joan.

Yeah?

Oh, yeah.
(chuckles)

Let's do another one, Bob.

Right away.

I'm just getting warmed up.

(exhales)

(whirring)

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.

(chuckles)

(chuckles)
Mm.

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

Just wait.

No, I just think there are

too many words
in this section, Bob.

God, I miss
the silent pictures.

(footsteps approaching)

(whistles)

*

Christ!
She can't be serious.

*

Hello, Daddy.

(applause)

All right, all right!

Everybody back to work!
Back to work.

(whirring)

(door opens)

(beep)

ROBERT: Action.
BETTE: Blanche,

you aren't ever gonna
sell this house.

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

either.

(beep)

ROBERT:
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.

ROBERT:
Cut.

(sniffles)

(beep)

(clapperboard claps)

ROBERT:
And action.

(sobbing)

(beep)

*

* Hey, little girl *

* Comb your hair,
fix your makeup *

* Soon he will open the door *

* Don't think because *

* There's a ring
on your finger *

* You needn't try anymore *

* For wives *

* Should always be lovers, too *

Welcome to the house
that fear built.

Come on in.

* He comes home to you *

* I'm warning you *

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.

* You may not see him again *

*

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.

* Ready *

It's an ambush.

She's out for blood.

You gonna give it to her?

Are you?

BETTE:
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 tête-à-trois.

Something substantial,

but transparent.

* So alone *

All right, ladies.

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

So feel free to let 'er rip.

* Alone *

* Watching lovers passing by *

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.

* I want to be wanted *

* I want someone *

Ah.

Oh, how lovely.
(chuckles)

What are you serving
for dessert?

HEDDA:
We're skipping dessert.

I'm already getting diabetes.

* I want to be wanted *

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.
(typewriter dings)

Captioned by
Media Access Group at WGBH