All language subtitles for Feud - 01x03 - Mommie Dearest.FLEET.English.C.orig.Addic7ed.com

Ew. How are you doing that?

It's so easy. I'll show you.

Oh, we're not allowed to smoke.

You don't inhale.
That's the whole point.

Boys love it.

Here. You try.

Kathy!

What are you doing?

Why don't you girls go back
to my dressing room, please.

Thank you.

I'll be speaking to your
mother about this, miss.

I want you to stay away from that girl.

When you see her again,
no need to be rude.

Just wish her a crisp "good morning"

and keep moving. There.

Oh, Mamacita,

that's lovely.

Mm-hmm.

I believe I'll have the veal
tonight, Michael, please.

And Mamacita,

I noticed you were eyeing the liver.

Yeah, with onions.

Mm-hmm. And fish sticks for you girls?

May we have steak?

Oh.

Oh, they grow up so fast.

Two filets, Michael, please.

Very rare.

Thank you.

Mother, may we take off these bows?

Everybody's staring.

That's not why they're
staring, dear heart.

Oh, Miss Joan, before I forget...

What's this?

It's the card to go with the flowers

you're sending to Miss Christina.

She's opening in her
play tomorrow night.

No.

No, I don't believe I will.

Do you think my mother
ever sent me flowers?

Do you think she ever sent me anything?

I was earning my own room
and board by the time

I was 12 years old, scrubbing toilets.

But did I complain?

Not once.

Did I expect cards and flowers?

Never.

But I'll tell you what,
it made me tough.

Gave me ambition.

No, we'll...

we'll see how her
reviews are and then...

we'll think about sending flowers.

You may go to the powder room

and remove your bows,

if that's what you wish.

But don't come back looking disheveled.

- Thank you, Mommie.
- Thank you, Mommie.

Here, let me see that.

Mamacita, let me see that.

And a pen.

These are the second

and third choices for the neighbor girl.

Yeah, they're not a patch on
the girl I had to let go.

How about her? She just
came off of Wagon Train.

Yeah, looks like she was pulling it.

That is why we're recasting, isn't it?

The first one was too pretty?

Who's too pretty?

Tony Curtis. Which is why

I'm still refusing his
dinner invitations.

I need to speak with Bob.

He is all yours.

Well, half yours.

Uh...

I think it's best to be
direct in these matters.

What happened Friday
night was wonderful,

but it can't happen again.

Oh, Betty, you don't know how happy I am

to hear you say that.

I was looking at Harriet
this morning, and I thought,

"Oh, this... this can't
happen again." You're right.

I agree with you completely.

Good.

But did you have to agree so quickly?

What's all this?

Oh, cannon fodder. Possible
replacements for the girl

that you and Crawford had me can.

Here are the revised pages, Dad.

Thank you, honey.

Adell. Such a professional young lady.

How are you finding things?
Enjoying yourself?

Oh, it's a real thrill.

I feel like I'm learning so much.

You're doing a marvelous job.

Oh, thank you, Miss Davis.

Bette! Don't coddle her.

You promised me you'd be as tough on her

as you would any other script girl.

I just admire that you make
your pictures a family affair.

It's called nepotism.
The town runs on it.

That is so true.

Perhaps we should cast my
daughter as the neighbor girl.

That's not a bad idea.

- No, I'm joking, Bob.
- No, come on! B.D.'s the right age.

She's got the right
amount of teenage sass.

- She is not an actress.
- Well, look who

her mother is, for Christ sake.

The apple can't fall
that far from the tree.

Now you say she doesn't understand you,

doesn't appreciate how
hard you work for her.

Well, give her a pair of your shoes,

and let her walk around for a while.

And what would Crawford
think about that?

She has a daughter who's
actually an actress, you know.

Christina's too old for the part.

She's adopted. She could be talented.

Yeah.

Bette, I'm sorry.

I would have waited
to bring this up, but

I just felt like I couldn't
do my best work today

with it weighing on my mind.

It's about B.D.

Oh, Christ, I planned to talk to you

about this after we wrapped.

Did she already say something?

I just want you to know,
I was not unkind,

though I was quite firm.

Well, what are you talking about?

Your daughter was corrupting my twins.

I caught them smoking.

I already told her to
steer clear of your tots,

and she knows she is
not supposed to smoke.

Well, perhaps you can keep a
little tighter reign on her.

Sure, but let me ask you something.

I see the way your girls are.
They're like two

well-trained Pomeranians.

Just what is your secret?

My secret?

Well, uh...

I've always been a
strict disciplinarian.

Some people perhaps find
that I've been too strict,

especially with my first two...

Christina and Christopher.

I find that giving children a task

to perform occupies the mind,

and-and gives them a real sense

of accomplishment and responsibility.

I mean, my twins, for instance...

they just love... sewing and cooking.

That's a good idea. So, Crawfish?

What do you say we toss back
a few after work tonight?

You and me?

I'll buy.

All right.

And close the door.

- What?
- The door.

- Close it?
- Yeah.

So,

I had just wanted to thank you.

Thank me? For what?

For your advice.

I'm putting

B.D. to work... on the picture.

Bob wants her to play the neighbor girl.

Really?

I see.

That's why you asked me here.

Because you were afraid
I would make a stink.

I know what you think of me, Bette.

I know what you've always thought of me.

I know what you think of my mothering.

Well, I just want to
say that if I appear

to be overprotective or worry too much

about my children, it's only because

I had a mother who didn't
care whether I lived or died.

Threw me out like a pair of old shoes.

Shipped me off to
convent school when I was 12.

Maybe she was trying to
protect your virtue.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

That ship had sailed. She knew that.

You lost your cherry when you were 12?

11.

Christ!

I didn't even get a
tingle till I was 25,

and then I waited another two years

before I did the deed,

and that was on my goddamn honeymoon.

Well, in the desert
that was my childhood,

I was grateful for any
kind of genuine affection.

To feel cherished.

Who was the lucky Cub Scout?

My mother's second
husband, Henry Cassin.

He was a lovely man.

Meant the world to me.

Well, we called him "Daddy Cassin,"

but he wasn't really my daddy.

We weren't blood relations,
so it wasn't incest.

But he was kind and gentle,

and he loved me.

I led him into it.

You were just a child.

Your mother

should have kicked him out.

Well, perhaps, but I was
glad to get out of there.

Get away from my mother.

I mean, the nuns were brutal, but...

nothing compared to the
way my mother treated me.

The nuns actually
taught me a great deal,

things I still cherish.

Discipline, the importance
of cleanliness and order.

Well, after my father ditched us,

we were also sent off
to a boarding school.

Not nuns.

Puritan Yankees.

You know, lots of fresh
air, no electricity,

naked baths in the snow.

I loved it.

Made me tough.

'Course it was very difficult

being separated from my
mother, but she had to work.

I mean, and work she did, like a dog,

until we were reunited.

And then she never left my
side to the end of her days.

She, um... she died only last year.

Do you miss her?

Yes.

Yes.

I think maybe sh...

She was my only true female friend.

You're lucky.

Look,

we don't have to be

best pals.

Just allies.

We both want the same thing,

for this picture to be a success.

Well, I'm sure it will
be, thanks to you.

You're a shoo-in for Best Actress.

I'm too old to even think about awards.

There, you see that?

Even that was almost convincing.

I mean it, Lucille.

I'm going to support this picture

even if it means supporting you, too.

That story you were set to run,

I don't think you should.

Don't go soft on me now.

We have a strategy.

If you want to steal the picture,

we should stick to it.

- But she'll know it came from me.
- How?

Anyone on that set could've complained

about her offensive body odor.

But nobody works under those lights

in such close contact as I do.

She'll know.

Well, I'll be damned.

Joan Crawford,

Miss Crystal Allen herself,

is actually losing her nerve.

No, it's just that I think

I am beginning to understand
her a little bit.

I mean, she's a single
mother working in Hollywood.

I don't think you can begin
to appreciate, Hedda,

just how tough that can be.

You know, Joan, I could've gone out

and bought myself a
passel of brats, too.

But why bother?

The town's already full of 'em.

There's no need to be small.

Remind me to tell you
that on Oscar night

when she picks up the
award for Best Actress.

You said he was from Broadway.

He's not.

I checked.

All his stage work

is from San Diego.

Yeah, the Old Globe.

He's a distinguished
Shakespearian actor.

Oh, I'm sure his Falstaff
is the talk of Tijuana.

Oh, Christ, look at him.

He's eating because he's nervous.
Look, let's just

get through this rehearsal,
then see how you feel.

Nobody's that nervous.

"Hi, Mom!"

Uh, why are you reading it

as if you're thrilled to see me?
You're watching

a shitty Crawford picture on television.

You're distracted. Try it again.

I always think it's nice to break bread

with strangers, don't you?

Oh, yes. Yes, indeed.

Sorry.

Bob, don't you think it would
be better if I just...

took the entire plate from her?

Knock yourself out.

I ain't hungry.

Ha! Oh.

Oh, that reaction is priceless.

I imagine that would be
Jane's reaction, too...

taken aback by Edwin's boorishness.

She'd wonder, "Is this man
a sophisticated artist

or a cheap pig?"

I guess she'll find out.

I guess she will.

And then the television talks,

"When your dog says
woof, feed him Iliad."

Then I say to the TV,

"Oh, shut up."

Now you talk some more.

Okay, Bette,
you'll hear the buzz,

you go upstairs to confront Blanche.

Then, Victor, you're left
here on your own to explore.

Okay?

"Well, how come

"we never see her around?

"We've been living next door
to them for six months now

"and the only one I ever
see is that fat sister

slouching around."

Get ready. And... Buzz.

Will you please excuse me?

Oh. Certainly.

You like him.

I like talent.

"You know, Julie says that
sister is kind of peculiar.

Did you ever notice that?"

"No, I never have."

You're good.

Oh.

It's like Mommy just gave me a new pony.

I'm awful, aren't I?

You'll get better.

Yeah.

I just got off the phone with Hopper.

She wanted me to comment on a story.

What story?

Bette.

Bette...

Where's your wheelchair?

It's on the set, of course. Why?

Because you're gonna need it
after I break your goddamn legs.

Where do you get off telling
Hopper that you're gonna be

in the Best Actress category

and I've decided to be in Supporting?

- It was your idea.
- What? Have you lost your mind?

Well, now, she'd
had a bit to drink...

that's true... but she seemed lucid

and certainly sincere.

You said you didn't care about awards,

that you wanted to support me.

And you took that to mean

that I would go into Supporting

and hand you Lead Actress?

Well, I thought it was
a collegial gesture.

I mean, after all, you
have bookend Oscars.

I've only got one.

Well, you tell Hopper to print this:

I'm not sharing shit with you.

And let me tell you something
else, I'm going to be

the first person to have three Oscars.

Even though everyone knows
I already should have,

because I got robbed in 1950.

That's certainly ungracious, yes,

and dismissive of Miss Judy
Holliday's winsome performance.

She won by default!

That bitch Anne Baxter,

she pushed her way into my
category and we split the vote.

That's why she won.

Well, need I remind you that,

unlike Eve, you and I

share equal billing on this.

We're both leads.

Ladies, why are we
fighting about the Oscars?

We haven't even finished
making this movie yet.

Can we please concentrate
on the matter at hand?

There's room for both of you to succeed.

In this town?

Are you nuts?

Fuck off, Bob.

And it was Gloria Swanson

who was robbed in 1950,

not you, bitch!

Well, boss, it looks like...

you got yourself another
war picture after all.

Good morning, Frank.

I trust you had a restful weekend.

Oh, Mamacita,

don't you just love a Monday?

Good morning.

This is gonna be a long goddamn week.

Okay, Bette, I
need the same energy.

You come bursting through the door

and then you rush over to Blanche.

Okay?

You rush over to the bed,

you untie her,

lift her off the bed,

drag her to the door.

Joan, Blanche is passed out.

Okay? So you just-just lie slack.

You're dead weight.

I'll say she is.

Okay.

Here we go.

- Roll camera!
- Speed!

And action!

Blanche. Blanche.

You-you...

you got to...

got to... help me.

Here, we've got to leave.

Leave. Please.

Please, Blanche.

Blanche!

Please!

Cut!

Cut!

Okay, let's do it again.

Oh, I'm so sorry.

I'm ticklish.

It's okay, Joan. It's okay.

We'll do it again. No problem.

Are you ready?

Okay, keep it together.

Back to one.

- Roll camera!
- Speed!

And... action!

- Cut!
- I'm sorry! I'm sorry.

- Must be the dust.
- Back to one.

Cut.

- Cut. What?
- I'm sorry.

Does she have to stand there?

She's not the director. Why
is she standing there?

If I were the director, I'd
tell you to do it again

and again until it was convincing.

Bette, please.

- Speed!
- Okay, you ready, Bette?

- Yeah.
- And action.

Oh, that face.

Right into camera.

This really
is a horror picture.

Cut!

All right, let's do it again.

Maybe we'll actually get
it right this time.

I really think this will be the one.

That's encouraging,

since you don't actually
have to do anything.

- Roll camera!
- Speed!

Action.

Oh, what the fuck? Cut!

And I know what you're trying to do.

I'm not trying to do anything.

Honestly, Jane.

And cut.

Bette.

Cut!

All right, moving on.

Joan, we're gonna need you in
here for the medium shots.

Ow!

Oh! Goddamn it!

- Cut, cut, cut, cut.
- Oh, Christ!

Are you okay?

She did that on purpose!

I barely touched her.

Oh, Jesus. Well, are you

just gonna stand there, you bastard?!

Did you get it?

Help me.

Leave.

And cut!

Son of a bitch!

Get me an osteopath, for God's sakes.

What's wrong? What's wrong?

Jesus. Oh, my God!

- Don't touch me.
- Can we do it again?

Oh, are you kidding me?
Don't even think about it.

I mean, it must be awful.

You know, Julie says that
sister is kind of peculiar.

Christ, this is painful.

Oh, come on, Bette, it's not that bad.

Don't condescend, Bob. She's awful.

like a regular
sentence, you know?

L-Like just a regular person talking.

Like... here?

Try just a little less. Just a-a...

Start again, start again.

Okay. From the top or...

Maybe you could put
her dialogue off camera.

You're overreacting.
It's a small part.

- She'll be fine.
- I guess she should know.

She's beautiful.

She's not an actress.

No, she's not.

Try as if you were talking...

to your best friend.

She should be billed as B.D.
Merrill, not Davis.

awful. Julie says that sister is...

A little louder.

What? That's her name.

He adopted her. Legally.

You know, Julie says that
sister is kind of peculiar.

- Did you ever notice that?
- Oh, God.

What should I say to her?

Well, she's your kid.

You're not going to tell
her she stinks on ice.

You'll... You'll lie to her.

Don't they ever have company?

I mean, it must be awful.

Well, I think you're good.

Really good.

You don't know what that means to me,

coming from you.

Sure, I do.

All the queens love me.

It's true.

Do it again.

- Fine.
- Mmm.

"What a dump!"

Oh, it's marvelous.

You know, I think it's so admirable

the way you've embraced my tribe.

The truth is, I only
really knew I'd made it

once the female impersonators
started doing me in their acts.

Well, that guarantees you're
leaving behind a real legacy.

Ah, the only... real legacy is children.

Not all destined to become parents,

but we are all somebody's child.

And your mother. She loves you?
Supports you?

Mother's always been just...

very supportive.

Good.

We have to love our kids

no matter what.

Like my Margot.

Oh. Who's Margot?

My youngest.

We adopted her when she was just a baby.

Sweet little thing.

By the time she was three,

it was clear she wasn't
like other children.

She was diagnosed mentally retarded.

Oh. I'm so sorry.

She's in a special school in Maine.

She gets everything she needs.

And it ain't cheap,
let me tell you that.

It's one of the main reasons
I'm doing this picture,

is to pay her tuition.

Mother.

I'd like to run lines.

I'm already doing that with Mr.
Buono, sweetheart.

But I have a scene that shoots tomorrow.

Oh, well, then, you should be in
bed getting your beauty rest.

I want to do a good job.

I'm sure you'll do your best, B.D.

Good night.

So, page 75.

Oh, yes.

Girls? Mommie's home.

Girls?

Girls!

They're not here. Don't you remember?

They start camp today. Two weeks.

Of course.

I guess I'm going to
have to get used to it.

To camp?

No. To this.

Coming home to this awful silence.

You deserve silence.

Children are hard work.

Once the work is done,
silence is the reward.

Reward?

You know, Mamacita,
one of the things I loved most

about having these children...

all of them...

was that no matter what I was doing,

making a picture,

or out for an event,

the mad rush that was once my life...

was that I'd always come home

to this wonderful noise and joy.

Well, it's the condition of
being a professional woman,

I suppose.

Maybe all women.

One day, you...

you wake up and you find...

You've no husband.

Your career is over.

The children are grown
and left the nest.

And all you're left with is yourself.

Yes. Women outlive men.

Children leave.

Best get used to it.

Oh, Mamacita.

How I love your Teutonic pragmatism.

No, you're right.

It's no tragedy.

It's simply a new chapter, that's all.

And me being alone doesn't have to mean

being lonely.

Does it?

I'll embrace the change
of things to come

and really learn how to enjoy me.

Okay.

Good night.

Don't shoot! We give up!

How about you, Nevada?

More sandwich?

You'll have to come and get me.

Drop your gun.

Thank you, Mamacita.

I want the dirt.

You'll have to settle for sand.

Oh, you think she's
hard to take on a soundstage?

My God, you should see her in the wild.

In broad daylight?
It's horrifying.

Coca-Cola, Bob?

You're a bad girl, Bette.

So, where's
the Queen of Sheba?

In her dressing room.

She's coming.

All those years

of alcohol abuse

have exacted a terrible price.

Christ.

It's a hundred degrees, and she's drunk.

And so unprofessional.

She refused a mobile dressing room.

Insisted on being ferried

back and forth to a motel,

while the rest of us
sat and waited for her

in the scorching sun.

That's scandalous.

It's warm, Mamacita.

I'm going to need my water standing by.

Which water?

Joan.

Bob.

Joan.

Good morning.

Let me show you where
you're going to be dying.

I'm going to have to go back

to my dressing room for a moment,

but I'll be right back.

Your dressing room's a
hundred yards away.

Let's rehearse the scene first.

Mamacita, get the driver.

I'll be right back.

Lucky she's laying on her back all day.

For her, it was just
another day at the beach.

But for me, I really had to draw

on some very deep feelings.

It took all the skill that I had

just to bring some
reality to the moment.

Because you're a pro.

I'm not falling on those.

I don't do stunts.

And I got

absolutely no support

from my director

or from my co-star.

The selfish bitch.

And cut.

Print that one, Ernie.

Let's go in tighter.

- Aah.
- No, Joan.

Joan.

What?

Wai-Wait, don't go anywhere.

We're just swinging a lens.

I'll be back in two ticks.

We're losing the light.

Tighter.

Are you sure that's not too tight?

Well, get it even.

All right.

Is that as tight as it'll go?

Already it's too much.

Oh, shut up.

Just go ahead and tie
it, for Christ's sake.

Is it me, or is
she getting younger?

You're just now noticing?

Every time she comes
back from her trailer,

she she's lost five more years.

Oh, Christ.

Let's just get through this.

It was my big scene.

My dying confession.

I knew she would do
something to steal it.

Roll those big bug eyes or something.

Anything to draw the focus to her.

Action.

Jane, I'm...

I'm dying.

There's no time.

You must listen.

I made you...

waste your whole life.

She looks too goddamn good.

So what did the old
harpy do to cock it up?

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

I got through my entire speech.

I think I even moved her

with my performance.

Well, I'm already writing
the rave in my head.

Jesus, Ernie.
How's she doing that?

She looks 20 years younger.

I was losing the light.
I think it must be

those reflectors I'm hitting her with.

No. I swear to God.

It's the goddamn acting.

I hate this fucking picture.

But if it's successful,

I can make a pretty penny.

Okay.

Okay.

That's good.

I was in the neighborhood.

How nice.

Thank you.

So, word on the street

is that Crawford's walking
away with the picture.

Is that what all the
streetwalkers are saying, Hedda?

- That's the buzz.
- Oh.

And who's the busy little bee?

Careful.

Once you sting, you die.

But not the queen.

Oh, come on, Bette.

All those ridiculous
studio press releases

touting how wonderfully well

you two have been getting along?

It's hogwash.

I happen to know every
single nasty thing

you've done to Crawford
over the last six weeks.

Kicking a woman in the head?

Academy members don't reward
that sort of behavior.

I mean,

regardless of what we think of Crawford,

she is an institution.

Or belongs in one if she really
thinks you're her friend.

Oh, Bette.

I'm offering you

an opportunity.

Give me your side of the story,

and then when it all comes out,

you won't have to be
painted as the bad guy.

I win awards playing bad guys.

But that's on the screen.

This is real life.

Real life? Ha!

This isn't real life.

This is Hollywood, Hedda.

It's all fake,

from the manicured lawns in the desert

to your manufactured concern.

Well, I am concerned.

I so wanted to write a story

about how two of
Hollywood's golden titans

were getting along.

As an example to ladies everywhere.

But I am a truth teller.

I must report the facts,

regardless of how ugly they may be.

You have been circling this
project like a vulture

from the start.

It's women like you,

who've nurtured venom and
resentment for years,

that make it such a
battle for the rest of us

who are actually putting
our asses on the line

and risking something.

Truth teller.

That's right.

And the truth is,

I hear your daughter stinks on ice.

She practically ruins the picture.

Get out.

And B.D.'s name

better not show up

in one of your poison-pen columns.

Everything's fair game, Bette.

Not my child.

And for your information, she
doesn't ruin the picture.

Her role isn't important
enough to do that.

Shit.

I know you.

Oh.

I seen you on Hawaiian Eye.

You're Charles Laughton.

I want to be in pictures.

That's why I came out
here from Nebraska.

You think I could be in pictures?

You think I could be a star?

You have...

loads of potential.

- Let's go. Come on.
- There's been a mistake.

This is... I was looking
for a gas station.

What?

Well,
them's the breaks, lady.

Can bail your friend out

after the judge sees him in a few hours.

He's not seeing
a judge in a few hours

because he did not do anything.

My friend is an actor,

and he was there doing research

for a part in a motion picture.

I suppose you could verify that?

What do you think?

Uh...

Can't thank you enough for doing this.

You'll understand why I
couldn't call my own mother.

I spent 30 years earning
a little capital.

I don't mind spending it on a friend.

But Victor, you've got
to be more careful.

Something like this

could ruin your career.

I hate keeping secrets.

I hate lying.

Lying is what we do for a living, kid.

Jack, I know it's a little
rough around the edges,

but this short editing
schedule you've got me on

is pretty brutal.

I'll tell you what's brutal,

I got 400 theaters booked already.

Four hundred.

And this is what you give me?

Come on.

Look, Bob,

the picture's not
terrible, until the end.

And that's the only thing that
anybody's gonna remember.

If you don't have an ending that works,

you don't have a picture, right?

You want to change the ending.

No, I don't want to... I... goddamn it!

I want the ending that we agreed on.

Crawford dying on the beach.

That's what I want.

Instead, every time you cut back to her,

it looks like she's getting better.

It's like fucking Camille in reverse.

Yeah, yeah, what... okay,
we-we can reshoot that.

You're goddamn right we can.

Yeah, but I can't take
the entire company

back to the beach.

Well, then just bring
the beach to the stage.

Okay.

Okay.

How much do you want to spend on that?

I am not spending anything on that, Bob.

That's coming out of your end.

I'm going to New York to
see My Fair Fucking Lady.

Just do it by the time
I get back, all right?

And get that hangdog
expression of your face.

Come on, come on.

It's not like you just took
a dump all over Casablanca.

It's a B movie.

It's always been a B movie.

Always will be a B movie.

This?

Toss that in the box.

You know, there was a time when

I wouldn't be the one doing this,

I would be off to my next project.

But now it's not even clear
there will be a next project.

I'm
sorry I wasn't better.

I wanted to do a good job.

Oh, sweetheart, you did a fine job.

You did a very fine job.

A creditable job.

I mean, it was your first picture.

You looked beautiful.

And you... spoke clearly.

You hit your marks,

you didn't look into the lens once,

not once.

You make it look so easy.

I hope I didn't ruin it.

If Crawford couldn't ruin the picture,

nobody could.

You might want
to take special note

of my projected income,

I have a new picture coming
out in a few months.

You're clearly a woman
of means, Miss Crawford.

That's not really the issue.

Well, there should be no issue.

It's my deepest desire
to offer a loving home

to a motherless child.

It's no longer 1940.

I mean, the notion of a
single mother adopting

should no longer be an issue.

While your marital status
may present some questions,

that's not why we're turning
down your application.

You're turning me down?

Why?

Because it's no longer 1940.

You're simply too old.

Margot?

Margot, darling, it's Mummy.

Mommy?

Yes, sweetheart, how are you?

Miss Ashland told me that,
uh, you've been painting

some beautiful pictures.

Mommy, where are you?

Mummy's been working in California.

And she really misses you.

But I'm coming home soon.

And, uh...
well, I-I'll drive up

and we'll have a very long visit.

And we'll go swimming
if it's not too chilly.

Would you like that, sweetheart?

Margot?

Margot?

I'm sorry, Miss Davis.

I think she got a little distracted.

I understand.

Jane, I...

I'm dying.

There's no time.

You must listen.

I made you waste your whole life,

thinking you'd crippled me.

Please stop.

You didn't do it, Jane.

I did it myself.

Don't you understand?

I crippled myself.

You weren't driving that night.

You were too drunk, I
wouldn't let you drive.

I made you go open the gates.

I watched you get out of the car.

You'd been so cruel to me at the party,

imitating me,

making people laugh at me.

I watched you get out of the car.

I wanted to run you down.

Crush you.

But you saw the car coming.

I hit the gates.

I... sn... snapped my spine.

Then, you mean...

all this time we could've been friends.

Cut.

Print that one. Brilliant.

Ladies and
gentlemen, that's a wrap.