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 dishevelled.
- 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 neighbour 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, Bette, 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 marvellous 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 neighbour 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 rein 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 neighbour 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 god damn 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.
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 odour.
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 Shakespearean 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, Mum!"
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 Mummy 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 god damn 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 3 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 god damn 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!
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! God damn 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 marvellous.
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 god damn 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 god damn acting.
I hate this fucking picture.
But if it's successful,
I can make a pretty penny.
Okay.
That's good.
I was in the neighbourhood.
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 behaviour.
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 theatres 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... god damn 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 re-shoot that.
You're god damn 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.
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.
Mummy?
Yes, sweetheart, how are you?
Miss Ashland told me that, uh, you've been painting
some beautiful pictures.
Mummy, 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?
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.