Bette and Joan by Anton Burge

Author:Anton Burge
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Samuel French
Published: 2015-06-02T00:00:00+00:00

ACT TWO

(7:00 p.m. Darkness. Music fades out. Lights up very slowly on BETTE’s dressing room. Same as before. Voices off: muffled, unintelligible, anxious. Then clearer, closer, angry, raised. The sound of footsteps moving swiftly along the corridor. ‘Miss Davis are you sure you will be OK?’/ ‘Can we do anything for you… A doctor?’)

(Lights up. The door of BETTE’s dressing room is opened with force. Aldrich. ‘BETTE, I think she’s afraid—’)

BETTE. (cutting in) Afraid of what? Afraid I’m gonna kick her fucking teeth in? She better be! We rehearsed this, Bob. She and I went over the damn scene together, then all of a sudden she wants to shoot in one take, no rehearsal, and the stupid bitch becomes the weight of King Kong!

(The voice of Robert Aldrich, off: ‘Listen, Bette—’)

If she’d been trained in the theatre she would know how to fake it! She’s a fake in every other department!

(Aldrich, off: ‘Please Bette, Joan is very distressed—’)

Distressed? What the hell does she have to be distressed about?

(Aldrich, off: ‘I believe she is in her john throwing up.’)

Well, tell her to have a good crap, cause she’s full of that too!

(BETTE slams the door. In pain with acute back strain, she pulls the Baby Jane wig from her head.)

(Furious) I say don’t play it as if it were a fucking fairy tale, only to discover she weighs in like Johnny Weismuller! I had to drop her, couldn’t hold her a second longer!

And now, apparently, I am informed, she’s crying… the bitch can piss tears!

(Grabbing the telephone she flops into the armchair, kicking off her shoes. Dialling an internal number. Into the receiver:)

Who is this?… Well, who the hell do you think it is? Get Jack Warner on the line…yes, yes, it is urgent! Put me through. (After a short interval) What do you mean he’s just left for the weekend? It’s Thursday! Tell that yella belly bastard he’s a liar! Jesus!

(She slams down the receiver and lights a cigarette. She rises, pacing up and down, smoking furiously.)

If this were the forties I could have walked straight into Jack’s office, but now…son of a bitch.

We’re not even in a proper studio, snuck out on some back lot where Warners used to churn out their ‘B’ pictures. Like the trash!

(After a moment JOAN enters her dressing room, first apparently tearful, a handkerchief to her face, then, gradually, she cannot hold the laughter in and is doubled up with hilarity. Voices off: ‘Good night Miss Crawford’ etc. BETTE’s room remains lit.)

JOAN. (laughing helplessly as she removes the belt. In time she will get out of her costume) Golly, what a weight! At one point I thought I’d ruptured something! She managed it in one take though, I have to hand it to her. But it had to be done – she had to be punished. God knows I’ve tried to be that woman’s friend, for nearly thirty years — boy, have I tried. I’ve never known such resistance. They have all submitted in

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