The Bad and the Beautiful Page #6

We finished a little before dawn.

We're alone now.

And I can talk to you.

Now I can tell you

what I never could tell you before.

You must forgive me, my darling.

You mustn't mind my crying...

...now that it's too late.

Now, at last, I can tell you.

I love you, Gregory.

I love you. I love you so...

After the opening, there was a party.

It was a lovely top-of-the-world party.

It was my party,

and everybody was there.

And everybody made

a fuss over me. Everybody...

... but Jonathan.

You wouldn't come to my party,

so I brought my party to you.

Jonathan, it was so wonderful.

Everything you wanted for me.

Just as you promised.

They applauded, cheered,

oohed and aahed.

Georgia, go back and enjoy it.

But there's no one to enjoy it with.

Why, that's silly. Everybody in town

is fighting to be near the new star.

You know what I mean, Jonathan.

Georgia, I have to be alone tonight.

After a picture's done,

something happens.

It's a feeling of letdown, of emptiness.

It's bad. It gets worse.

I can't help it.

I know. Syd and Harry have told me

about that. But tonight...

I'd only depress you.

I want you to go back now.

- You've got bows to take. Take them!

- Darling.

I was afraid you might be angry

or resent my coming here...

...but I had to take that chance.

Right in the middle of everything,

suddenly I knew one thing so clearly.

The party is where you are:

Depressed or gay or angry...

...or tender or in any of your moods.

I know them all.

Let's have our party.

We've got so much to celebrate.

We'll ice the champagne.

We'll light the fire.

We'll put on the records and dance.

I'll help you pull yourself out of this

the way you helped me.

Give me that chance, darling?

Please?

Please don't shut me out.

Please.

You said you'd get rid of her quick.

Now, go back to your party.

The picture's finished, Georgia.

You're business, I'm company.

Shut up!

Shut up, and get back upstairs!

Oh, I forgot to tell you, Georgia.

I saw the picture.

I thought you were swell.

Good night, Georgia.

Stop looking like that.

Remember, I didn't ask you here.

You couldn't stay where you belong.

You couldn't enjoy

what I made possible for you.

You'd rather have this.

Well, congratulations.

You've got it all laid out for you...

...so you can wallow in self-pity.

A betrayed woman, the wounded doe,

with all the dribble that goes with it.

"He doesn't love me. He was lying.

Lovely moments, tender words.

He's lying. He's cheap and cruel!

That low woman Lila!"

Well, maybe I like Lilas.

Maybe I like to be cheap sometimes.

Maybe everybody does.

Or don't you remember?

Get that look off your face!

Who gave you the right to dig into me

and decide what I'm like?

How do you know

how I feel about you?

Maybe I don't want anybody

to own me, you or anybody. Get out!

Get out!

I told you I'd never work for

him again, and I never will.

I don't blame you, Georgia.

Jonathan certainly ruined you.

You were a drunk and a tramp playing

bit parts, and he made a star of you.

You had an ironclad contract

with Shields Productions.

Iron, I know, because I drew it myself.

Starting at $100 a week,

we owned you body and soul.

The next morning you walked

right into this office.

That same look on your face as now,

and you threw the contract in my face.

Jonathan let you do with it.

I wanted to take you to court.

But he said no.

So you signed with ANL...

...and made them the millions

we should have made.

For the last seven years, you've been

in the top 10 in every popularity poll.

Yes, Jonathan sure fouled you up.

Jim, you're pretty happy

with yourself these days, aren't you?

You and your Poolutzer... Poolitzer.

"To James Lee Bartlow,

whose first book"...so and so...

..."graduate of Harvard

and the Sorbonne"...

"1949, professor of Medieval History

at a leading Southern university."

Summer is the quietest time of year

in a college town, and the loveliest.

I was outlining what I hoped

would be my second novel.

My first, on which I'd labored

seven years, was just out.

Surprisingly, for a scholarly work

about early Virginia...

... my book was enjoying

a brisk nationwide sale.

Possibly because it was

liberally peppered with sex...

... because, after all, early Virginia

was liberally peppered with sex.

Was that why Hollywood had bought it?

Why did I stay away from home

that afternoon?

Because Rosemary, my wife,

was entertaining the symposium...

... factory wives who met bimonthly...

... to enjoy a little culture

and a lot of gossip.

Rosemary was reading a paper

on the island of St. Daniels...

... which we visited the summer before.

"The techniques of courtship,

marriage and consummation.

These are the concern

of the anthropologist...

...rather than of the sociologist.

They are certainly

not for the drawing room.

The Longhorns:

Dating back to the misty past

of the first Spanish explorers..."

Her paper seemed

to be getting a good reception.

Possibly because it was

liberally peppered with sex...

... because, after all,

the island of St. Daniels...

... is liberally peppered with sex.

I started to work.

James Lee doesn't mind one bit.

Do you, darling?

He never minds.

Autograph, Miss Rosser?

Dear Miss Rosser,

isn't this just like a man?

I fixed his study with everything

an author could want...

...and there he sits

in a dreary old rocker...

...clickety-clack

on that dilapidated old portable.

I suppose we'll be losing you

to Hollywood now, Professor Bartlow.

The James Lee Bartlows in Hollywood,

isn't that a ridiculous idea?

Besides which, what could Hollywood

possibly offer us?

Besides which,

Hollywood hasn't asked us.

What did he write?

Oh, professor! You shouldn't have!

Ladies, look what Mr. Bartlow wrote!

James Lee, you have

a very naughty mind...

...I'm happy to say.

James Lee, no.

There are ladies out there. No...

I started to work.

Mrs. Bartlow says eat.

It'll do you good.

Thanks, Milly.

I started to work.

Hello.

Yes, this is Professor Bartlow.

Who?

Where?

Oh. Yes, put him on.

Hello, Mr. Shields.

Fine, thanks.

I heard on the extension.

Hollywood! Jonathan Shields.

Sure I'm glad you bought the book.

I hope your movie of it makes me

as happy as your check did.

No.

No, I'm sorry.

I don't see how I can.

Tell him you're working on

your new novel. Go on.

I need all summer

to work on my new book.

- Don't tell him what it's about.

- Get your hand away.

I'd rather not discuss it

until it's finished.

My, just listen to that man talk!

All expenses paid.

You just tell him you'll think it over.

No, it's impossible.

I can't come out now.

Say something charming

for goodbye.

- Goodbye, Mr. Shields.

- James Lee, that was not charming.

He has enough charm for all three of us.

- He surely rubbed you the wrong way.

- He surely did.

Darling...

...I don't want you to feel sorry

you didn't say yes to Mr. Shields.

What if we do spend the whole

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