they really are sweet little things
you are evidently a man who knows a great deal about bull.
of all man's malignity -- of all his sadism -- none is more depraved than cruelty to animals.
who are you, sir?
the actor
i see. and you are in california for what reason?
and what pictures have you made?
well, i wish you luck. it is a treacherous business.
in hollywood the fiercest bulls are the most brutally killed.
there you are, honey. aren't you a wonderful girl?
there's no call for that language-
darling, i talked to millicent.
she said no
she's a catholic. she says it would put her soul in peril. divorce is a very serious sin, apparently.
i'm so sorry.
how so?
yes?
so my life is a subject for mockery. all of it. every detail. every personal detail.
thank you for your time
miss parsons, i have one additional question for you.
why did we not know about this sooner?
i pay you a good deal of money to be my eyes and ears in hollywood, do i not? if you cannot provide this simple service you are of no use to me.
please be quiet.
and how do you feel when you are lied to?
good. retain that feeling. let it nourish you from this day forth. it shall nourish us both
louis
hope you don't mind my popping in--
what a wretched place this is. i can't come to town without feeling filthy. you really must buy that parcel of land by the castle and come north.
quite. and this is why i came to visit. have you heard about this citizen kane picture?
mm. not a very good picture i am told.
apparently it details the exploits of a publisher like myself. entirely too much like myself. do you follow so far?
i can't see how the release of that picture will do anyone any good, really.
say, while i'm in town why don't we play 18 holes at bel air? or maybe just nine. do you have time for a round today?
and maybe we could get mr. warner and mr. goldwyn and mr. cohn and mr. selznick to play as well.
oh, why is that?
why is that, louis?
oh, that's right. how silly of me to have forgotten. i sometimes forget that you're all jews. lots of people forget that. if they ever knew it.
see what you can do about this citizen kane picture, won't you?
and you'll come out to the castle soon, i hope marion and i would love to see more of you.
the journal was pretty harsh to roosevelt today.
he is a bolshevik. he will have us at war by the end of the year. i think i'm going to run that wheelchair picture.
thank you, joseph.
nothing for you to worry about, darling
the s.e.c. has turned down my request for relief on the debts.
it's not really--
125 million.
yes.
one . . . buys things.
switch it off switch it off
would everyone please leave
marion--
this picture--
and now of all times -- now -- when i am grasping on with my fingernails to live at all this orson we lies -- this insect -- this reprehensible insect -- has the nerve to challenge me! to show my life as some cheap sideshow -- a freak show -- a dying, impotent old freak in his castle!
mr. willicombe -- you have seen me in adversity -- you have seen me take on the unions and the congress and the railroads -- and we have risen above -- we have risen above. and if that dog welles thinks he can strike at me now -- when he thinks i'm weak when he thinks i'm vulnerable -- then he does not fully comprehend the man is facing.
get me louella parsons, now!
this upstart -- this puny man -- how does he even dare to imagine he could comprehend my life and my world when he crawls with the other insects in the sewer -- in the dung -- when we control every moment of his life from the instant he is born to the instant we decide that he will die! does he have no idea of the power that controls him?!
miss parsons, mr. hearst. use the file
now get me j. edgar hoover
then wake him up!
that insect thinks he knows me! he thinks he knows my capabilities! when his neck is in my teeth and his blood is in my throat then he will know william randolph hearst!
i've been thinking about the tribune in chicago. the examiner just can't make any headway. circulation is still down. i think we should buy the tribune.
there's nothing to explain
i will not defend my life to you--
we are in no "pickle" -- as you would euphemistically have it.
there is nothing to discuss-
you are being typically theatrical, marion. i need the tribune to--
it's 12th century. from deauville -- in france.
you needn't use that language with me
i wanted it
not for me.
that's right. you've captured me exactly. goodnight.
you are repellant when you drink.
you are slovenly and unattractive and i won't t-t-t-tolerate it.
i will not have this in my home.
no, you don't. you want to condemn me, like everyone else. you want to point to the pathetic, old man grown lunatic with his spending -- trapped in his ridiculous
castle -- still fighting old battles he will never win with pulitzer and roosevelt and hollywood--
there is nothing to understand but this: i am a man who could have been great, but was not.
i'll have to sell the animals.
when will it come out? when will the public know?
ah, miss davies, the times we have seen
i can't sell this. how much are they asking?
yes, i think i shall.
i wonder. do you have any idea what you have done?
intimately. for every sin you have placed on my head i could give you a hundred others. i have been swimming in blood my entire life. but i retain a belief, perhaps you will think it old fashioned, undoubtedly you will, but i believe that private lives should not be public property.
so where does that leave us, mr. welles? what kind of sad future are we two making? a future where men will do anything to sell their newspapers and their movies? a future where no price is too high for fame and power? when we will all scratch each other to pieces just to be heard?