[birds squawking]
♪ ♪
[engine rattling, turns off]
[wind whistling]
[squawking]
[soft squawking]
♪ ♪
- [brakes squeaking] - [whistle blowing]
[horns honking]
[sniffles] Hi, Marc.
- [elevator bell dings] - Thanks, Marc.
[exhales sharply]
Honey, it's okay. It's okay.
- I'm here. - [gasps sharply]
Mrs. P. needs to be alone.
Go to the movies, would you, dear?
- Yes, sir. - And you know what?
Get Janice and the grandkids, take everyone
to Chitty Chitty Bang Bang at the Paris Cinema,
- and then Serendipity, okay? - Oh--
It's on me.
Dean, none of that fluffy shit, please.
Baby's breath is vomitous.
You have ten minutes, and out the door.
More delphinium.
Martha, leave us alone, please, would you?
- Thank you, Martha. - Thank you.
[door closes]
Tell me everything from the beginning.
- Tell me what happened. - [sighs, sniffles]
Well...
I was in Paris, as you know.
The Givenchy fittings, the shows.
It was perfect.
And-and Hubert,
he did something truly wonderful for me.
[Truman] Well, he's such a master.
[Babe] Yes, he's such a master.
It was really a great work of art.
- I was struck. - [flash bulb popping]
Well, I... I just wished.
I wished someone had been there with me.
Bill, not because it's romantic with him anymore,
but you want to... you want to share these things.
Love him and hate him, all in the same moment,
but somehow,
being in Paris just brought it all to the fore.
[Truman] Of course.
[Babe] See, we have a life, and deep down,
I just keep finding myself rather lonely.
[Truman] I know.
[Babe] He's done the worst thing you can do.
- He's taken me for granted. - [camera shutter clicks]
What is it? What did he do?
I told him I was coming. I gave him just enough warning.
I found out Bill was still having
his grotesque little affair with Happy Rockefeller.
- He was, still? - Now,
- in... our... home. - Go back.
We're talking the governor's wildebeest wife here?
That was still going on?
I thought that was a one-time, at best.
So did I.
- Ew. - But he just wanted
to keep screwing the governor's wife
because he got... he gets a kick out of it.
And this is what is so humiliating.
And that fat-ankled harridan.
Yes!
It's so humiliating to me
because I still do... love him.
He lied to your face.
- Yes. - Mm.
And even though that part
of our marriage has been over for years,
and God knows, I do understand, but there are rules,
certain rules, aren't there,
about how much humiliation one can stand?
- Sure. - Because Happy Rockefeller...
She was always so jealous.
Oh, so jealous.
So jealous.
Here's what happened.
[Happy] Don't you think we should have
at least one last hurrah
before she gets back, for God's sake?
Happy, she's flying back today.
Look, she and I talked, and-and she's right.
It was fun, but... come on.
Well, she's not back yet, and we've been relatively discreet.
I don't know. I don't know.
It's one last fuck for the road, okay?
To take with me.
I want to...
taste you in my mouth one last time.
Well, when you put it that way...
We have some time still.
- Come over. - Happy?
Where you going?
Saks. My hat from Milan just came in.
Oh.
Anyway, I mean, big vision...
[gate creaks]
[Babe] That shitty perfume she wears.
Caleche. Hermes.
[Bill laughs] So...
Too much sandalwood for a woman with her face.
[Bill] Hey, listen, what are you making it so dark for?
I like looking at you. I'll see. [laughing]
[both laughing]
[panting]
[Truman laughs]
What the hell is this?
You ruined my life.
You used me to be the punch line of some sick joke about what?
Being... better than Nelson?
All I know is, I get off the Concorde,
and I walked into that.
You think you can get that stain out
before your cunt wife gets back?
[laughing]
The evidence is all there.
Should I? [laughs]
Hmm. Go look.
What happened?
Was someone shot in here?
Well...
you're gonna need a new mattress.
[Babe laughs]
[Truman laughs]
The menstruating, so calculated.
And you being in menopause.
[scoffs] Which he obviously discussed with...
I'm divorcing him. It's over.
Finally, the final humiliation.
I don't know.
No, no, you're not.
I'm not? What... what do you mean?
Honey, you're not a sexual creature anymore.
Think about it. You have a great life.
He's the most powerful man in America, really.
Fuck Richard Nixon. It's Bill Paley. [laughs]
You have a house in Bermuda, a mansion in Coral Gables,
a thing in London, and four kids.
Don't be another divorcée of Manhattan,
slowly going nuts up in Westchester,
where you'll end up moving to get away from him,
because he's everywhere.
What do you want?
Figure out what it is you want, darling.
I know you've had your eye
on that Van Gogh sunflower painting.
Well, there's a Gauguin,
Seed of Areoi, coming up at Sotheby's.
And a nice Matisse Princess Margaret's trying to lay off.
- Take both. [laughs] - [laughs softly]
Woman with a Veil.
Look, he'll buy you anything you want right now,
so make him pay.
But follow my advice.
Don't tell anyone.
What are you talking about?
You want me to live with this?
- No. Listen to me. - How?
Play this right. This is our secret.
Come on. You had a terrible, long day.
You're exhausted. I know what you need.
- Nice little whopper of a Valium for Baby. - Oh.
- Oh-- - Swallow it. Come on.
No, I promised I'd have dinner with the kids.
- I can't take-- - No.
I sent them to Chitty Chitty and Serendipity
with Sylvia and Janice for burgers and shakes.
Come on.
Nice, big sip of Scotch
to wash it down.
There you go.
Little more. [laughs]
- [sighs] - Good girl.
Come with me.
Come on.
You're a terrible influence, Tru.
[Truman] Follow me.
- Now... - [sighs]
You're gonna take a nice nap now.
- Are you sure they're gone? - Mm.
And when you wake up,
you're going to realize
that everything I said is true.
Meet him at the door with a drink.
- [footsteps retreating] - Be the great lady that you are.
[door closes]
Okay, I'll take a nap if you'll lay here with me.
[chuckles]
[sighs] Oh.
- Well, Tru? - Mm.
I'm so, so, so hurt.
No. Let's be honest.
It's your ego wounded here.
He didn't really hurt you.
You've not been in love for years.
It's your pride.
[Babe sighs]
You're right.
The only person who could ever really hurt me is you.
- And that would never happen in a million years. - [laughs]
Now close your eyes.
[Babe sighs]
♪ ♪
[horns honking]
[horn toots]
[indistinct, overlapping chatter]
[man] Just think about that. Yeah, 7:30 for that.
- Uh, maybe-- - [Bill] I'm not moving Dragnet.
It's fine where it is.
Oh, and tell General Mills to pay up.
We sell their cereal, so pay up.
- [indistinct chatter] - [buzzer sounds]
[secretary] Mr. Paley, sorry to interrupt,
but David Selznick needs to speak with you.
- [distant siren blaring] - [man] Hmm.
David, you better not be canceling on me
at the last minute.
I have the plane, Babe is excited,
we're playing tennis, and it's 82 degrees in Montego Bay.
[David] Jesus, Bill, no.
Jennifer and I are coming.
But, look, wouldn't it be great to have Truman come?
Y-You don't really know him, do you?
Uh, Truman? No. I mean, well, we-we've met.
Yeah, sure, bring him.
Okay, I'll see you at the plane.
Oh, David, David. Is he fun?
Fun? Are you kidding? Truman?
The most fun there is.
Wait till you hear him tell stories.
All right, I'll see you.
[phone clatters]
Harry Truman is fun?
Here he comes.
[car engine idling]
Sir.
- Of course, thank you. - Yes, sir.
Thank you.
- Who the fuck is that? - [laughter]
Hi. So lovely of you to invite me.
I love Jamaica.
I once had a weekend there
with that wonderful actor dancer fellow.
- Jennifer. Look at you. - Truman.
[smooching]
David.
I'm mad at you but I don't remember why.
[laughter]
Mrs. Paley, I've wanted to meet you forever.
It's Babe. [laughs]
As have I. Finally, Mr. President.
- [laughs] - [David] Bill.
This is our dear, dear friend Truman Capote.
Did you think it was the other Truman, Bill?
- I did. - That happens.
- [laughter] - You did?
[laughing] Yes.
What would I be doing with Harry fucking Truman?
Well, thank your lucky stars it isn't.
I hear two hours in a plane with him and his economic theories
and you want to plunge into the Bermuda Triangle.
[laughter]
- Cheers. - Lovely to have you.
What a pretty plane. [chuckles]
♪ ♪
[Truman laughing]
Oh, please, are you kidding?
He had ten boys stashed all over the eastern seaboard
and nobody knew. [laughs]
He was extorted five times.
Cost him a Picasso.
The most expensive hustlers ever.
- [laughter] - You think he'd be more careful.
People are not careful, though.
He had a brief flirt with the Nazi party.
And when I say "flirt," I mean he fucked everything
with blond hair and blue eyes and a cock.
- [laughter] - Well, I could never trust a writer.
And why not?
I mean, I agree, but... why not?
The storytellers have the last word, don't you?
And I would never let a storyteller
have the last word.
Louisa, how fascinating.
But you tell me, dear, who should have the last word?
That is perfectly obvious.
Anyone who's lived through World War II could tell you.
The person who has the most power.
America, for instance.
She had the last word.
Two bombs and it was all over.
Kaboom.
That is the last word.
Not those of a writer of clever stories.
But the ones with the power.
[Babe] What a unique point of view.
[laughing softly]
Would anyone like some more rosé?
[David] Hear, hear.
- [Babe] Thank you. - [flatware clinking]
[laughter]
How do you get all of this gossip, Truman?
On Beat the Devil, he knew more than everyone
in hair and makeup combined,
and that's usually where all the gossip is.
But Truman, holed up in his hotel miles from the set,
he knew everything.
Truman's secret is seduction, isn't it, Truman?
No, it's memory.
Well, I think it's wonderful to know a good story.
To have a good story, to love a good story, personally.
Well, so do I. I think it's everything.
But it's not all fun and games.
[chuckles softly]
You know...
we've been talking about society,
but I'm interested in what it all means, really...
to be important.
Is there anything you know that we don't, Truman?
Because we know an awful lot.
[laughter]
[Truman] Bill... [laughs]
Well, you don't know this.
There's a murderer walking free and you all know her.
And I'm gonna tell her story.
Socialite, B-level.
She married up.
He was going to divorce her, she blew him away.
Wait, who is it? Is that Ann Woodward?
I'm not saying.
I thought it was a tragic accident.
She thought it was a burglar.
Oh, come on, come out of the trenches.
The war is over. That was murder, my dear.
She killed Billy with malice. The police are well aware of it.
Well, how did she get away with it?
[Truman] Are you saying you couldn't?
Billy's mother paid for it to go away.
You know, it's Oyster Bay, they're old money.
They can do that there.
[scoffs]
There had been a string of burglaries all along the beach.
They slept in separate bedrooms,
he'd had it with her.
He'd found out with the help of a detective
that there was another husband
out there somewhere in an oil field, in Oklahoma.
It was over.
It's cold between them.
She doesn't think she has much chance
out there in the world if it gets out
she's a bigamist.
Poor William Woodward Jr.
A virgin GI when they met, I'm sure.
And she was a jazzy little curly-haired killer
from some country slum.
She knew she'd hooked a big one when she met him.
But she never pressed him.
No fancy gifts. Just a letter.
Every day to him, a cozy little note.
He comes back on leave and finds her pregnant.
And of course they get married.
They were at a Wallis Simpson affair the night in question.
Billy Boy needed some Seconal.
It's so funny, it usually was right beside his bed.
Never mind, he knew there was more in the medicine cabinet
in the master bedroom.
A bother, he'll have to go past his estranged wife,
and they'd had a fight at the party.
It was very frosty.
He'd just told her, it seems,
in the car, they were done.
And...
bang, bang, he was dead.
"She thought it was a burglar"?
Oh, my.
Let's call her Bang Bang, shall we?
- Bang Bang! - [gasping]
[laughter]
But let me inform you that is not what happened, at all.
Because the cops did not find him in the bedroom,
they'd found him in the shower.
That's the real story.
And the police knew this?
How is it possible?
The mother, she paid to have it covered up.
No scandal. The children.
Exactly, Bill.
Mr. Bill Paley, ladies and gentlemen.
It was the children.
Tragic enough to have lost their father,
what purpose could it serve to see their mother...
go to jail for murder?
The grandparents wanted Ann to go scot-free
and within their terrain, they have the power
to brainwash cops, reweave minds,
move corpses from shower stalls to hallways.
The very power to control inquests.
His death was declared an accident
in an inquest that lasted less than a day.
And Bang Bang got away with it.
And I'm gonna write it.
[giggles]
And Bill, you should tell your boys over at 60 Minutes
'cause it's a killer story. But let me sell it first.
[laughter]
[applause]
[laughs] No.
No, no.
[applause]
Shall we adjourn?
[indistinct chatter]
My God, he's dazzling.
Invite him to everything we ever have.
[laughs] Next weekend.
Yes, yes, do it, do it.
- [crickets chirping] - [waves crashing]
[distant laughter]
Oh, hello, how are you?
[laughs]
[sighs] You know.
Yes, I do. [giggles]
Yes, you do, don't you?
Tell me about your little locked golden notebook.
- [laughs] - What fabulous secrets it must hold.
Actually, this is just a list of everything I...
do wrong and everything I could do better,
the next time.
-"Better"? "Wrong"? - [laughs]
Whoever put that idea in your head?
Babe, don't you see?
Our mistakes are what makes us interesting.
Do you not worry about anything, Truman?
Oh, sure, money, aloneness, calories...
- [both laugh] - But never about perfection.
[chuckles]
Now, open your golden notebook
and put down this word to the wise.
Tell me.
Next time, seat me next to you.
That's all you need to do.
[chuckling]
I need to tell you something.
I think we're going to be close friends.
I know these things.
How?
Oh, I don't know, I just do.
I'm witchy.
"Witchy."
Well, tell me, Mr. Witch, did you see...
my husband and Miss Europe 1952?
[inhales] I did.
I saw him take her to one of the cottages.
[groans]
What do you suggest I do about it?
Oh, I don't know...
Rise above?
[chuckles softly]
I know about you, I know about your car accident.
Shattered your cheekbones...
How, when they rebuilt your face,
you were suddenly more beautiful than ever,
you became a swan
from an ugly duckling, am I right?
How do you know about all that?
Well, my point is...
the accident was a blessing.
And now there's something else.
You have a new best friend.
[both laughing]
Now let's have a cigarette. [chuckles]
Mm.
May I?
[Truman] Irving, you have to go back
to them and explain.
I need to be given some benefit of the doubt.
I have earned that.
I'm not giving Random House back my advance
for Answered Prayers for failure to deliver.
I will deliver it one day, you know that.
How much do they want from me?
[laughing] $400,000?!
Yes, I know it's the third deadline I've missed.
Well, I'm close, I'm very close,
but this one...
Irving, I'm telling you, you have to explain to them
this is so much harder than Cold Blood.
Well, because I'm writing about society.
It's New York society,
it's a very small needle to thread.
You do not want to get one thing wrong.
What do you mean, Irving, you've heard it all before?
How much have they made from me worldwide?
They'll sue me?
I cannot give back money I don't have!
Tell them that!
[phone clatters]
Oh...
Were you listening?
Why is your coat on? Do we have a dinner?
[Jack] Actually, no.
No dinner, I just don't want to...
be here for this.
It's very clear to everyone
what's happening here while you're stuck.
Oh, go on, Jack.
Why don't you enlighten me...?
- The reason that you can't write the book... - Oh.
...is that you are now no longer a writer,
but rather a full-time, 60-hour-a-week
high-level drunk.
Mm. Well, you may be right,
but that's just the surface, Jack.
Which is what you do so well.
The surface.
But why, why am I doing this to myself?
Is it because it hurts more than you could ever comprehend
to lose something so rare?
Oh, yes, your elite pain is so singular
that no one but you could bear it. Please. Really?
And it's just out of sight, too, I can smell it.
You don't know what the stakes are, you have no stakes.
But for me, it's all of it or none of it.
And maybe, just maybe I lost everything
that made me Truman Capote.
Maybe... Cold Blood took everything I had.
Don't tell me I'm a drunk.
I know it.
But tell me why.
Tell me how to stop it.
Tell me how to be Truman Capote again and I'll do it.
Can you tell me how to be him again?
[ashtray clattering]
No.
But you won't find it this way.
Not with gin or vodka or pills.
No one ever has and no one ever will.
There, I've done my bit.
Well, we can't be sure, can we?
Because sometimes...
after the third wine and...
a couple of pills...
I do feel him right next to me.
The old me.
[chuckles]
[door rattling]
[laughs]
No, and I'm not going to stop chasing him
till he's returned to Mama.
Maybe it's that I haven't drunk enough.
[chuckles]
I intend to investigate that, dear heart.
Okay?
[elevator bell dings]
[engine puttering]
[brakes squeaking]
♪ ♪
[steam hissing]
[door opens]
[door closes]
[sighs]
[steam hissing]
You're Truman Capote.
You're not worried about being recognized?
I'm not him anymore.
Oh. Okay.
You reserve the right not to be molested.
Oh...
I want to be molested.
That's why I'm here.
I want to be molested into oblivion.
Uh-huh.
- Well... - [moans]
We can do oblivion no matter who you are or used to be.
If this is your hustle, don't waste your time on me.
I'm... broken and empty.
Oh, yeah?
You don't think you got a little something for me?
- [grunts] - Well, maybe that's my kink.
You're not gay, are you?
- [scoffs] - This is your thing, right?
I'm not a fag.
I'm not straight.
I just love to come.
My shrink told me I'm a sexual sociopath.
Once, I came nine times in a row going from room to room here.
I went home for dinner and fucked my wife
without any problems.
- What was dinner? - Well...
It was a Friday.
So, fish sticks. [grunts]
Mmm, I love a good Catholic lapse.
Mm-hmm. [grunts]
I used to loathe myself for all this crummy scuzziness,
but now I don't.
I remind myself that...
I used to be beautiful and...
all these louts and tricks and closet cases
are lucky to even be with me in decay.
[sharp inhale] Because...
- I was something. - [grunting]
[both moaning]
[grunts]
[John] Yeah.
[grunts]
Do you always take trade to meet your swans, huh?
- [giggles] - Why do you call them that?
Because they are swans, you...
Beautiful and unruffled above the waters,
stunning, singular, gliding through the ponds of society.
But God gave them too much baggage, you see.
Underneath the crisp surface of the water, they have to...
paddle twice as fast and vigorously
as an ordinary duck just to stay afloat.
[chuckles]
It's a great burden only some can bear.
Oh, yeah? That sounds awful.
It is.
You know, some swans actually drown under the beauty
and weight of their fantastical superficial plumage?
- So what? - They just can't keep going.
Yeah? They all gonna be there today?
Oh, no. [chuckles] No.
That would be too much for you to bear,
a little mortal mallard like you, no.
Only three of the swans will be in attendance today.
The number one swan in the pecking order, Babe.
The most perfect woman ever made.
Her only flaw is her perfection.
She's almost too beautiful to look at.
And her eyes...
they're so smart, they see so much.
And there's no greater WASP.
Just to be around her smooths the rough edges off.
Anyone in her orbit glows.
Her husband Bill Paley treats her
precisely like an employee with no time off.
Even while he's fucking someone else
in a hotel a block from home.
She offered to buy me a house.
But you can't take too many gifts
from these beautiful creatures, or they own you.
And Slim, Slim Keith, came out of dusty poverty
in the middle of rust-fuck California
to marry Howard Hawks
and then Leland Hayward
and then an even sweller swell with all the money in the world
and no discernable personality to interfere with any of it.
[chuckles]
There is no one smarter
or as many steps ahead of you at chess.
And she knows Hollywood like she knows London,
like she knows Paris and Capri,
with her eyes closed.
- You keeping up, John? - Mm.
'Cause you're gonna need to be on your toes, sweetie.
- Please? - All right.
Tell them about the book you're writing, but not too much
'cause they're easily bored. [giggles]
Anyway, also, there will be the breath of fresh air
that is C.Z. Guest.
The most exemplary of the swans.
Really, my dear, she gardens
the way Jascha Heifetz plays violin.
You know, C.Z.'s been able to stretch the marigold season
way into late fall.
The marigolds she grows don't want to fade as summer ends.
They just want to share their great sunlike beauty for her,
as though they were wonderful pets eager to please.
She does this with anything that lives.
Like magic.
It's done through love.
[camera shutter clicking]
[Truman chuckles]
Keep the meter running, please, would you?
We don't want to go in quite yet.
Timing is everything.
[diners chatting]
Anita, hi.
Ian, hi. Take my glasses, thank you.
- Thank you. - This is my friend John.
[diners chatting]
[John] Hey.
[Truman] Watch this.
My darlings, this is the man I've been telling you all about.
The absolutely delightful, entrancing,
marvelous John O'Shea.
How do you do, ladies?
See you started refreshments already.
I can't wait to catch up.
- Thank you, Ian. - [Slim] Welcome to the club.
- Let's get the boy a drink. - Yes, ma'am.
Or two. [laughs]
Thanks. Uh, I will take... Oh, it's for me.
It's so good to finally meet the great John O'Shea.
It is? Okay. [chuckles]
- Thanks. - Sir.
Cheers.
[Slim] When I was in London last week,
I went to a party at Drue Heinz's.
And I got stuck with Princess Margaret.
- Oh, dear. - Hell on Earth, let me tell you.
She's tough sledding. How did you deal with her?
Well, I asked her about Mick Jagger and Mustique.
- [Truman laughs] - [Babe] Her mother's a darling,
- but the rest of that family? - Ah.
Well, Prince Charles may amount to something.
Hopefully. He likes growing stuff.
He gave me a gorgeous courgette once, though.
[John] Is that a car?
[Truman] [laughs] It's a zucchini, sweetie.
[John] Oh.
But nothing like the ones grown by C.Z.
She bathes the little things in milk
while they're still nesting in the ground.
Yes, but it's skim milk, kiddo.
It's the secret to a good green.
[Slim] You know basically royals think there are just three categories.
Colored folk, white folk, and royals.
[laughter]
I mean, you spend any time with his family
and you just wonder how the fuck did they get the prize?
- [laughs] - Thank God for these lunches.
I-I swear I really do, I really actually do.
[laughs] Well, we'll always have these, won't we?
Always because it keeps me sane.
Or semi, as much as it can.
[Babe] Are you sane, though, Slim?
[laughter]
♪ ♪
[chatting and laughing]
[laughter]
[John] Well, the chow in the Navy is not as bad as you might think.
It's not, uh, it's not, it's not this,
but what is that? Whatever that--
- [Truman] That is a piece of chicken. - That's--
Poulet something.
[John] Oh, poulet? Okay, it's not that.
But I... it's where I learned to cook.
And, uh, my, uh... my wife,
she doesn't mind if I go ahead in the kitchen.
I-I make something called a country captain.
It's a chicken dish, but it has, uh, peppers
- and tomatoes, and, uh, it's-- - [Slim] Excuse me.
Before you continue, please, Fierro,
a-another bottle of the Sangiovese, my dear?
[Truman] And a Chablis. Mm.
Yes, go on and tell us more about the country, uh, colonel?
[John] It's, uh... [laughs]
It's "captain." [stammers]
When I come back from the men's room, it's a good recipe.
It's, uh, it's a roux.
You ladies know what a roux is?
A street in Paris.
[laughter]
Ha.
[laughter]
Who wants to go first?
Truman, dear,
are you aware of what a mistake you're making?
Explain yourself, Truman, quickly.
I find it rich that my having an affair,
something all your husbands do without you saying a word...
[Slim] We don't care about that.
Babe says you're making him your manager?
Well, I need help, I tell you,
I need help with the foreign sales,
the book royalties.
Who knows what those publishers are stiffing me on?
And Jack, what does he say about all this?
He's tired, he wants to sit in Sagaponack
and write those terribly polite little books,
he's tired of me after all these years.
You're lucky Jack puts up with
all of your endless bullshit, Truman.
I mean, my God, really.
Oh, Jesus.
John is terrific.
This meat-and-potatoes ruddy, healthy heathen is quite smart.
And he wants to write, too.
[Slim] Of course he wants to write.
Anyone can tell he wants to write.
He's on his sixth glass of wine.
[chuckling]
Never very good.
- [chuckling] - [Truman] Hmm.
She's here, she's staring...
Forget Ann.
Pretend you don't see her.
You're gonna run into her. It's not a surprise.
Look, Truman, we don't care who you screw.
Just don't put them in charge of your life, for God's sake.
It's bad mojo, kid.
- Keep it separate. - Stop being an idiot, Truman.
A complete idiot.
He's a bank teller from the middle of Long Island.
An alcoholic, clearly, who can't dress and who, what,
left his wife and kids to go on a ride with you?
Does that seem like anyone who can...
manage anything?
Why does she keep staring at me?
Maybe it's because you keep telling everyone
she's a murderess and in your new book.
Could that possibly be why?
[Truman chuckles]
- All right, where was I? So, uh, the country captain. - John...
[John] Your, uh, tomatoes and peppers.
You like onions, put onions in, I don't mind that.
- [Truman] Mm, yum. - [John] Sometimes--
Truman, you fucking little piece of shit.
You think I don't know?
I know what you're saying about me.
-"Bang Bang"? - [Slim] Ann,
you really don't want to do this.
- Whatever you're doing... - No?
- ...just don't do it in public, dear, go sit down. - No?
You're telling people that I murdered my poor late husband?
Isn't that slander and libel?
And you're telling people it's in your new book?
Well, if it were not true, it would be libel, Ann,
but it is true.
And we all know it.
And it will be a very interesting chapter.
I don't know why you started this.
I mean, we...
we were close.
Just tell me why.
No, l-let me go, Slim.
No, he's-he's...
I mean, it's... it's torture.
I hear it everywhere!
I don't even know how you can be sitting here with him.
Just tell me why, Truman.
Well...
you know,
I liked you once.
I liked you quite a bit.
But then I heard behind my back you called me a fag.
So...
I thought I'd...
be a fag.
And show you what a fag can do
when he's angry.
When he's very angry.
And when he's been betrayed by someone he actually liked,
- even though I knew what you were. - Truman, sit down.
Ann, you sit down, too.
Even if you are a killer as he says,
he has a typewriter and you don't.
[Ann] I never...
I never called you a fag, Truman.
What I called you was a venomous little faggot.
Now get your quotes right.
Isn't that what you're supposed to be good at?
I mean, what else did he get wrong?
You miserable little faggot.
- [gasping] - [Truman laughs]
All right, that's quite enough. You've had your scene, dear.
- Fuck you, Slim. - That's enough now, really. - Please?
- Let's go out, out there. - You're all a bunch of snakes.
Oh, Ann. [laughs]
Uh, waiter, I think we need a refill here.
[waiter] Yes, sir.
[laughing]
Now, where were we?
- John, you were saying something about a roux? - [coughs]
- Yes, a country captain. - [John] I was, uh...
Just a moment, just a moment, C.Z.
Truman...
you're going to get it wrong at some point, really.
I mean, what you do is quite fucking dangerous.
You see what can happen.
I really want dessert. [laughs]
And maybe let's stay for dinner, too.
I can't bear the thought of going back into the real world.
[laughs]
I thought you said Babe was getting us a car.
I'm sure it slipped her mind.
Hmm.
Don't humiliate me about the subway.
I told you my situation.
[groans]
No, hold on.
[doors rattling open]
Oh, excuse me.
Come on, sit down.
[sighs]
[train doors closing]
[wheels screeching]
So you need to finish your book, huh?
Write about the world you're showing me.
Go on, please.
Truman...
that lunch...
it's gold.
All of it.
Just write it down, the lunch.
Nobody can show us these women, Truman.
How they really are.
You're not blocked.
Just not looking at what you got.
"La Cote Basque."
- Mm-hmm. - Mm-hmm.
[Truman] Mm.
"That's why Ann Hopkins got away with cold-blooded murder.
"Her mother-in-law is a Rhode Island goddess and a saint.
"But it could have been an accident.
"As I remember,
"they'd just come home from a dinner party in Watch Hill
"and gone to bed in separate rooms.
"Weren't there supposed to have been
a recent series of burglaries thereabouts?"
[glass shattering]
"Ann, she kept a shotgun by her bed.
"And suddenly, in the dark,
"her bedroom door opened and she grabbed the shotgun
and shot at what she thought was a prowler."
[gunshot]
"Only it was her husband David Hopkins
"with a bullet through his head.
The end."
Yay!
[Bill] How bad is it? Is it true?
[Hillary] I'm sorry, Bill, I don't know what to say.
There's no doubt
it's you and Babe.
[phones ringing]
[Truman] The name, pronounced by Ina,
was a caressing hiss. To be sure.
Sidney Dillon.
Conglomateur, adviser to presidents...
Especially when he's married to Cleo Dillon,
to my mind the most beautiful creature alive...
Whether he confesses to it or not,
that is why he wanted to fuck the governor's wife,
revenge himself on that smug hog-bottom...
...covered with blood as it was.
- ...make her sweat and squeal... - So was the bed,
the sheets bloodied with stains the size of Brazil.
Doesn't he know who we are?
♪ ♪
You read it?
Nobody...
nobody will know
that it's us.
Nobody will know?
Look, it feels terrible right now,
but it'll go away.
We have to do what we always do.
Pretend?
You think that's the smart move?
And you're right. You're always right.
You know the chess board.
You can... can see so far into the future,
you're so many moves ahead of Truman and me.
Did you see this moment
when you fucked the governor's wife in...
our apartment?
And left me to quietly throw out those sheets
and order new ones from Porthault in Paris,
which I did, and it was all white again.
As it always is, always so...
perfect for you.
Babe, I understand how betrayed you feel, I do--
I wonder which is worse.
You betraying me for years and years
and being so flagrant
and so profoundly disrespectful towards me...
...or Truman's betrayal.
Because I don't know if what we do
is even close to love, you and me.
But I sure did love him.
And I let him in.
'Cause I had nobody.
Look, I promise you we can get through this with our heads--
No.
I am... humiliated.
I am.
My heart is broken.
Don't you see?
It's all true.
His portrait of us, he got it right.
He got it right about all of us, but mostly me.
Oh, my God.
How seriously I took this job,
this fucking religion of us, dying of perfection.
But I have been so angry for so long
and I need you to tell me why did I deserve this?
What did I do to deserve your contempt?
Because all those affairs, Bill, they are,
they are contempt.
That's untrue, Babe, that's not true.
Yes, utter contempt for me!
No matter how perfect the pictures are,
the dinners I curated for you, the guests...
all of it, all of it for you.
Because I did love you.
And you squandered that.
Like I was a television station you just bought up and ignored.
Just another asset.
Like all the other wives and slick husbands
in this... thing that he disembowels.
And he's right.
I turned to him for love.
This...
homosexual court jester
singing for his supper.
[diners chatting]
[sniffles]
Don't know how I'm going to get through this.
They're all staring.
[sniffles]
Everyone knows.
[Slim] Yes, they all know.
[sniffles]
They all know...
that both of us are barely disguised.
- [sighs] - [taps on glass]
- Do you have a light? - Oh, sweetheart.
Every newsstand.
The phone calls. The Post.
Listen, I need to tell you something.
Please don't react.
Ann Woodward is dead.
She knew...
that Esquire was coming out today.
Do you understand what I'm saying, Babe?
Someone slipped her an advance copy.
Ann... committed suicide because of Truman's story.
Cyanide.
At least we're still alive.
Well, I want to die, too.
I do.
No, no, no, no, no. No.
That's enough now.
Now we close ranks, my dear.
Now, no more being deceived by these men.
Truman, the husbands, the men.
Enough.
What...?
[sighs]
He killed Ann.
And we are going to kill him.
He will have nowhere, nothing.
Everyone will see it.
Everyone will watch.
He will have no door open to him.
He will have no oxygen.
[chuckles] And he will die.
Just like Ann Woodward died.
But it will be much slower.
- Oh. - [waiter] Excuse me, Mrs. Paley.
Thank you.
- And for you. - Lovely.
[sighs]
♪ ♪
Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH access.wgbh.org