How are you feeling this morning, Mrs. P?
Would you mind baking some of that banana bread for me?
It's the only thing I feel like.
- Of course. - Thank you, dear.
Oh.
You said this kind of chemo wouldn't cause my hair to fall out.
You've done well, keeping me going for a long time.
But would you--
Would you keep fighting
this room-to-room combat if it were you?
For everyone, it's different.
You have fought long and hard.
How long until it's over?
He said six months?
He used that phrase, "You have six months to live"?
I asked him if I'd make it to Thanksgiving,
and he just looked down and shook his head.
Why is it with these doctors they can't just say it straight?
My father, a surgeon, he gave it with both barrels,
and everyone respected him for it.
Of course, it was Boston and stoic.
Look... ...there's a new drug.
Here's what we do. I've done some research.
Tamoxifen. It's just about to get FDA approval.
-I know who to call. -Yes, yes.
You know everyone, Bill. Yes. We know that.
You know everything.
It's enough.
You keep giving me orders
like I'm the vice president of programming.
Which I'm not.
Jesus, please don't smoke.
What can I do to make you stop smoking?
What can you do to make me stop?
How about you don't do a fucking thing?
No more jewelry.
No more paintings. No more Lucian Freud or Picabia.
No more purchasing my forgiveness or my affection.
You would forgive Truman before me.
The fucking smoking.
Even after they told you you had to stop. Did you wanna die?
Was it so bad with me that you wanted to kill yourself?
Well, Bill, yes.
Could have been worse.
It could have been Librium
but no, it was ciggies and high-end booze.
At least I was a coherent hostess.
That's how I medicated myself.
Medicated yourself from what?
You.
The smoking and the scotch soda
that started the very first hint of dusk or sooner.
How else could it work?
You know what I want?
Some quiet and solitude.
And I want to speak to my-- my children.
I don't know why she won't speak to me.
Because you're cold.
You are.
You are a cold person.
And your daughter feels
that she was a minor consideration in your life.
And that she came after all the myriad ways you had
of showing the world your beauty and your perfection.
Shut up, Paley! For God's sake, won't you shut up?
Were you a model parent
with your barely disguised contempt for your son,
whatever he did?
No.
She won't speak to me because--
Because I chose you instead of her.
No, actually we both chose each other.
Paley.
You've been calling me that for a while now.
First, I thought it was some sort of, uh,
tough affectionate affectation.
But then I realized there was ice all around it.
I think people earn how they're addressed, don't you?
You know, it takes a certain skill to provoke anger
in someone y-you've just broken the news to that you're dying.
I commend that.
This must be the anger stage.
I'll do my best to get Kate to return to you.
She listens to me sometimes.
Well, I think we could make it work.
But the thing is,
he keeps saying that he wants to do a prenup
like he doesn't trust me.
Well, I can understand that.
I mean, he's very successful.
Even Bill likes him.
Those San Francisco society folk are very, very canny.
- Yep. Known them all my life and they're very square.
I like San Francisco. It's rather like Boston.
The question is, do I keep the engagement ring?
I think a prenup is irrelevant. Let's just live for today.
Ah! Yes,
I like that philosophy a great deal.
Just enjoy your life every day.
Joy. Live in a city of joy.
Mmm.
- Speaking of which, CZ... - ...how's Truman?
-Um. -He's been on my mind.
He's not having the best year, I would say.
I'm glad to hear you mention him.
I'm sure he'd love to hear from you.
I miss that laugh.
I'd hold the friendship in a different--
Well, it wouldn't be the same as it was, of course.
Babe, you know, sometimes I think you don't reach out
because of some rage you have at yourself.
Rage?
Hmm. I wonder, maybe.
Maybe you're right.
Yes. You think Lee, Slim and your husband wouldn't abide it.
Hmm. Yes. Perhaps I'm angry at myself
that I can't get past worrying about the propriety of it.
How it would be seen in this crowd,
ending this epic falling out.
Because... ...there's so many people invested in it.
I mean, people write about it.
It's become an absurd play.
What would we do without it?
Babe, that's fucking harsh.
Is it? Really?
I mean, Lee, you think--
Just admit it.
To be seen with him again,
to even speak with him again,
would turn you into a laughingstock
because you've entrenched yourself in this position.
No, this isn't about whose appearances.
It's about the morality of-- Of what?
We've all done some awful things.
And some not so awful, and sometimes to each other.
And we've been capable of moving beyond them,
but when it comes to Truman, no. And why?
God, sometimes I just wish I'd laughed it off when it came out,
and he'd be sitting here right now with us.
And wouldn't that be nice?
Instead of rotting away like the prisoner of UN Plaza?
What are you saying, Babe?
That we are not truly affronted and hurt?
I mean... ...doesn't that matter?
Well, does it?
What if we accepted how little it matters in the end?
Which we will have to, by the way.
But no, to accept his apology would be to surrender.
Maybe we should change the topic.
Yes. I think that's a great idea, CZ.
Now, I think we need a great party.
It's been a long while since we've had a great party.
Hmm.
And I know just how to do it perfectly.
A bright sunny day at Kiluna.
Black irises in one room.
Ranunculus in the next.
There'll be those wonderful black cherries
from Michigan we get...
...but in Limoges bowls on every table.
And the buffet will have great, big platters
of poulet à l'estragon and salmon en croûte.
And the napkins will be perfectly folded
like perfect, perfect flowers
with the flatware just nestled secretly inside them.
And in addition to you ladies,
I will make a very, very special guest list.
Walter Cronkite, Katharine Graham,
George Plimpton, Gloria Vanderbilt,
Nancy Kissinger, Jo--
No, maybe not Joanne Carson.
She's been a little nutty since the divorce.
This is sounding very delicious.
When would this party take place?
Summer. When I die.
You see, this is what I want
for the memorial service after the funeral.
Babe. After the funeral? No.
I have a few months left, and so this--
this is what's been on my mind.
What to do when you're at the end.
Oh, Babe, I thought we had more time.
No, CZ. No tears.
No regrets.
I've done it.
I've had a life.
A little too public in retrospect, but a life.
Now, let's have some of that lemon sorbet.
Yes. Some lemon sorbet and shortbread.
- Of course. Right away. - Thank you.
And some Dom Perignon.
Kate, please.
Kate, she really wants to see you, honey.
I know. I know.
But now is the time to put away
all of that anger and resentment.
Kate, listen to me, honey.
All the times I needed her,
and the total utter lack of interest for me and my life.
You can't expect me to come running
when she finally beckons me as if I were one of the dogs.
No, I won't do it.
I'm not sentimental about it.
But now's not the time to hold on to that.
It's the time to let it go.
You have to understand how she was raised.
She wasn't built to be a mother.
No, I'm sorry.
The Sphinx doesn't need anything from me.
Maybe when you can hear her death rattle. Only then.
Kate, plea--
Thank you, dear.
Mrs. Paley, welcome home.
Hello, Jerome.
Will Mr. Paley be joining us this weekend?
It's only me this weekend.
We've made it very cozy.
Let's get you inside.
Oh.
Not just yet. I-- I want to see everything.
I saw a moth yesterday.
It was trapped inside of a lampshade.
It was throwing itself at the light, desperate to get free...
unaware that the way out was right there,
and all it had to do was look down.
These pages are a chronicle of everything I've done wrong.
Perfection was, for me,
a kind of eternity I thought I could own.
If every detail was in its place,
I thought the world might just come to a stop
and stay that way forever.
But you cannot have eternity,
nor can you own perfection.
You merely borrow it with interest.
I'm packing now for a trip.
Laid out on the bed are all these items
that make up my life.
I can see how useless many of them are.
Status, gloves, scarves, cashmere,
perfection, all piled up.
But what I do have more than anything else is beauty.
Not beauty for the sake of prestige or for stature,
but beauty for the sake of beauty.
My world is suffused with beauty.
I only wish I'd been able to see how much of it there was.
Late lessons, part 50.
We cannot possess the light.
But we can touch it.
Steal it in fragments,
small pieces.
A few moments that are almost perfect.
Hardly enough to fill a thimble with.
No!
"But isn't a thimble full of almost perfect moments
just a nickel shy of the price of eternity?"
You found my diary.
I did.
And I added that last bit about the thimble, but I won't tell.
What's happening? Fireworks?
Yes, dear. On the East River.
They're for you.
We'll go down there ourselves and see them up close.
But first, dinner.
Can't be late now. I've got us the best table at 21. Chop chop.
I'm so glad you're here, Truman.
I'm so relieved that you had the courage to come
after everything that's happened.
Oh, I've given up on holding grudges.
All is forgiven.
But now...
you've got to get dressed.
The diaphanous pink. You loved this dress.
Where did I wear it again?
Nowhere. It never left the house, remember?
Bill got us tickets to the Oscars in 1968,
and it was such an awful snooze.
And we promised ourselves next year
we would get just as dressed up but watch from home.
Oh, yes. That was the year of-of the tie.
That's right. Barbra Streisand and Katharine Hepburn.
They tied for Best Actress.
What a moment to be alive. And these...
The pearls you bought me for Christmas.
Mmm. It was that year I was flat broke.
They're as fake as a Cartier watch from Canal Street.
Yes, but they look so real.
I've switched them out with my good ones just to see.
None of the girls ever caught on.
Beautiful.
Can I tell you a secret? Mm-hmm.
But you'll have to swear not to tell the others.
I'm serious.
I'm famous for my discretion.
What?
Okay, I'll tell you.
You're one of my top three.
Your top three?
Well, I don't know what that means,
but I'm honored to have been selected.
Oh, you don't select your top three.
They are the ones--
They're the ones you collide with.
You smash each other into bits,
get all mixed up and never come apart.
And these three, are they best friends? Great loves?
Not necessarily. Sure, you can love them.
But they're also easy to hate because they're the ones
that most reveal who you are, which can be horribly painful.
But for that reason, you can never really drop them.
You must always forgive them in the end
because they are the most precious resource in life.
And does everyone only get three?
Some people only get one.
Some people get none. Mm-hmm.
That's just my theory anyway. And I like things in threes.
How poetic.
Morning, noon, night. Sun, moon, stars.
Breakfast, lunch, dinner.
The Three Faces of Eve.
Come. I've run you a nice hot bath.
But I've already gotten dressed.
Oh, that's right. Well, then we better shut off that faucet.
Three Brontë sisters. The Three Stooges.
Three sheets to the wind.
Neapolitan ice cream.
Beginning, middle, end.
Am I dead?
Almost.
In your final hour, yes.
But don't worry, dear.
We can stay right here for as long as you like.
I'll wait with you till you're ready.
Ready to see the fireworks.
What if I'm not? What if I'm never ready?
If that's the case, then we'll just stay right here forever.
Let's stay.
- Mmm. - Mmm.
Oh, but there's so much left to do.
I was too late.
I was too late, Truman, to fix it all.
We all are. That's what it is.
And yet sometimes the really important ones do get fixed.
Mother.
You're not too late, Mother.
Enjoy the fireworks.
"And they looked,
and they saw what they had not seen before."
That she was beautiful.
Truman. Truman.
Babe is dead.
I tried calling and calling. You didn't answer.
The doorman let me up.
Oh, I was so worried, Truman.
I have to get to work.
What are you doing, Truman?
What do you have to work on?
Babe's eulogy.
We all knew this moment was coming,
and I've been writing it.
I have the ending in my head.
I just have to get it down.
Why are you doing this, Truman?
Because I knew her better than anyone,
and I'm gonna read it at her funeral, of course.
No, why are you doing this to yourself?
To me?
Please don't make me bear any more awful news this morning.
What awful news?
It's not going to happen.
I talked to Bill.
I really made a case for you.
He's not going to allow you to come to the funeral.
Well, I don't care what Bill Paley will allow.
I will crash it if I have to.
He doesn't own Babe's memory.
You will do no such thing.
Play the tape to the end.
There will be guards there.
They will stop you, and they will hurt you.
But I have to be there.
It's Babe Paley, for God's sake.
She would have wanted it. I know she would have.
I have to read it, CZ. I have to get it out.
Read it to me.
Go on.
"Hello, everyone.
I refuse to say we have lost Babe
because I see Babe almost everywhere."
"The reflection in a window, behind me on the street,
or in the smell of her perfume
on the corner of Madison Avenue bookstore."
"Or the light on the windshield of a car...
because she and I loved car rides.
We loved long drives with no destination.
I can place her in every room in my mind."
"Babe, more than anything,
she loved the journey of all of this.
And that is what I wanted to say to those people who loved her."
"The journey never ends.
We know all her words, her mannerisms, her jokes,
so do what I do.
Keep talking with her and she will, I promise,
talk right back.
We are still on the journey."
"We cannot do this, any of this, without the people we love.
Babe knew that."
"And she never stopped proving that,
even though there might be bumpy nights and dramas,
you cannot get through this life
without simply forgiving
and being forgiven by your friends since they are--
Once they are of you.
Once they are in your heart."
"I am going to learn how not to mourn
but rather to still see her."
"Sometimes when I catch my own reflection,
I see her instead."
"I was at a party.
I was telling a story about a certain person I'd seen
enter an airplane bathroom a dead ringer for Mae West,
and exit looking like Victor Mature."
"When I finished, everybody laughed and applauded.
And then I saw that they were all still looking at me,
eagerly expecting an encore."
"I was alone and surrounded by people,
the worst sort of loneliness there is.
And in that desperate moment, my eyes scanned the room
and there in the back, again, I saw my reflection.
But it was Babe."
"She was me.
She was smiling at me.
And in a look, she said, 'Let's get out of here.'
And so we did.
We rode off into the night under a full moon,
my reflection and I."
"I don't remember where we went,
but I do remember that, on the way,
we never ran out of stories to tell.
And this is my point:
My reflection showed me only the best parts of myself.
And in exchange for her friendship,
I gave those parts to her.
I gave her everything because she deserved it
all."
"And so much more.
Et cetera. Et cetera."
Well, I can't end the eulogy with " et cetera, et cetera,"
so you have to leave now
because I need to finish the ending.
This is so her. Every detail. It's uncanny.
I know. I keep expecting her to come around the corner,
hurrying, fussing over some errant stray flower petal
out of sync with the others.
It's ghoulish is what it is.
Well, now, what the fuck do we do?
I don't know.
But let's face it. It's not going to be easy.
She was the one who made this whole thing work, wasn't she?
She-- She made us show up.
We keep marching.
Like soldiers in the winter in Russia during the war.
Oh, it's not that bad.
We're not-- We're not marching on Stalingrad.
Oh, God, I dreaded this.
I mean, it's much worse than I thought.
I loved her.
The world turns
and Bill Paley is still alive
and rich and single, once again.
Good luck to whomever he ends up picking
because that is not a job for the faint of heart.
Truman would have a deliciously wicked quip in this moment.
He'd throw it like a lawn dart and hit a bull's-eye.
Well, he should have come.
Why not?
It's the curtain call, isn't it? Let him take his bow.
Truman will have the last word.
He will immortalize us all for better or for worse.
Oh, he's finishing Answered Prayers.
He said Babe's death is the final chapter
and then he can die.
"And then he can die." Christ.
How about not dying? How about thriving?
It's not that hard, you know? To thrive.
I always wanted to ask him.
Did it pay off to publish that?
And it didn't pay off, did it? It was a waste.
Okay, look, I'm going to slip out without fuss.
Yes. Me too. Lunch next week?
Yes, we have to. La Côte? How's Monday?
Oh. Doesn't work for me.
I have contractors at Templeton all day. Tuesday?
Oh. A thing in Bedford. Wednesday?
Oh, wait, no. Wednesday doesn't work.
Thursday? I can't.
Oh, well, we'll just keep in touch.
And maybe we should try a new place. Lutèce?
Or, dare we venture across to the west side?
Café des Artistes?
Mmm. Well, we'll figure something out. Okay.
Mmm.
Bye, darling.
Now, can I ask you some serious questions?
Uh-- Mmm, sure.
Have you been drinking?
You mean very lately?
Here's what I'm saying.
You have a problem with alcoholism.
Millions of people have the same prob-- Oh, my God.
I mean, alcohol is the least of it.
I mean, that's the
joker in the-th-the cards.
What is the problem?
It began because I--
My mother-- It was all very simple.
It was one of the most simple,
I mean, kind of cases of anxiety.
Uh--
Well, you know, it was--
My mother was a very beautiful girl
and she was only 17 years old and...
Here's a question I'd like to ask you.
It's a serious question.
And that is this:
What is going to happen
unless you lick this problem of drugs and alcohol?
What is going to happen to Truman?
I'm sure you've thought about it.
Well, you know,
I do for months and months and months and months.
You know, I write and...
But the obvious answer is that eventually,
I mean, I'll kill myself.
Yes.
Without meaning to.
You know where you are?
Don't patronize me.
Hazelden. Minneapolis. You're in detox.
You blacked out on Stanley Siegel's wretched television show.
Your self-loathing and guilt over Babe,
over losing her without ever having been forgiven.
Is that why you did this to yourself on national television?
I better get myself put together for her service.
That was two weeks ago.
The rest of Answered Prayers. It's a love letter to her.
People will see what I meant to celebrate--
There is no Answered Prayers, is there?
There's scraps, there's lines, there's abandoned pages.
Are you judging me?
Careful.
I'm asking for the practical purpose of when you die.
It's going to fall to me to try and produce a manuscript,
and I would appreciate being spared
that particular Easter egg hunt.
I don't wanna die.
That's a lie too.
So much contempt.
Did I hurt you that much?
Contempt is not what this is.
This is goodbye.
I got you here. Goodbye.
The book is real.
All those scraps, I-I just have to put them together.
I met someone.
I'm in love, or as much as I can be after all this.
You have him to thank, actually, for my being here.
For your being here.
I was going to leave you in your own vomit,
sleeping on the living room floor,
but he convinced me that that would be wrong.
Who?
Kid from that bookstore in the Village.
He's way too young for me, but I don't care anymore.
He is kind, and kindness counts, Truman.
Gloating always was a good look for you, Jack.
Fits you like a Cartier watch on a courtesan's wrist.
You fancied yourself a writer, but whatever you wrote,
it was always a chorus boy trying to impress.
The only real dancing I ever did was with you.
Justifying your self-regard as if genius excuses
what a miserable person you are.
To lie, in print, deliberately,
simply to hurt people who care about you. It's--
And where has your high-wire act gotten you?
A dead-end bed in a dead-end hospital.
Goodbye, Truman.
Don't.
Please, Jack. Don't go.
I'm scared.
I only have you, outside Joanne.
And she's-- Well, you know, she's Joanne.
She buys papered lamps from Pier 1.
Tibetan eclectic, for Christ's sake.
She's not Babe. She's not you.
Please. I-I'm sorry.
Don't leave.
Jack, I'm so cold.
You were burning up, but now you're freezing.
Truman, can you hear me?
Can you talk?
What's wrong with you?
Are you in pain? Did you have a heart attack?
Where am I?
You're in California. In your room.
In my house. It's-- It's me, honey. It's Joanne.
It's Joanne.
Don't you remember?
You wanted to come out here an-and dry out,
and-and sit by the pool and-- and write.
I got you all of your yellow notebooks and-- and your pencils
and those good gum erasers.
You remember?
You were gonna finish Answered Prayers.
Truman?
Howdy.
Howdy yourself.
Water's fine. You coming in?
No, no. I was on the last page. I was almost done.
I got you. I got you.
Oh, God. Truman, what have you done?
I'll be right back.
Thank God I've been doing
those Richard Simmons classes.
I have the upper body strength to pull you out of there.
You just keeled over.
Okay, listen, I'm gonna call a doctor, okay?
You just sit tight.
No. No. I'm going.
I've decided I'm going to go to China,
where there are no phones and no mail service.
In a Mandarin pagoda pavilion.
Watching bamboo shoots sway.
Truman, stop. You're scaring me.
You're not making any sense.
I am. And no more hospitals.
I'm very tired.
Truman?
If you care about me, please just let me go.
You're burning up.
Bring me a drink.
No. No more alcohol.
I've been a very bad friend, enabling you.
No more. I'm-- I'm gonna get you
a-- a Diet Rite Cola, okay?
Oh, dear.
911. What's your emergency?
Hello? This is 911. What's your emergency?
Hello?
On one hand, this place desperately needs more light.
On the other,
I hate to call any more attention to this decor.
Poor Joanne. She means well, I suppose.
Well, how is one to get better
when surrounded by such an unfortunate color?
What is this color? Putty?
Ugh.
You don't like it?
It's very Spanish mission meets rancho.
Yes. Yes. We get it, Joanne. California abuts Mexico.
How very on the nose.
Now, sit up.
You need something for your stomach. A blotter.
A blotter? I love when you say that.
A blotter of Ritz Crackers.
Oh, Babe. How I love that.
Yes. After a night of imbibing,
absorbing all that alcohol, all that acid--
-Yes, a blotter. -Mmm.
First things first though.
Hair of the dog.
Oh, heavens.
Joanne went to fetch me diet root beer, if you can fathom it.
Root beer? Please. Are we throwing a pizza party?
Okay. Bad idea. Come on. Let's put that out.
Did you get a slight sunburn?
No, it's a flush.
Your liver and kidneys, that's it.
They're all shutting down now.
And your heart, how swollen it is.
I can hear it. The pumping.
It's not natural. It's becoming an effort.
Yes, I fear that may be the case.
I feel so odd.
Mm-mmm.
Oh.
Babe, your hand feels so soft and cool.
It's just ecstasy, that feeling.
The cool hand of a mother...
or an au pair from Gstaad.
Do you remember that time in Jamaica
when I was so awfully ill
and you stayed up with me till my fever broke?
And in return, I read aloud to you.
Your first draft of Breakfast at Tiffany's.
Of course I remember.
Yes. And-- And when I'd finished, you said--
It's Carol, isn't it?
It is about Carol Matthau.
Nobody else connected the dots.
And you made me a promise then.
I said I'd never write about you.
And I believed you.
People say things.
So be it.
Things get said and then forgotten.
That's life. Most of the time there's no malice, just life.
Babe,
why did you come, really?
I've been calling and calling for years.
Well, I had to, didn't I?
All those awful talk show appearances.
Not a word put to paper.
Somebody had to be there for you.
I had to be there.
Like I was in Jamaica.
You've always been a child who needs his mother.
But my mother left me.
I know. And so did I.
I wasn't there enough for my own children either...
but I'm here now.
Sweet Truman.
I'm not alive, am I?
I'm dead.
You have been for a very long time, Tru.
Just--
Just close your eyes. It'll all be over soon.
And believe me, it's so much better when you let go.
It's so cold.
I'm so cold.
How could this be California?
Hello?
It's over, Jack.
What was it like?
Hard.
You know, it was-- it was just us.
Was you and me for a long time, and then it was just me.
Did he say anything?
He said he was cold. Mother. Mama.
And then he said...
"Beautiful Babe."