Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

I love a psychotic.
- Over my dead body. - That won't be necessary.
That sounds medieval. Something out of an old melodrama.
I shall go to the party alone. I have no intention of missing it.
Strange. I'd become so accustomed to seeing her there night after night...
But Eddie wasn't there.
I won't play tonight.
- She never proved a thing! - But the $500 you got to get out of town...
Eve. Eve, the golden girl. The cover girl.
You're trapped. You're in a tin can.
I'm afraid Mr. DeWitt would find me boring before too long.
Isn't that what they always say?
It is now 5.43. When you ask again a minute from now...
- I'm talking about you and what you want. - So am I.
- You in a hurry? - In a big hurry, so be quick about it.
I didn't promise Eve anything. I said she'd be fine for the part...
The next three weeks were out of a fairy tale, and I was Cinderella in the last act.
Some morning papers carried a squib about Eve's performance.
Margo, this is Eve Harrington.
Because after tonight you will belong to me.
Karen, let me tell you about Eve. She's got everything. A born actress.
Stop rehearsing your column.
- A married lady. - With a paper to prove it.
Well, if I'm not in the way...
- You were saying? - The theater is nine-tenths hard work.
It might've been 15 years ago. It's my part now.
I'd hoped that you would have taken it for granted that you and I...
- Except happiness! - Every reason!
- I placed? - Go ahead, please.
- Macbeth. - We've seen you like this before.
You haven't noticed my latest bit of interior decorating.
- And probably has. - Sable!
...and I went to see it.
Lloyd, I want you to be big about this.
A beautiful and an intelligent woman, and a great actress.
Eve did mention the play, but in passing.
- I'll just clean up the mess. - Don't bother.
Then what would be enough?
Addison, come in for a minute, will you?
Lloyd, we've got to go!
You really have a low opinion of me, haven't you?
Don't underestimate him. You have a powerful friend in Addison.
I'm lied to, attacked behind my back...
To intimate anything else spells a paranoiac insecurity that you should be ashamed of!
- You mixed Margo up with a five-and-ten. - Make it Bergdorf Goodman.
Don't get up. And don't act as if I were the Queen Mother.
Just give him my phone number. I'll tell him myself.
Lloyd Richards, do not consider giving that contemptible little worm the part of Cora!
I shall propose the toast...
If you'll excuse me, I'll go and tell Miss Caswell.
- I don't have to. I want to. - Is it the money?
Who? Who's calling Mr. Richards?
It'll bring me everything I've ever wanted.
Lloyd and Max finally won him over.
You didn't hurt my feelings, Miss Coonan.
But that in itself is probably the reason.
Undramatic, perhaps, but practical.
...to keep the audience from leaving the theater.
Oddly enough, she didn't say a word about Margo.
It is my last wish to be buried sitting up.
I don't think I've done anything to sound off about.
Farmers were poor in those days. That's what Dad was, a farmer.
Margo just doesn't miss performances. If she can walk, crawl or roll, she plays.
Just that she'll be happy to do what she can to see that I play it.
You want an argument or an answer?
Not many cars either. Not much chance of a lift.
Lloyd! Please.
- Promise. - That's my Max.
That Eddie was dead.
"So little", did you say?
Instead, I can't wait for tonight to come. To come and go.
Margo, you by any chance haven't got any bicarbonate of soda in the house?
You see the play? You've seen every performance of this play?
To give so much for almost always so little!
"Even De Mille couldn't see anything looking through the wrong end!" So...
- Miss Caswell, Miss Harrington. - How do you do?
And I'm fed up with both the young lady and her qualities!
Hey, wait a minute! You haven't even said it yet!
Why, if there's nothing else, there's applause.
Mr. Sampson's birthday, I couldn't forget that. You'd never forgive me.
I'd be just another tongue-tied fan.
Her loyalty, efficiency, devotion, warmth and affection, and so young!
Not much.
Why? I'm curious.
Now there's something a girl could make sacrifices for.
...this night could never have been.
Almost four.
Ah... Eve.
I think we'd like very much.
Happy Birthday Steven
I guess I was asleep when you got home.
Well, this beats all world's records for running, jumping or standing gall.
It's good luck before an audition.
Just refer all of Miss Eve Harrington's future requests to me.
- You probably won't believe me. - Probably not.
The names I've been called, but never Svengali. Good luck.
And there was a little theater group there, like a drop of rain on the desert.
- Would you? - Anything to help you out, Max.
...this highest honor the theater knows.
Max! Mon vieux!
Tell me, how did your luncheon turn out with the man from Hollywood?
- That was a pity. - Wanted to explain about the interview.
- And you need her, Max. - What will she do?
A part in a play.
- Where do you suppose it could be? - It'll show up.
They're lovely. Aren't they lovely, Birdie?
In a tin can, cellophane or wrapped in a Navajo blanket, I want you home.
- That word. I don't even know what it means. - It's time you found out.
- What have you got to do with it? - Everything.
Margo, tell me what's behind all this.