Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

How was Miss Caswell?
Remind me to tell you about the time I looked into the heart of an artichoke.
- What's all over? - The audition.
And I shot my mouth off.
And suddenly you're not saying what you mean, but what he means.
We're having everyone up after the performance.
I've earned my place - out of the sun.
- Where has it been laid out? - It hasn't been laid out.
- Margo again. - And again and again.
Well, I can't yell out "butler", can I?
It's only for the license. There's a three-day wait for blood tests.
Margo, I have lived in the theater as a Trappist monk lives in his faith.
You've talked to that venomous fishwife DeWitt.
You theater people always do. Nothing is forever in the theater.
But how? The answer was buzzing around me like a fly.
Without that, you're not a woman.
- But the raves about your performance... - An understudy's performance.
- What's your being married got to do with it? - It means I've finally got a life to live.
I knew it. I sensed it even as I finished dressing for that blasted party.
Oh, oh.
The four of you must have so much to say to each other with Mr. Sampson leaving.
Here we go...
I've never seen her backstage, but with so many people loitering about... Well, well.
This type is interested in art.
We haven't finished with the embalming.
And you pose as a playwright.
She never was or will be anything less or anything else.
You’re maudlin and full of self-pity You are magnificent
The point is this. In a cathedral, a ballpark or a penny arcade...
How can you take offense at a kid trying to be like her ideal?
Being violently ill to her tummy.
I can't believe my ears!
Everything's all right now.
Well, to the fact that she's so young, so feminine and so helpless.
- You repaid her by trying to win Bill. - That's not true!
"Belong" to you?
- I'm in love with Margo. Hadn't you heard? - You hear all kinds of things.
...what's going on in that feverish little brain waiting in there.
A matter of opinion, granted.
Performance number 1,000 of this one, if I play it that long...
She may be later than you think.
...after all you've done already.
Well, she's on her way with half the men in the joint.
A great actress at the peak of her career. You have every reason for happiness.
Something about the good they leave behind. I played it once in rep in Wilkes-Barre.
I don't see why she hasn't given Addison heartburn.
You should know what it means to want a little peace and quiet.
Oh, Eve! I've heard the most wonderful things about your performance.
I've got a box in the pantry.
Just name it.
Eve... I'm fond of Margo, too. But I know Margo. And every now and then...
- He's the best. - He'll agree with you.
The Sarah Siddons Award is perhaps unknown to you.
Good evening, Mr. Richards. Mr. Fabian.
- Congratulations, Eve. - Thank you, Karen.
- Phoebe? - I call myself Phoebe.
I must say, you can certainly tell Mr. Sampson's been gone a month.
My name wouldn't mean anything. I room across the hall from Eve Harrington.
How can I repay the many others...
And as for being fifth-rate...
I'll just take this to the wardrobe mistress.
- I'm sorry, I didn't... - Outside of a beehive, Margo...
Addison knows how Margo happened to miss that performance...
What else?
Now, don't worry about your little charge. She'll be in safe hands.
Answer my question. Weren't you paid to get out of town?
How could I miss her? Every night, every matinee.
She did like you. She helped and trusted you.
You said yourself my inventory was in shape, all my merchandise put away.
Except that the unreal seemed more real to me...
Oh, Addison, won't it be just perfect?
To find Eve?
- Too bad. - I'm broken up about it.
No sense in sitting here. I'm gonna walk up about half a mile, just in case.
- Remember, Karen? - I remember.
- Well, she's your understudy. - Eve? My understudy? I had no idea.
That ex ship-news reporter. No body, no voice, all mind.
Perhaps more than one. There's so much I want to know. I've heard your story in part.
"I don't understand all these plays about love-starved Southern women."
Those years stretch as the years go on. I've seen it happen too often.
- Who will I ask? - I know all about the party. Eve wrote me.
The remains of Margo Channing...
Eve? My understudy?
Oh, Margo, darling!
Just like that, eh?
...and a professional manure-slinger named DeWitt!
More than anything in this world, I love Bill. And I want Bill.
I was dreadful, Miss Channing. I have no right to be anyone's understudy, much less yours.
Just because you can't even work a zipper!
- The house looks lovely. - I like that girl.
The seams.
What of it?
The playwright doesn't make the performance. It doesn't just happen.
But I will not have you sharpen them on me, or on Eve.
- Hello. - We are ready with your call to Beverly Hills.
Not with me, you're no champion. You're stepping up.
Just like old girlfriends With hats on
- I thought you were going to be late. - Well, I'm guest of honor!
Bill, oddly enough, refused to direct the play at first... with Eve in it.
But I'd never known Lloyd to meddle as much with Bill's directing...
Clyde Fitch, though you may not think so, was well before my time!
- Don't mix your metaphors. - I'll mix what I like!
He is the producer of the play which has won for Eve Harrington the Sarah Siddons Award.
Look closely, Eve. It's time you did.
...how would I do it? I'm less than nobody.
MAX YOU SLY PUSS
...her loyalty to her art...
She thinks only of me...
I have a suggestion. There's really not very much time left.