#BarbaraPleasePleaseBarbara #Nowirehangersever #MommieDearest
[addressing the men in the Pepsi boardroom]
Joan Crawford: Don't fuck with me fellas. This ain't my first time at the rodeo.
Joan Crawford: Why can't you give me the respect that I'm entitled to? Why can't you treat me like I would be treated by any stranger on the street?
Christina: Because I am NOT one of your FANS.
Joan Crawford: No wire hangers, ever!
Joan Crawford: No... wire... hangers. What's wire hangers doing in this closet when I told you: no wire hangers EVER? I work and work 'till I'm half-dead, and I hear people saying, "She's getting old." And what do I get? A daughter... who cares as much about the beautiful dresses I give her... as she cares about me. What's wire hangers doing in this closet? Answer me. I buy you beautiful dresses, and you treat them like they were some dishrag. You do. Three hundred dollar dress on a wire hanger. We'll see how many you've got if they're hidden somewhere. We'll see... we'll see. Get out of that bed. All of this is coming out. Out. Out. Out. Out. Out. Out. You've got any more? We're gonna see how many wire hangers you've got in your closet. Wire hangers, why? Why? Christina, get out of that bed. Get out of that bed. You live in the most beautiful house in Brentwood and you don't care if your clothes are stretched out from wire hangers. And your room looks like some two-dollar-a-week furnished room in some two-bit back street town in Oklahoma. Get up. Get up. Clean up this mess.
[after discovering dirt underneath a large indoor planter]
Joan Crawford: Ohhhh... Helga. When you polish the floor, you have the move the tree. If you can't do something right, don't do it at all.
Helga: I'm sorry, Miss Crawford...
Joan Crawford: Gimmie the soap. You see, Carol Ann, you've got to stay on top of things every single minute.
[doorbell rings]
Joan Crawford: Carol Ann, will you get that?
Carol Ann: Yes, Miss Crawford.
Joan Crawford: Helga, I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at the dirt.
Joan Crawford: Why do you deliberately defy me?
Christina: Why did you tell her I got expelled?
Joan Crawford: Because you DID get expelled.
Christina: That... is a LIE.
Joan Crawford: [Smacking Christina hard across the face twice] You love it, don't you? YOU LOVE TO MAKE ME HIT YOU.
Barbara Bennett: Joan.
Joan Crawford: Barbara, PLEASE. PLEASE, Barbara. Leave us alone, Barbara. If you need anything, ask Carol Ann.
[laughs bitterly]
Joan Crawford: This is wonderful. THIS IS WONDERFUL. YOU. You deliberately embarrassed me in front of a REPORTER.
[clutches herself]
Joan Crawford: A REPORTER. I told you how important this to me, I TOLD YOU.
Christopher: As usual, she has the last word.
Christina: Does she?
Joan Crawford: [muttering to herself, hacking down the rose garden] Hollywood royalty! Parted friends... everyone already knows! Box office poison! Box office poison! Class! You're... class... you're... class... box office poison! Eighteen years in the business and we parted friends! Creative differences!
[notices the others]
Joan Crawford: Oh... good! I wan't some help here! I want ALL of these branches cleared out of here now. Carol-Ann, Christopher, start clearing away all these branches, start gathering them up.
[to Christina]
Joan Crawford: Go on... get the wheelbarrow and the rake!
[suddenly noticing an orange tree]
Joan Crawford: Tina! Bring me the axe!
Joan Crawford: You drove Al Steele to his grave, and now you're trying to stab me in the back? Forget it. I fought worse monsters than you for years in Hollywood. I know how to win the hard way.
Joan Crawford: Look at this floor. Do you call that clean? Do you?
Christina Crawford: Miss Jenkins said it was clean.
Joan Crawford: Miss Jenkins said it was clean? Do YOU think it's clean? Do YOU think it's clean? Look at that, DO you?
Christina Crawford: Yes, I do.
Christina: There's a liquor store to the right.
Joan Crawford: I should've know you'd know where to find the boys and the booze.
Joan Crawford: Did you scrub the bathroom floor today? DID YOU?
Christina Crawford: Yes, Mommie.
Joan Crawford: Yes, Mommie what?
Christina Crawford: Yes, Mommie Dearest.
Joan Crawford: When I told you to call me that, I wanted you to mean it.
Lawyer: [reading from Joan's will after her death] It is my intention to make no provision herein for my son Christopher or my daughter Christina, for reasons which are well known to them.
Christopher: What reasons?
Christina: (laughing bitterly) Jesus Christ.
Christopher: As usual, she has the last word.
Christina: Does she? Does she?
Christina Crawford: [Christina lectures her baby dolls after making Joan mad] You were very, very bad to wake Mommie up like that. VERY naughty. I told you, Mommie has to be beautiful today. This afternoon, she has to see MISTER MAYER. Today is so important. You are thoughtless and selfish. You must learn to think about other people. You are bad, bad spoiled children.
Joan Crawford: [Joan addresses the fans camped out in front of her house on Oscar night] I would rather be here with you than anywhere else in the world. You, all of you here and everywhere, gave me this award tonight. And I accept it from you and only you. I love all of you. Now please forgive me, good night.
Louis B. Mayer: Joan, my Joan, you're in a position to do me a favor that will be as big a favor for you as it is for me.
Joan Crawford: You don't have to ask! You only have to tell me.
Louis B. Mayer: Good. I want you to leave Metro.
Joan Crawford: Leave Metro? Leave Metro?
Louis B. Mayer: Your pictures one after another are losing money. Theater owners voted you "box office poison". Still for years I've paid no attention. You know me, Joan. I don't give up so easily. We'll pay you off on your contract. But you can't afford to make three or four more losers for us.
Joan Crawford: It's the scripts, L.B. Bad pictures, bad directors...
Louis B. Mayer: Bad with you, good with others.
Joan Crawford: No, listen to me L.B., I have been BEGGING YOU... begging you for a good script. Now you've always given me my share of bad movies because you knew I'd make them work. Well I can't keep doing it, L.B.!
Louis B. Mayer: Listen with your ears and not with your pride. With me, feeling is more important than money. You're a great star! You're Hollywood royalty! But styles change. You'll leave. We have 'creative differences'. Other studios will think they're smarter than L.B., they'll try to finesse me. You'll be offered two, three, four films. You may even get a hit!
Joan Crawford: Will you be sorry then?
Louis B. Mayer: I'm sorry now. But here there's no feeling, no hope. New faces, new voices, breath of fresh air, who knows. Don't do this to yourself.
Joan Crawford: I'll have my maid and studio people clear out my bungalow. I've got a lot of years to collect.
Louis B. Mayer: It's done, Joan. They've packed your things, they're loading your car.
Joan Crawford: You mean everybody already knows?
Louis B. Mayer: That we parted friends because we didn't agree.
Joan Crawford: Will you walk me to my car?
[L.B. doesn't answer]
Joan Crawford: "Hollywood royalty".
[walks out alone]
Christina Crawford: [Entering Joan's bedroom after seeing her dolls are missing] My babies! Someone stole both my babies!
Joan Crawford: [Rubbing skin lotion on her arms] That's good, darling. They were thoughtless, selfish, spoiled children - now they won't wake you up when you need your rest.
Joan Crawford: [after an ugly fight] I didn't mean that, Greg. I didn't mean it.
Greg Savitt: Get up. There's no camera in here.
Joan Crawford: Greg, where ya goin'?
Greg Savitt: Where I belong. Out of here.
Joan Crawford: You belong here. I'm waitin' for ya.
Greg Savitt: Good night, Joan.
Joan Crawford: Please don't leave, because if you do, you'll never come back in again, no matter what you say, or ask, or do.
Greg Savitt: I'll always wish you well, Joan. And I'll only speak well of you.
Joan Crawford: Please don't go! Don't leave me here alone. Please.
Greg Savitt: If you're acting, you're wasting your time. If you're not, you're wasting mine.
Joan Crawford: I'm not actin'! I'm not actin'.
Greg Savitt: Good night. Good luck. Goodbye.
Joan Crawford: I'd rather you go bald to school than looking like a tramp.
Joan Crawford: Why must EVERYTHING be a CONTEST?
[at a press conference on her wedding day]
Joan Crawford: You know, a few minutes ago a reporter asked me what I thought and how I would describe the marriage between the soft drink King and the Queen of Hollywood. I told him I thought it was a hell of a match.
Alfred Steele: That's my Pally.
Joan Crawford: Oh, "Pally". That's what he calls ya when he can't remember your name.
Alfred Steele: Don't let her kid you, I remember her name. It's Mrs. Alfred Steele. Right, Pally?
Joan Crawford: Right.
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