We've got the files today on a Hollywood figure
who didn't just break the mold. She, well, she
pulverized it and then smoked a cigarette over
the rubble. That's a pretty good way to put it.
We are talking about Ruth Elizabeth Davis, better
known globally and, I mean, eternally as Bette
Davis. And if you're looking for sort of a shortcut
to understanding this incredibly complex, often
ferocious icon, I think the key thing to know
about Davis is the paradox. The paradox. Right.
She didn't achieve immortality by being sweet
or easy or sympathetic. Actually, it was the
exact opposite. She actively avoided those roles.
She sought out the tough ones. She deliberately
sought out the harsh, the sardonic, the complex
and, you know, the downright vicious characters.
And that's really the core tension we're diving
into today. You sent in sources that cover her
entire career. And the main question you wanted
to explore is how that ferocious independence
and that combative nature. That refusal to. be
romanticized exactly how that translated into
one of the most celebrated and long -lasting
careers in all of cinematic history well and
the success it really speaks for itself her filmography
is just It ranges across crime melodramas, historical
epics, period pieces. But her greatest triumphs,
the roles that really earned her that iconic
status, they were those intense women's pictures
and romantic dramas where she just absolutely
refused to play the victim. OK, so let's start
with the hard numbers, because when you lay them
out, they are genuinely astounding. They really
are. She won the Academy Award for Best Actress
not once, but twice. First for a film called
Dangerous. And then for her. Just masterful performance
in Jezebel. And maybe more importantly, she set
this incredible professional benchmark. She was
the first person ever to accrue 10 Academy Award
nominations for acting. Ten? That's a record
that stood for decades. For decades, yeah. And
that's not even counting a highly controversial
write -in nomination very early in her career.
I mean, that's a testament not just to raw talent,
but to strategic career management across multiple
decades in a brutal, brutal industry. And the
industry itself, despite all the fighting she
did against it, well, eventually had to bow down.
It had no choice. They recognized that longevity
and that raw power. They made her the first woman
ever to receive a Lifetime Achievement Award
from the American Film Institute. That was in
1977. And, you know, in terms of sheer cultural
magnitude, the AFI later ranked her second only
to Katharine Hepburn on their list of the greatest
female stars of classic Hollywood cinema. Second
only to Hepburn. You just you cannot discuss
the golden age of Hollywood without placing Bette
Davis in an absolute top tier. But as you alluded
to, that recognition came with a reputation that,
I mean, it precedes her even today. We're exploring
the person who was known as a ruthless perfectionist.
And highly combative. Right. Highly combative.
And that meant confrontations with everyone,
studio heads, directors, and especially her co
-stars. Oh, yeah. Her public persona, that forthright,
often cutting manner, the crisp, clipped vocal
delivery, and of course, the omnipresent cigarette.
It was essentially the uniform of an artist who
absolutely refused to compromise. And I think
that's the essential question we're going to
explore today. What was the actual cost of being
Bette Davis? She built this legendary career
on being tough and uncompromising. And that toughness,
while it was her greatest professional asset.
It became her deepest personal liability. Exactly.
Okay, let's unpack this journey because the start
of her career was anything but easy or charmed.
Not at all. She was born Ruth Elizabeth Davis
in Lowell, Massachusetts in 1908. And she made
a very early, very intentional move that I think
defined her professional identity. You're talking.
at her name. Yeah, changing the spelling of her
first name to Beck with an E. She took inspiration
from Balzac's really strong -willed character,
Bette Fisher, in La Cousine Bette. And the irony
is that this ambitious, you know, literary -minded
young woman was just immediately hit with rejection.
Right out of the gate. Right out of the gate.
She tried to enroll in Eva Le Gallien's prominent
acting school and the theater legend. Well, she
famously turned her way. On what grounds? Claiming
Bette had an insincere and frivolous attitude.
It must have been a crushing blow to hear that
you're just not serious enough for the craft
you wanted to find your entire life. But she
didn't quit, though. Her first paid acting role
was actually incredibly humble. It really was.
A one -week stint as a chorus girl in the play
Broadway. This was in George Cukor's stock company.
It just shows she was willing to start at the
absolute bottom doing the work despite those
early dismissals. And that grit was immediately
necessary because her entry into Hollywood in
1930 was, well, it was less a glamorous debut
and more a series of profound humiliations. She
moved out west, right, inspired by stars like
Mary Pickford. Yeah, this wholesome, picture
-perfect image. But upon arrival at Universal
Studios, she and her mother... They weren't even
met at the train station. Why not? Because the
studio employee who was sent to wait for the
star, he couldn't spot her. He later explained
he saw no one who looked like an actress. Wow.
I mean, that phrase, didn't look like an actress.
That became the defining insult she fought against
her whole life. It really did. And it gets so
much worse. This leads directly to the infamous
screen test incident, which is just shocking
in its objectification. So what happened? She
not only failed her first test, but the studio
then used her simply as a test subject. A test
subject for what? For 15 other male actors who
needed someone to, and this is her quote, lie
on top of me and give me a passionate kiss just
so they could practice their technique. 15 guys.
That is just brutal. The sheer brutality of that
welcome to the industry, the lack of respect,
the casual way she was used as a prop. It's astounding.
Davis later recounted the sheer misery and awkwardness
of it all, feeling like she would die of embarrassment.
So the system was basically telling her from
day one that she was physically undesirable and
professionally useless. Exactly. And the hits
kept coming, even from the top brass. She overheard
the chief of production, Carl Lamley Jr., make
this devastating comment about her having about
as much sex appeal as Slim Somerville. And for
context, who was Slim Somerville? He was a homely,
cross -eyed male comedian who co -starred in
her first film, Bad Sister. I mean, it was a
cutting, deeply personal assessment that she
never, ever forgot. It's a brutal initiation.
It really was. After one year and six unsuccessful,
forgettable films, Universal just elected not
to renew her contract in 1932. She was literally
packed, ready to go back to New York, feeling
like a total failure. But here is where the breakthrough
happens, and it's driven entirely by a fellow
actor recognizing her potential. Right, George
Arliss, a celebrated star of the time. He chose
her for a lead role in a film called The Man
Who Played God. And that was her lifeline. It
was everything. That film landed her a five -year
contract with Warner Bros., which was a studio
relationship that would ultimately last for 18
highly volatile, explosive years. And the nature
of that relationship was really defined immediately
by her first major critical success, which was
on a loan out to RKO. Of Human Bondage, 1934.
This is the ultimate aha moment that defines
the Bette Davis brand. She chose to play Mildred
Rogers. the vicious and slatternly waitress who
just destroys Leslie Howard's character. And
the reason this was so significant was that nobody
else wanted the role. Almost every other major
actress in Hollywood refused it. And why the
refusal? Because it was so fundamentally unglamorous.
Exactly. That's it. Required a leading lady to
be cruel, unlikable, and ultimately... to look
ravaged by poverty and illness. And she saw that
as a challenge. The ultimate artistic challenge.
It was a declaration of war against the vanity
that was required of Hollywood starlets at the
time. She insisted on portraying the character
realistically, understanding the brutal aesthetic
of suffering. She had that great quote about
it. Yeah, she famously said, the last stages
of consumption, poverty, and neglect are not
pretty, and I intended to be convincing looking.
And the critics went wild for it. They were immediately
captivated by this commitment to authenticity.
They called it probably the best performance
ever recorded on the screen by a U .S. actress.
This stellar work, however, led to one of the
biggest political crises in the history of the
Academy Awards. A huge one. She was contentiously
not nominated for Best Actress that year. And
a huge public uproar ensued, driven by critics
and fans who just could not believe her tour
de force was ignored. The public backlash was
so intense that the Academy president had to
intervene publicly. He announced this temporary
and ultimately game -changing rule. The write
-in ballot. The write -in ballot. It allowed
voters to write on the ballot his or her personal
choice. This was completely unprecedented. And
although Davis didn't win that year, the turmoil
she caused directly led to a permanent overhaul
of the voting procedures the following year.
So they changed the whole system because of her.
They moved the voting power from a small often
politically motivated committee, to a full branch
vote, habulated independently by Price Waterhouse,
all because of the snub forma of human bondage.
Think about that impact. A single actress's controversial
snub forced a major institution to fundamentally
democratize its entire process in less than a
year. That's how profound her influence was,
even when she was, you know, technically losing.
She did end up winning her first Oscar the following
year for Dangerous. Yeah. A film from 1935. It
was a win she later admitted she considered a
kind of consolation prize. For the bondage snub.
Exactly. And just to throw in a piece of fun
trivia, she is the one who claimed she gave the
statue its familiar nickname, Oscar. After her
husband. After her first husband's middle name,
Harmon Oscar Nelson. And speaking of that first
marriage, it provides the first really tangible
evidence that her rapidly accelerating professional
success was already putting a huge strain on
her private life. Oh, yeah. The financial disparity
was enormous and the press scrutinized it constantly.
She was earning $1 ,000 a week while Nelson was
earning $100. And this brings us to a crucial
piece of historical context, which is the application
of community property law at the time. Right.
It's a key point. Even though Davis was the clear
breadwinner, I mean, earning 10 times his salary,
the prevailing law often dictated that the husband
maintain legal control over the couple's joint
finances. So he controlled her money. He wielded
that power to prevent her from buying a house
until he felt he could afford it. It was a means
of control, a way of ensuring that his financial
inferiority didn't translate into a loss of traditional
patriarchal authority in the marriage. That is
just deeply frustrating. She's out there fighting
the entire studio system for artistic control
only to come home and face a husband who controls
her finances using the legal system. And the
pain extended far beyond money. Davis had two
abortions during this marriage, both insisted
upon by Nelson. Which just highlights the extent
of the control exerted over her body and her
life, despite her burgeoning fame. This relationship
was really the first casualty of the success
she pursued so ruthlessly. Okay, so this is where
the story of Bette Davis just explodes from personal
drama into a massive industry -wide landmark
event. Contract showdown. That simmering tension
between Davis, her salary demands, and the restrictive
studio system of Warner Bros. culminated in a
legendary contract showdown of 1936. And this
was a battle over so much more than money. Davis
felt she was being assigned, well, garbage scripts
that were unworthy of the status she had earned.
With performances like of human bondage. Exactly.
So she refused these poor film offers like God's
Country and The Woman in Mountain Justice. She
demanded a salary increase from about $1 ,250
to a still modest $3 ,500 per week. And Warner
Bros., under the notoriously stingy Jack Warner,
responded exactly as you'd expect. They suspended
her. They suspended her, effectively halting
her income until she agreed to work. But Davis
wasn't having it. She took radical action. She
abruptly packed up and traveled to England. Once
she was there, she signed a deal with a British
company to make a film called I'll Take the Low
Road. So this was a direct brazen attempt to
just bypass her Warner Bros. contract by working
outside U .S. jurisdiction. It was. And Warner
Bros. was furious. They immediately filed a legal
injunction in the British courts. And the resulting
court case was the stuff of legend. It became
a landmark ruling on the power of the studio
system. And Warner Bros. won the case decisively.
Justice Branson, who oversaw the proceedings.
He pulled no punches. What did she say? His summation
was just brutal. He dismissed her claims that
she was an underpaid slave, and he ruled that
she breached the contract for no discoverable
reason except that she wanted more money. So
she lost? She lost big. Davis was ordered to
pay a staggering $80 ,000 in restitution and
legal fees. For her personally, it was a massive
financial and legal defeat. Yet here is the huge
paradox that defines her mid -career. Although
she definitively lost that legal battle, having
her name plastered across international headlines
for standing up to the oppressive studio system
was a monumental public relations victory. Absolutely.
It signaled to audiences that she was fighting
for quality, she was fighting for artistic control,
and she was fighting against corporate control.
She would return to Warner Bros., financially
bruised, but, I mean, reputationally stronger
than ever. She had established, in the most public
way possible, that she was a fighter who would
risk everything for her principles. And the studio...
Well, they had to reward this new level of stardom.
And rewarded they did. She immediately starred
in Marked Woman in 1937, a role that earned her
the Volpe Cup for Best Actress at the Venice
Film Festival. And then came the definitive Southern
Gothic performance that earned her her second
Academy Award. Jezebel. Jezebel in 1938. where
she plays the strong -willed, often spiteful
Southern Belle. It was a masterpiece. And it
was also where she entered into a professional
and romantic partnership with the director, William
Wyler. Who she later called the love of my life.
The combination of Wyler's meticulous direction
and Davis's ferocious intensity was just electric.
It often resulted in these spectacular, complex
performances. And that period cemented her as
the studio's most profitable star. She became
a consistent fixture on the quiggly poll of the
top 10 money -making stars. Which, for context,
was the era's definitive annual measurement of
pure box office power and bankability. She was
a guaranteed hit. And this success wasn't fleeting.
I mean, she went on this unbelievable run, receiving
five consecutive Best Actress nominations from
1938 to 1942. For films like Dark Victory, The
Letter, The Little Foxes, and now Voyager, she
was, you could argue, the most critically recognized
actress in the world during that stretch. This
era also saw her embracing astonishing transformation
and risk. And it was driven by this guiding philosophy
she learned from the actor Charles Lawton. Right,
that Flemish quote. He told her, Never not dare
to hang yourself. That's the only way you grow
in your profession. You must continually attempt
things that you think are beyond you or you get
into a complete rut. And she lived that quote
fearlessly. I mean, consider the private lives
of Elizabeth in Essex in 1939. Right. At the
peak age of 30, when she could have played the
most glamorous ingenues, she chose to portray
the 60 -year -old Queen Elizabeth I. And she
went all in. She went so far as to shave her
hairline and eyebrows for the role. is an almost
unheard of sacrifice of vanity for a major female
star at that time. It just shows she prioritized
the artistic growth Lawton spoke of over marketability.
And it was during this run that she delivered
what she considered her personal favorite performance.
Dark victory. Dark Victory from 1939, where she
played a wealthy socialite who discovers she
has a malignant brain tumor. It required a level
of emotional vulnerability and gravitas that
truly showcased her range beyond just playing
the harpy roles. And her uncompromising nature
wasn't confined to the sound stages either. No,
it definitely wasn't. In 1941, she became the
first female president of the Academy of Motion
Picture Arts and Sciences. This was a position
of immense authority, and she approached it with
her typical bulldozer energy. didn't last long.
She resigned pretty quickly because she antagonized
the committee with what they called her brash
manner and radical proposals. This is a key piece
of information about her personality outside
of acting. What exactly were these radical proposals?
I mean, what was she trying to do? She didn't
just want to preside. She wanted to reform the
entire institution, make it more democratic,
less beholden to studio politics. So what did
she propose? Her specific proposals included
ending the practice of hosting the ceremony on
the studio lots, which she felt reduced the event's
prestige and made it too much of a studio promotional
tool. She wanted a neutral, formal venue. Exactly.
And she also wanted to abolish the common practice
of presenting the awards via speeches that often
lauded the studio heads rather than the artistic
achievements of the recipients. So she tried
to take the biggest political machine in Hollywood
and force it to be independent. and artistically
pure. Of course they kicked her out. That uncompromising
attitude applied even to boardroom dynamics,
which the establishment just wasn't ready for
in a woman. However, her most powerful and long
-lasting authoritative role outside of acting
was born from the necessities of World War II.
Right. In 1941, she co -founded the legendary
Hollywood Canteen with the actor John Garfield.
And the Hollywood Canteen was extraordinary.
It provided a place for millions of traveling
servicemen to eat, dance and be entertained entirely
for free. And all the food and entertainment
was provided by celebrity volunteers. Davis essentially
ran the organization, serving as its canteen
president throughout the war. And this was not
a passive role. She worked tirelessly. scrubbing
floors, serving food, dancing with thousands
of soldiers, and managing the relentless flow
of celebrity volunteers. Her dedication was immense,
and it wasn't forgotten. She received the Distinguished
Civilian Service Medal in 1983 for this massive
effort. It just shows that when her notorious
energy was channeled toward a genuinely altruistic
goal, it could be incredibly powerful and effective.
But even as she was running this massive organization
and filming iconic pictures, the personal turmoil
continued. Her second husband, Arthur Farnsworth,
died suddenly in 1943 from an accidental skull
fracture sustained weeks earlier. Davis was just
devastated, and her grief spilled over onto the
set. During the filming of Mr. Skechontin in
1944, her behavior became notoriously erratic.
She was demanding dialogue changes, refusing
to film scenes, forcing sets to be rebuilt. And
while critics called the resulting performance
marathonic, it still earned her another Oscar
nomination. Davis herself explained this manic
work ethic as a coping mechanism. She noted,
when I was most unhappy, I lashed out rather
than whine. It was how her intense personality
processed trauma. And we can't forget one of
her most iconic roles from this period. Now,
Voyager from 1942. It was a defining women's
picture, famous, of course, for that highly stylized
two -cigarette scene with Paul Henreid. Oh, that
scene became cinematic shorthand for elegant
romance and defined her enduring appeal to female
audiences. Okay, so moving into the post -war
era, we witness a familiar struggle in Hollywood.
The decline of the powerful studio star system
and the subsequent identity crisis for the stars
who defined it. Davis definitely hit a significant
dip in the late 1940s. And she recognized the
shift. She tried to take greater control by forming
her own production company, BD Productions, for
the film A Stolen Life in 1946. And that film,
although it was a massive box office hit, Critics
absolutely savaged it. They called it overly
melodramatic. And soon after, the audience's
shifting tastes caught up with her. Her film
Deception, also in 1946, became the first of
her films to actually lose money for Warner Bros.
Which was a clear sign that her formula was becoming
stale. The notorious tension with co -stars ratcheted
up during this period, too. It was often fueled
by old rivalries. Her decades -long feud with
Miriam Hopkins resurfaced during the filming
of Old Acquaintance in 43. That feud was just
notorious. In one scene where Davis' character
was supposed to shake Hopkins' character, Davis
later confessed that she held back nothing. So
she really shook her. She essentially delivered
a genuinely violent shake, fueled by years of
professional and personal animosity. The set
was a pressure cooker. And even though she was
still commanding these incredible salaries in
1949, she negotiated a four -film contract paying
over $10 ,000 per week. Which made her the highest
-paid woman in the U .S. at the time. Right.
But the artistic fulfillment just wasn't there.
She clashed constantly with Jack Warner because
he refused to give her script approval. And that
refusal led directly to her professional low
point, her last Warner Bros. film, Beyond the
Forest, in 1949. And the reviews were nothing
short of scathing. Hedda Hopper, the powerful
columnist, called it an unfortunate finale to
her brilliant career. It was so bad, so critically
derided, that Davis actually asked to be released
from her contract early, and Warner Bros. immediately
agreed. The only thing the film is really remembered
for is the delivery of that one single line.
What a dump. What a dump, which instantly became
associated with her... theatrical, slightly over
-the -top persona. It even showed up later in
plays like Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? And
that marks the end of her studio career, and
it looked bleak. But you simply cannot count
Bette Davis out. This low point was immediately
followed by one of the greatest career comebacks
in Hollywood history. All About Eve, 1950. She
took on the role of Margot Channing, the fading,
tempestuous Broadway star, a part that felt frighteningly
close to her own reality. She famously called
the script the best she had ever read. It was
a role she was born to play, embodying all the
ferocity, the anxiety, and the aging insecurity
of a powerful woman in a youth -obsessed industry.
And it delivered massive critical and commercial
acclaim. It earned her Best Actress awards at
the Cannes Film Festival and from the New York
Film Critics Circle. The director, Joseph L.
Mankiewicz. was reportedly astounded by her professionalism.
He called her letter perfect. So all that talk
about her being difficult. On set, she was prepared.
She was flawlessly intense. The public perception
of the difficult actress translated directly
into unforgettable work. And, of course, it gave
us one of the most quotable, defining, and imitated
lines in cinematic history. Fazz in your seatbelts,
it's going to be a bumpy night. That single line
is Margot Channing, and Margot Channing is Bette
Davis. They're permanently intertwined. The success
of All About Eve truly cemented her career recovery
and proved she could thrive outside the declining
studio system. But as her career stabilized,
her personal life remained incredibly turbulent.
She married Gary Merrill in 1950, her fourth
and final husband. And he adopted her daughter,
B .D. Sherry, and then they adopted two more
children, Margo and Michael. But that attempt
at family stability was tragically short -lived.
Their adopted daughter, Margo, was diagnosed
as severely brain damaged and eventually had
to be placed in an institution around age three.
And the marriage itself was rocky. Extremely.
Beattie later recounted difficult episodes of
alcoholism and the frequent explosive arguments
between Davis and Merrill. The pressure she endured
professionally was just mirrored by chaos at
home. Her career in the early 50s reflected this
instability. She got another Oscar nomination
for The Star in 1952, playing a fading actress.
A role many saw as a thinly veiled parody of
her longtime rival, Joan Crawford. Right. But
after that, the rest of the decade saw very few
successful films, like Storm Center or The Catered
Affair. And critics began to turn on her, citing
her acting style for overt, excessive mannerisms.
Essentially, the powerful techniques that made
her a star in the 30s and 40s began to look histrionic.
and dated in the minimalist, emerging style of
the 50s. And her marriage deteriorated under
this pressure, ending in a messy divorce in 1960.
It appeared, once again, that the combative intensity
she brought to the screen ultimately translated
into deep dysfunction in her private world. And
this brings us to the second spectacular and
perhaps most notorious phase of her career. The
horror resurgence. The horror resurgence of the
1960s. When meaningful dramatic roles dried up,
she found the perfect vehicle for her enduring
intensity in the psychological horror genre.
And we are talking, of course, about whatever
happened to Baby Jane. in 1962. She played the
demented former child star Baby Jane Hudson alongside
her genuine decades -long vicious rival Joan
Crawford. This wasn't just casting. This was
a cultural event built on real -life tension.
And Davis was shrewd. She negotiated a 10 % share
of the worldwide gross profits on top of her
salary. She knew that the central rivalry, combined
with the excellent script, gave them a goldmine.
And the film became a huge success. It capitalized
on that psychological shift in cinema audience
tastes that had followed films like Psycho. And
the onset feud between Davis and Crawford is
absolutely legendary. It went far beyond mere
professional tension. They publicly praised each
other. Oh, yeah. They praised each other's acting
in public. But behind the scenes, it was pure
calculated malice. OK, so give us the details.
How did they actually sabotage each other? Well,
one of the most famous incidents involves the
scene where the Baby Jane character, played by
Davis, drags the paralyzed Blanche Hudson Crawford
across the floor. Right. Crawford, fully aware
that Davis was struggling with severe back problems,
intentionally made herself as heavy as possible
for the takes. She weighted herself down to make
the drag excruciatingly difficult and agonizing
for Davis. And Davis, true to form, she retaliated
in kind. She did. During the scene where Jane
beats Blanche, Davis actually connected. She
hit Crawford hard, something Crawford later bitterly
complained about. They weren't just acting out
a rivalry. They were living it. And you could
argue that authentic tension fueled the film's
intensity and its success. But the height of
the passive -aggressive warfare came at the 35th
Academy Awards. Davis received her final Academy
Award nomination for the role, a huge career
milestone. But she didn't win. Anne Bancroft
won. Right, but when Anne Bancroft was announced
as the winner, Joan Crawford, who hadn't even
been nominated, swept in. And she accepted the
Oscar on Bancroft's behalf, having prearranged
it with several of the absent nominees. It was
a calculated, petty, brilliant piece of real
-life theater. Crawford literally stepped into
the spotlight that Davis had earned, forcing
Davis to watch from the audience as her arch
-rival stood on the stage holding the golden
trophy. It's the ultimate example of the deep
-seated malice that defined that relationship.
It was so effective that when the studio attempted
to reunite them for the follow -up, hush, hush,
sweet Charlotte, Crawford abruptly quit. Citing
illness, but it was probably just spite. Many
believed it was. She was eventually replaced
by Davis' longtime friend, Olivia de Cavilland.
Yet, despite this resurgence, securing steady,
quality work was still a challenge for an actress
her age in the mid -1960s. And this vulnerability
led to one of the most famously candid acts of
her career. In 1962, she placed a frank advertisement
in the trade publication variety. Under the heading,
Situations Wanted Women Artists. And the text
was brutally honest. It read, Mother of 3, 10,
11, and 15 divorcee. American. 30 years experience,
once steady employment in Hollywood, has had
Broadway. It's just a shocking, vulnerable, yet
brutally honest request from a star of her magnitude.
It laid bare the reality that even an industry
titan had to hustle for work when the system
was done with her. She found stability in television,
appearing in guest roles in westerns like The
Virginian and in Perry Mason. But for an entire
new generation who might not have seen Jezebel
or All About Eve, Bette Davis' name exploded
back into pop culture in 1981 via a very unlikely
source. A hit song. The Kim Carnes effect. Bette
Davis' eyes. It became a worldwide smash. winning
two Grammy Awards for Song and Record of the
Year. And Davis, by all accounts, was delighted
by the tribute. She viewed it as a massive compliment
and even wrote to Carnes and the songwriters.
She joked that finally her grandson was impressed
that she was the subject of a hit song. Yeah.
Unfortunately, the final chapter of her life
was defined by immense personal pain and betrayal.
It really was. In 1983, she was diagnosed with
breast cancer and underwent a mastectomy. And
this was followed shortly by four debilitating
strokes that caused paralysis in the left side
of her face and arm and left her with slurred
speech. But she was a fighter until the end.
She went through lengthy, grueling physical therapy
and partially recovered. But upon returning to
health, she faced the ultimate betrayal. one
that was far more damaging than any studio suspension
or feud with another actress. Her daughter, B
.D. Hyman, who had become a born -again Christian
and had long clashed with her mother, published
a memoir. My Mother's Keeper. And the book was
a scorching attack, depicting Davis as overbearing,
selfish, and frequently drunken. It was a portrait
that utterly devastated her. And the reaction
from those closest to Davis was swift and fierce.
Oh, yeah. Close friends and even her ex -husband,
Gary Merrill. They publicly defended Davis. They
accused Hyman of being motivated by cruelty and
greed, pointing out the years Davis had financially
supported the entire family. Davis, shattered
by the public nature of the attack, responded
in the most betting Davis way possible. Publicly
and combatively. She disinherited B .D. and wrote
her own memoir, This and That, in 1987. And she
made sure she reserved the final page for a devastating
cutting letter to Hyman. Which concluded with
a reference to the book's title. Exactly. It
said, I've been your keeper all these many years.
I am continuing to do so as my name has made
your book about me a success. It was a final,
perfectly worded act of combative spirit. even
in her worst personal hour. And despite her failing
health, she continued working. She gave a critically
acclaimed performance in The Whales of August
in 87 as a blind sister. And reportedly, she
memorized all her lines despite her poor vision
and ongoing health struggles. Her final role
was in a film called Wicked Stepmother in 1989,
which she actually walked off of due to disagreements
with the director over the script. She was honored
extensively right before her death, receiving
the French Legion of Honor and a Lifetime Achievement
Award from the San Sebastian International Film
Festival. She died of metastasized breast cancer
on October 6, 1989, in France at the age of 81.
And her final resting place carries the perfect,
concise summation of her philosophy and her career.
An epitaph suggested by director Joseph L. Mankiewicz
after All About Eve. She did it the hard way.
So what does this all mean? Looking back at the
entirety of her career, from the humiliation
of that screen test to the fury of Baby Jane,
what defines the enduring, often intimidating
Davis style? Well, Graham Greene offered a definitive,
slightly sinister summary way back in 1936. He
pointed to that precise, nervy voice, the pale
ash blonde hair, the popping neurotic eyes, a
kind of corrupt and phosphorescent prettiness.
She was fundamentally unconventional. She always
chose authenticity and character depth over easy
glamour. And it's clear she saw the development
of that tough persona as necessary armor, born
of the rejections she faced early on. Right.
She admitted she was terrified early in her career
and became tough out of sheer necessity, which
led to that chilling quote, Until you're known
in my profession as a monster, you are not a
star. And that monster quality is precisely what
polarized critics, but it's also what guaranteed
her longevity. Many praised her unconventional
and fearless choices. But others, like the influential
critic Pauline Kael, felt she sometimes went
too far. She criticized her for turning herself
into a caricature of a harpy. Yeah, she was often
criticized for her overly histrionic performances,
especially later in her career, but there was
an undeniable magnetism to it. Right, like that
Time Magazine review noted, even while criticizing
her acting in a later film like Dead Ringer.
It said, it's shameless showing off, but just
try to look away. And you couldn't. She commanded
attention. even when playing roles that were
fundamentally unlikable or over the top. And
that ability to mesmerize, even through excess,
is the definition of a movie star. The legacy
itself is unassailable. We mentioned the AFI
placing her second on the greatest female stars
list. It's also interesting to note that her
personal Oscars... The ones Steven Spielberg
bought. Right, the statues he purchased for hundreds
of thousands of dollars to keep them out of commercial
circulation, they were ultimately returned to
the Academy. This act preserves her history with
the organization she once tried to reform with
her brash proposals. And her longevity in pop
culture is fascinating. Her feud with Joan Crawford
is still being dissected and analyzed today,
most famously in that 2017 series, Feud, Ben
and Joan. It just shows that the dramatic tension
she created offscreen continues to enthrall us
long after the films themselves become classics.
Ultimately, her career is a testament to the
power of artistic will. She was an actress who
constantly demanded excellence and, when denied
it, fought legally and publicly, forcing the
system to bend to her choices. And her impact
was forceful and tangible, including literally
changing Academy voting rules and co -founding
the Hollywood canteen. And that's the central
tension we've analyzed. The price of uncompromising
ambition. She admitted herself that her success
was often achieved at the expense of her personal
relationships. Her life was a continuous series
of battles with Warner Bros., with directors,
with co -stars, with her husbands, and ultimately
with her own daughter. It all reinforces that
final legendary epitaph. She did it the hard
way. Which brings us to our final provocative
thought for you, the learner. Bette Davis, in
her own words, suggested that achieving stardom
required one to become a monster in the eyes
of the establishment. Her epitaph simply confirms
the difficulty of that path. So considering how
often her tough reputation was criticized by
the press and damaged her personal life, we should
ask. In the age of information, where reputations
are instantaneous and unforgiving, is the lesson
Bette Davis offers that one must be a monster
to achieve true, lasting artistic control in
a highly pressurized industry? It's a compelling
question, particularly when navigating modern
creative industries that still struggle to celebrate
uncompromising female ambition without instantly
branding it as difficult or monstrous. Thank
you for diving deep with us today.