Inside Grauman's, we get a look at Don and Lina's movie. It's a silent period piece. Don and Lina kiss. He fights off an intruder. They embrace. It's all very dramatic and swashbuckly.
The audience gobbles it right up.
Don and Lina waltz on stage to great applause, and Don thanks the audience. Lina attempts to thank the audience, too, but Don stops her. She looks ticked. She steps forward to speak once more, and again he stops her. Again, she's miffed.
They glide off stage. Lina is not a happy camper.
Backstage, R.F. and Cosmo are all smiles and congratulations. Lina finally erupts. She's mad that nobody lets her talk. Also—her voice sounds like rusted nails on a New Jersey chalkboard. It's ragged and screechy, like a chicken that smokes four packs a day, and she drops more consonants than Sarah Palin. So that's why we haven't ever heard her talk. Yowza.
Rod from the publicity department explains to Lina that she's a beautiful woman, and the audience thinks she has a voice to match. Um, backhanded compliment much, Rod?
Lina asks Don to stand up for her. After all, they are engaged. The fan magazines said so. Don tries to explain to Lina that none of that's true, and that there's never been anything between them, but Lina ain't tryin' to hear that, see?
Time to head off to R.F.'s after-party. Rod's a total bro and suggests that Don and Lina ride in separate cars—to throw off the mob of fans, of course. Lina leaves.
Don complains to Cosmo that this romance the studio's cooked up for publicity is a real drag. Especially since Lina thinks it's legit, or at least refuses to believe that it's not. Such are the problems of a handsome movie star in 1927.