For instance, according to both book and play, shortly after arriving at her hosts' home, the aging actress -- still flinching from the publication of the tell-all penned by her born-again daughter -- is in the midst of a tirade against organized religion. Who should show up but the subject of a book Fuller was then working on -- a woman faith healer named Grace, who immediately presents Davis with a Bible, a Jesus pinkie ring and a book called God Wants You to Be Happy. ("Young lady," the frog-eyed actress allegedly croaked, "your book, Bible and Jesus pinkie ring will have to find another home.")
Over the course of events, Davis fans are also treated to descriptions of the actress exploring a role she never got around to tackling on-screen: Action-Adventure Heroine.
Paolo Vescia
Paolo Vescia
As homage to her horrific houseguest, Elizabeth Fuller exhibits Bette Davis-themed ceramics at Scottsdale's ZED gallery.
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During a river-rafting trip, the feisty survivor narrowly cheats death when the rapidly deflating craft almost goes over a dam.
Later, in a vignette that might have been called "Bette Davis Meets Cujo," a raspberry-picking expedition is cut short when Fuller and the cronish thespian come face to face with a snarling Doberman. Undaunted, the doddering Davis saves the day with the aid of her cane and a few well-chosen expletives that send the cowering beast running for cover.
Sighs Fuller, "Here was Bette Davis about to end her distinguished career as lunch meat for some animal named Gunther."
In the end, though, it was Fuller and her family who were almost done in, not the indomitable Davis.
"It was an exhausting experience," says Fuller in hindsight. "And it almost cost me my marriage."
Now able to laugh, she describes how Davis egged her on during an argument she was having with her husband. "Tell him, 'You make me want to vaaaaahmit!'" Fuller recalls Davis whispering to her in the heat of a spat. "Once she asked me if my husband beat me. When I told her he didn't, her eyes lit up and she proceeded to tell me about all these battles she'd had with [fourth husband] Gary Merrill. Lord, that woman loved a good fight."
Whether Fuller's postmortem parlay at her guest's expense would get Davis' dander up is anyone's guess. Except for the 1987 Women's Day article, the actress never lived to see the various permutations of the visit Fuller has produced.
Elizabeth Fuller, who has hopes of conducting a séance at Davis' family crypt in Forest Lawn, thinks the actress would approve of her campy tribute. If not, why would Davis' ghost continue to linger in her Connecticut home away from home?
"Bette's still in the house," Fuller, who's since remarried, says matter-of-factly. "My family has all felt her presence." Although she avoids specifics, Fuller adds, "She's always up to something."
Like ghost, like haunted-house owner.
After reeling off a list of upcoming productions of Me and Jezebel (she's hoping that Stagebrush Theatre will stage a local run), Elizabeth Fuller is flabbergasted to hear that she shares a startling bond with Christina Crawford, the daughter of Bette Davis' worst enemy.
Learning that the Mommie Dearest author now operates a bed-and-breakfast in Idaho, Fuller nearly chokes on her latte.
"Christina has a bed-and-breakfast?" she gasps. "Get out! I wonder if she has wire hangers. I've got to send her a book . . ."
In the immortal word of Fuller's former houseguest, "Kee-ryst!"
