It’s in the 1973 good/bad gem called The Baby, in which Hitchcock actress Ruth Roman, in a cocked wig and a sneer, keeps her grown son in a crib and diapers for various perverse reasons generally involving control.
Social worker Anjanette Comer wants to stop this craziness from going on so she can get Baby some help — i.e., her own control — resulting in this classic confrontation of nostril flaring, right on Roman’s doorstep:
Comer: I just wanted to face you one more time to tell you that you’re sick. You’re the one who needs help, not Baby.
Roman: OK, you said it. Now get off my property. Get away from here or I’ll call the cops and have them take you away.
Comer: I’m going to fight you, Mrs. Wadsworth, with the only weapon I have — the law — for the legal custody of Baby.
Roman: Now you just go ahead and try, honey.
Comer: There’s an agency that works to protect people. It’s called the Public Guardian Office and you’ll be hearing from them. They can investigate everything. Do you think your treatment of Baby can stand up to that?
Roman: That’s just so much horseshit. You want him for yourself. Well, agency or no agency, you ain’t gonna get him. This Baby belongs to us. No, to me.
Comer: He belongs to himself! He’s not the subhuman thing you’ve made him. And once I report what I know, it’s just a matter of time before Baby is taken away from all of you.
Roman: You damned bitch.
Wacky fun, no?
By the way, Roman was right about Comer’s agenda. The crafty little social worker only wanted custody of Baby because her husband was infantilized in an accident and he needs a playmate!
This is the best kind of sick shit. Please get yourself a copy and wet yourself.
Wait! Here’s the whole scene (complete with Roman’s skanky but gorgeous daughters)!