01x05 - Smoke and Mirrors

[bunniefuu]

Yes.

Ah, there you are. Come in.

I'm practicing for the big day tomorrow and I need an Archbishop.

Will you do me the honour? From here.

"Is Your Majesty willing to take the oath?"

I am...

willing.

"Will you maintain and preserve in...

invi..."

Ah. Inviolably.

It means... to make a promise you can... you can never break.

A very sacred promise indeed.

Yes!

- We're ready for you, sir. - Oh, not yet, Tommy.

We haven't even reached the anointing.

You have to anoint me, otherwise, I can't...

be King.

Do you understand?

When the holy oil touches me,

I am tr... I am transformed.

Brought into direct contact with the divine.

For... forever changed.

Bound to God.

It is the most important part of the entire ceremony.

So we had better practice, hadn't we, archbishop?

"Be thy hands, anointed, with holy oil.

Be thy breast, anointed, with holy oil.

Be thy head, anointed, with holy oil.

As kings, priests and prophets were anointed."

- Goodness. That's very heavy indeed. - Five pounds, sir.

Not to mention the, uh, symbolic weight, hm?

There's a sight I hoped I'd never see.

It's not as easy as it looks.

That's exactly what the King said.

I remember.

Do you suppose I could borrow it for a couple of days?

Just to practice.

Borrow it, ma'am? From whom?

If it's not yours, whose is it?

Be quiet, Anne.

Ready?

Close your eyes, and don't open them until I say so.

- Oh, any idea where the Duke is? - His Royal Highness went flying, ma'am.

Daddy?

Again?

So when's the big day?

Pilot's exam? Two weeks.

- Are you still on track for the record? - I am. Just.

- If I do nothing else. - Oh, then you'll hate me.

Why?

There was something I wanted you to help me with.

It would've to be jolly important to distract me

from getting my wings faster than anyone in British aviation history.

It is. I'd like you to come aboard my Coronation Committee.

- In which capacity? - As Chairman.

But you already have one. Bernard.

I'd ask the Duke of Norfolk to make room for you.

I want to make a public declaration of my trust in you.

- There's no need to matronize me. - I'm not matronizing you.

Yes, you are. You're taking pity on me

and giving me a job, for appearance's sake.

No, it's not that.

I was just thinking how I'd like us to spend more time together.

What are you talking about? We spend all our time together.

No, we don't. You're always off flying, or lunching with strange men.

A few hours a week, darling. Anyway, what else am I supposed to do?

Sit around and wait for you while you're Queening?

- Queening? - Yes. Queening.

Maybe I'd like your help with the Queening.

Oh, in the same flattering way you asked me to redecorate Clarence House?

- Well, you did that jolly well. - I felt like a sissy.

Fussing about curtain fabrics and paint charts.

Honestly, it's just queening of another sort.

What would it entail?

Well, the Duke of Norfolk will run the show

from an organizational perspective, look after the seating,

the root of the procession, but as Chairman of the Committee,

you would have an input on ideas, inspire everyone, lead them.

They won't listen to me. The grey, old men?

The men with moustaches? They hate me.

- They do not hate you. - They do.

They treat me as an outsider.

An irrelevance. Everyone does.

Total control or nothing at all. Those are my terms.

All right.

But don't go mad.

- What does that mean? - It means just don't go mad.

It's the Coronation.

A service which goes back a thousand years.

- Some things can't be changed. - Yes, yes, yes, alright.

When did you move in?

The City of Paris owns the property, you know,

and happily the city very kindly let us take the house

for a small amount of rent.

So we moved in by summer's end.

Miss...?

You must have been thrilled, Your Highness.

- Not Your Highness. - Oh.

- Sore point. - Just a Duchess.

Not H.R.H. So, "Ma'am."

- Ma'am? - Or, "Your Grace".

What made you choose this particular house?

It has a two-acre park, which gives us privacy.

And its size means the Duke and I can finally entertain properly

and we very much enjoy entertaining.

The Duchess is so very good at it.

I believe our editor agreed as part of the deal

that you would give our readers some tips for entertaining?

- Did we agree that? - We did, darling, yes. They paid extra.

Hmm.

Okay. Big smiles.

Perfect.

But having had a naval background,

I don't much care for fussy things or smells,

but I do like a good, well-milled soap.

What sartorial tips would you give the young men of today?

No matter what the fashion, a well-cut suit in a beautiful fabric

will take you anywhere.

Is that the sort of thing you're looking for?

You're very fortunate.

He lets no one in here, it's his private room. Full of secrets.

Not secrets, darling. Memories, precious memories.

I come in here for a few moments every day

to meditate and remember.

- Goodness. Bagpipes, too? - Yes, I play.

When he gets homesick.

My favourite armchair.

- And the briefcase? - Box.

As Monarch, one receives a daily red box from the government.

State papers, business of the day. Matters requiring royal assent.

That was the final box I received as King. It contained my abdication papers.

And all these photographs of you as King, there are none with the crown.

- Why is that? - Well, I never made it that far.

I never had a coronation.

I forgot to mention, I had a call today from Sir John Weir.

- Who? - My mother's doctor.

Telling me that, in his opinion, she was in her final days now,

and my sister and I should make our way over.

With me?

Probably best without.

Even if she dies?

Let's hope she does.

Couldn't bear to go over twice.

I shall have to be brave.

My darling one.

And go without you.

To cold London.

Brutal London.

Hellish London.

Shall we f*ck?

The Lord Great Chamberlain, the Lord Chamberlain,

the Marshall of the Diplomatic Corp and the Comptroller, Your Majesty.

I have asked you to join me because I have made a decision

regarding the Coronation Committee,

which is that I would like my husband to be the Chairman of that Committee.

That's impossible, ma'am. There can only be one Chairman.

As far as I'm aware, I only have one husband.

And the Duke of Norfolk will be expecting it to be him.

- He is the Earl Marshall. - That may be.

And the Chief Butler of England,

he would be the 16th Duke of Norfolk to do it.

He ran your father's coronation, his father ran your grandfather's.

And running the coronation, it's what the Norfolks do.

- Couldn't you give Philip some other job? - Like what?

Arrange the photographer?

The chairmanship is what he wants. With full autonomy.

Therefore, it is what I want.

- Norfolk can be vice-chair. - Why don't you think about it?

I have, and my decision stands.

Thank you.

Of course, the Duke of Norfolk will be furious.

Yes, and Bernard does fury so well.

What would Your Majesty suggest?

I will throw my hat in with Bernard and sanity will prevail.

The Queen is young.

And has to learn what any young general has to learn.

Namely?

Which battles to fight and which to leave.

- Let me know what you want me to do. - The same as always, Tommy.

Exactly as I tell you.

Now, I've spoken to the Archbishop of Canterbury

who's agreed to help us with our other delicate matter.

The Duke of Windsor.

- When does he arrive? - This afternoon, I believe.

God help us.

- And when will you meet him? - We thought tomorrow, ma'am.

Good. Sooner the better.

- Be sure to be firm, Tommy. - Yes, ma'am.

That one's like mercury. He'll slip through the tiniest cr*ck.

Good afternoon.

I have returned to London to visit my mother, Queen Mary,

who I'm delighted to say has made such good improvement in recent days.

Thank you very much.

My dearest, darling one...

London is as awful and hellish

and as full of my smug, stinking relations as ever.

Each day I call on Mama in the afternoon,

and although she doesn't look quite as bad as the doctors warned me,

she'll never again be able to leave her rooms,

far less go out in public.

What?

Don't go.

Not going anywhere, Mummy.

Good.

It's one of the hardest things I've ever had to endure.

Spending so much time with a woman who has been so vicious

and inhumane to you, my beloved, is wearing me down.

Come in.

- Sorry to disturb, Your Royal Highness. - What is it?

The Archbishop of Canterbury's private secretary called, sir.

Requesting a meeting between you and His Grace.

Oh? What about?

Didn't say, sir. He hoped you could make tomorrow.

Fine, I have a few errands planned, but the Archbishop can come to lunch.

As a matter of fact, they suggested 4 p.m.

- Well, alright. We'll give him tea. - At Lambeth Palace.

Of course.

Now I'm no longer King, I go to them.

- Thank you. - Good night, Your Royal Highness.

His Royal Highness, the Duke of Windsor, Your Grace.

Goodness. What is this?

- An ambush? - Not at all, sir.

No, just a gathering of old friends who have come together

to appeal to you in person,

in the hope that you will do what we all think... would be...

The right thing.

- Regarding what? - The coronation.

What about the coronation?

We acknowledge...

as a...

as a member of the Queen's close family, you are entitled to attend,

but also feel that the attendance at this sacred ceremony

by one who, however good his reasons,

did not feel... capable of undertaking

the obligations himself...

It could strike a wrong note and would be deeply upsetting.

To whom?

- To everyone concerned. - I didn't ask you, Tommy.

This is Cookie's work, isn't it? The Queen Mother's?

It's got her pudgy little fingers all over it.

She asked you to do her dirty work for her and you agreed, Archbishop, shame on you.

I will attend if I want. And I do want and so does my wife.

Alas, no, sir.

Of course the Royal Family is obliged to extend an invitation to you,

as a Royal Duke.

But that obligation does not extend to the Duchess of Windsor.

And it is my duty to inform you on behalf of the Royal Family

and the government, with whom we have worked in close consultation,

that she will not be offered an invitation.

Oh, that's madness.

The pusillanimity and vindictiveness knows no limits.

Seventeen years have elapsed since the abdication.

Shouldn't bygones be bygones?

Some things can never be forgotten.

Which of us, for example, has forgotten the Somme?

You would compare the love and public commitment I made to my wife

to slaughter in a world w*r?

Why not use a celebration such as this,

the investiture of a new sovereign, a beautiful young child,

symbol of modernity, change and progress, to turn a page?

Surely the sophistication of a society

can be measured by its tolerance and ability to forgive.

Its weakness, too. Sometimes lines just need to be drawn.

You know, Tommy, you're an embarrassment to the institution you serve,

and to the country that institution serves in turn.

And I will take a lecture on national embarrassment from many people, sir,

but not from you.

Let's face it, this whole thing is a charade.

You knew already the answer to the choice you have given me.

It is simply the same as the choice that caused all this offense

in the first place.

Namely, would I do anything that excludes or disrespects the woman I love?

No, never. I will therefore not be attending the coronation

of my own niece.

Whose favourite uncle I have always been.

Hers, you should know, was one of the strongest voices involved.

Oh, was it indeed?

Well, we know from where she gets that ice in her veins.

And it wasn't from my own dear, weak brother.

Nothing weak about the late King, sir.

I'm sure I speak for everyone present when I call him a hero.

Hear, hear.

"My Lord, Archbishop,

what a scold you are.

And when your man is down, how very bold you are.

Of Christian charity, how very scant you are, you Auld Lang Swine,

how full of cant you are."

A rhyme composed for your perfidious predecessor at the time of my abdication.

I find the sentiment oddly applicable to you, too.

If I were to release a statement, could you have a look over it?

Of course, sir.

I'm aware that it's normal for no reigning monarchs

to be present at a coronation.

Perhaps we could extend that to include former kings too.

To spare my blushes.

Might just throw some of the vultures off the scent.

It's an elegant solution, sir.

And I'm quite sure Cabinet will support it. Tommy?

I'll speak to Their Majesties and get back to you.

We've just had a call from Marlborough House.

Regarding her Majesty, Queen Mary.

My own darling sweetheart.

Well, at last it's all over.

Mama took ill in the afternoon,

then began haemorrhaging in the early hours.

Doctors plied her with tranquilizers and morphine

to ensure there was no suffering.

In the end, she passed in her sleep.

I was sad, of course,

but let's not forget how she clung to such hatred for me,

her eldest, till the last.

I'm afraid her blood ran as icy cold when she was alive

as it does now she's dead.

Later in the day, all the members of the family assembled

to identify which of her personal possessions they would most like.

Not entirely.

I told Shirley Temple what I had my eye on.

Because I shan't be there when the jackals descend

I don't suppose it will do much good.

What a vile, tawdry rabble my relatives are

and what a sad, desiccated bunch of hyenas most of them have become.

But I'm tired of talking about it.

I yearn for our perfect life together,

away from the snarling and the sniping of the Court.

I adore you, my sweetheart,

more deeply than you will ever realize,

and I am furiously mad that you aren't here with me

as you ought by right to be.

While Queen Mary lived,

something of the great reigns of Queen Victoria and George V

seemed to live on with her.

Proving that character is, as it will remain,

the essential strength of British Monarchy.

Wherever she went, she was assured of an applause

which sprang from some deep-seated affection and respect.

Have you noticed? Identical to the funeral of your father.

Nothing different. Not one detail.

Not one guest.

And she always regarded herself

as a servant of our country, which she served to the end.

No sooner does someone in the family pop their clogs, they ask themselves:

"Right. How was it done last time?

Then let's do it exactly the same way again." I mean...

Meanwhile, the people who have come to share in it are locked outside.

I'm not going to let your coronation be like this.

You're a young woman. Symbol of a new era.

In a fast-changing, modern world.

And I think your coronation should reflect that.

- Sorry. - ...Almighty God of his great mercy.

Sorry, darling.

Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life

through our Lord Jesus Christ, who changed our vile body

that it may be like unto his glorious body...

Ladies and gentlemen...

We should go.

Good morning.

Head's up.

What is the collective noun for a group of stuffy old Etonians?

A herd? A pack?

A school?

Thank you.

Gentlemen,

I'd like to start by saying how very honoured I feel

to be working with all the great minds and talents here in this room today

as we come together to organize the very best coronation for my wife,

the Queen.

We all know the scale of the challenge that faces us.

The eyes of the world will be on us, Britain will be on show

and we must put our best foot forward.

In such circumstances, the temptation

is to roll out the red carpet and follow the precedents

set by the grand and successful coronations of the past.

But looking to the past for our inspiration

would be a mistake in my view.

Britain today is not the Britain of past coronations.

Assumptions made at the time of my father-in-law's coronation

17 years ago cannot be made anymore.

That is why I think we should adapt this ceremony.

Make it less ostentatious. More egalitarian.

Show more respect and sensitivity to the real world.

We have a new sovereign, young and a woman.

Let us give her a coronation that is befitting

of the wind of change that she represents,

modern and forward-looking at a moment in time

where exciting technological developments

are making things possible we never dreamt of.

Which brings me to my next point...

It's an unconscionable vulgarization.

How close are you proposing that these cameras get?

They will be kept at a very discreet distance.

No, no close-ups, sir?

Zoom lenses.

Oh, no, it will all be done with the greatest sensitivity

and respect for the occasion.

But I have had one or two broader thoughts about the service itself.

What?

We can both see what's going on here.

A young couple are playing marital games

with the most cherished parts of our history and pageantry.

Our Queen wouldn't agree with a single one of these radical proposals,

television being just the tip of the iceberg.

She's simply trying to keep peace in her own bed chamber

by promoting her husband and keeping him happy and occupied

and virile.

- That's what's going on here, Winston. - Why? What else has he proposed?

- Prime Minister. - Your Majesty.

Please tell me this has nothing to do with my husband.

I told him not to go mad.

No one is questioning the Duke of Edinburgh's motives

or the sincerity of his beliefs.

I see. He went mad.

The changes he is proposing to an ancient, sacred,

never previously changed liturgy and text...

It went from top to toe.

And if it were just a business, it would be applauded.

But this isn't a business. It's the Crown.

And one has to ask oneself...

What is the purpose of the Crown? What is the purpose of the monarchy?

Does the Crown bend to the will of the people

to be audited and accountable?

Or should it remain above temporal matters?

What say you?

No, ma'am. What say you?

The decision is yours to make.

We will take our lead from you.

We just wondered if you might be available for a brief moment in the vestry.

Alright.

- What is this? Hide and seek? - I told you not to overstep the mark.

I made it clear, carte blanche or nothing at all.

Trade Unionists and businessmen? In the Abbey?

- If you want to stay on the throne, yes. - In a trimmed-down televised coronation?

If you want to avoid a revolution, yes. You forget.

I have seen first-hand what it is like for a royal family to be overthrown

because they were out of step with the people.

I left Greece in an orange crate. My father would have been k*lled.

My grandfather was. I'm just trying to protect you.

From whom? The British people?

You have no idea who they are or what they want.

Oh, oh, I'm just Johnny Foreigner, again, who doesn't understand. Fine, fine.

You want a big overblown ceremony costing a fortune

while the rest of the country is on rations, have it.

But don't come bleating to me

when your head and the heads of our children are on spikes.

If the people are hungry, they want something that lifts them up.

And how do you propose lifting them if they cannot see it?

The people look to a monarchy for something bigger than themselves.

An inspiration. A higher ideal.

If you put it in their homes,

allow them to watch it with their dinner on their laps.

It will democratize it, make them feel that they share in it. Understand it.

Alright!

Alright. I'll support you in the televising.

You won't regret it.

On one condition.

That you kneel.

- Who told you? - My Prime Minister.

- He said you intended to refuse. - I merely asked the question.

Whether it was right in this day and age that the Queen's consort,

her husband, should kneel to her rather than stand beside her.

You won't be kneeling to me.

That's not how it will look. That's not how it will feel.

It will feel like a eunuch, an amoeba, is kneeling before his wife.

You'll be kneeling before God and the Crown as we all do.

I don't see you kneeling before anyone.

Because I'm already flattened under the weight of this thing.

Oh, spare me the false humility. Doesn't look like that to me.

- How does it look to you? - Looks to me like you're enjoying it.

It's released an unattractive sense of authority and entitlement

that I have never seen before.

In you, it's released a weakness and insecurity I've never seen before.

- Are you my wife or my Queen? - I'm both.

I want to be married to my wife.

I am both and a strong man would be able to kneel to both.

- I will not kneel before my wife. - Your wife is not asking you to.

- But my Queen commands me? - Yes.

I beg you make an exception for me.

No.

Come on, they'll be here soon!

David, you're our host, darling.

Be right there.

For the sixth time in the history of England,

a Queen receives the crown. A big day for the British public

who are living these beautiful hours after the end of the w*r.

Leaving Buckingham Palace, the historical carousel carrying the Queen and the Duke,

is travelling towards Westminster Abbey...

Alright, everyone. She's arriving. In the dreaded Gold State Coach.

Made in the 1760s and the most uncomfortable ride known to man.

Final checks, please, gentlemen.

- West door. - West door, sir.

- Triforium. - Triforium standing by, sir.

- South transept. - South transept standing by, sir.

- Organ screen. - Organ screen standing by, sir.

- Triforium 2. - Triforium 2 standing by, sir.

Gentleman, three, two, one. Thank you.

She is now walking under the vault of Westminster

in the shadow sleeping Kings,

soldiers and poets who for centuries saw the grandness of England.

- Who's that? - What? Oh, uh...

Oh, it's Lord Mountbatten. The Duke of Edinburgh's uncle.

The man that gave away India, and his own wife.

Cuckolded by Nehru, if you please.

Triforium 2, turn left please.

Left. Left.

Moving forwards now, four Knights of the Garter.

The Dukes of Wellington and Portland,

the Earl Fortescue and the Viscount Allendale.

Bringing with them with golden canopy to shield Her Majesty from view,

during the most sacred of the coronation rituals, the anointing.

In three, two, one...

Where'd she go?

Now we come to the anointing.

The single most holy, most solemn,

most sacred moment of the entire service.

So how come we don't get to see it?

Because we are mortals.

Is Your Majesty willing to take the oath?

I am willing.

Will you maintain and preserve...

Inviolably?

I will.

Be thy hands, anointed, with holy oil.

Be thy breast, anointed, with holy oil.

Be thy head, anointed, with holy oil.

As Kings,

priests and prophets were anointed.

And as Solomon

was anointed... King

by Zadok the priest and Nathan the prophet,

so be thou anointed, blessed,

and consecrated Queen over the peoples,

whom the Lord thy God

hath given thee to rule and govern,

in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.

Amen.

Amen.

Oils and oaths. Orbs and sceptres.

Symbol upon symbol.

An unfathomable web of arcane mystery and liturgy.

Blurring so many lines

no clergyman or historian or lawyer

could ever untangle any of it.

- It's crazy. - On the contrary. It's perfectly sane.

Who wants transparency when you can have magic?

Who wants prose when you can have poetry?

Pull away the veil and what are you left with?

An ordinary young woman of modest ability and little imagination.

But wrap her up like this, anoint her with oil,

and hey, presto, what do you have?

A goddess.

God save the Queen! God save the Queen!

God save the Queen!

God save the Queen! God save the Queen!

God save the Queen!

And to think you turned all that down. The chance to be a god.

I turned it down for something greater still.

For love.

I, Philip, Duke of Edinburgh,

do become your liege man of life and limb, and of earthly worship.

And faith and truth I will bear unto you,

to live and die, against all manner of folks.

So help me God.