01x03 - The Last Rostov

[bunniefuu]

To an entirely unanticipated
and truly wonderful friendship.

She's an actress.

Both Lenin and Trotsky

have their favorite film directors.

I'm good friends with all of them

and could arrange introductions.

Pleasure is mine, Miss Urbanova.

Close the door on your way out.

Together, we can build

- a new Russia.
- Mishka.

- You know him?
- Yes.

I am truly sorry I came
between you and Helena.

We can move forward rather than back.

w*r and Peace, Tolstoy's finest work.

You have read it?

Consider it a Christmas present.

Goodbye, Alexander Ilyich.

Will you be all right without me?

Oh, my dear Nina,

there's really no need
for you to concern yourself

with an old fuddy-duddy like me.

All the same. I shall.

Progress, they say.

Well, the coffee's ready.

Might as well come along.

Well, thank you.

I'm sorry, I don't think we've
ever been properly introduced.

Abram. I'm the caretaker of this place.

Well, I'm delighted to
make your acquaintance.

- My name is Alexander Ily...
- Oh...

I know who you are.

Is that cannon fire?

They're-they're clearing
away the old buildings.

The bees do their best to ignore it.

Here. The fruit of their labor.

Mmm. Oh, that's delicious.

Just a hint of lilac.

- From Alexander Gardens.
- Oh.

You know, in a week or so,

the honey will taste of cherries.

The honey on our estate in Nizhny,

it tasted like apples,
all the way through spring.

Where the apple blossoms fall like snow.

- Yes.
- I know it well.

The death of Lenin

plunged the country
into a power struggle

between Trotsky and
General Secretary Stalin.

Life inside the Metropol
remained largely the same.

Good morning.

- Good morning.
- And you.

Ah, beautiful, Marina.

The Count settled into
comfortable routine.

Days passed, seasons turned.

Nina!

Oh.

How was school this year?

Did you misbehave yourself?

Mm?

The capitalist system is
at the root of imperialism.

Yes, but the individual
has a role to play, too.

I mean, do you think, without ambition

and a particularly strained relationship

with his mother...

... Napoleon would
have conquered Europe?

If not him,

it would've been someone else.

When they exhaust resources at home,

nations develop expansionist
policies and pursue wars

that only serve the ruling class.

Secretary Stalin tells us this.

Your move, I believe.

I don't remember my position
being quite so desperate.

Anna.

- Just over here, over here.
- Anna.

- Give us a smile.
- Give us a smile.

Look this way, Anna.

Lovely.

And turn to the right.

- Beautiful.
- Comrade Urbanova.

Anna, how was it working with Golubev?

Comrade Urbanova.

- Excuse me, young man.
- How can I help you today?

I just wondered if the room was ready.

Yes, certainly.

- Anna.
- Lovely, lovely, thank you.

- Oh, one more, Anna.
- Thank you,

- gentlemen.
- Anna, just one more...

In the dozen or so times
that Anna had returned

to the hotel since
their night together...

... not a single word
had been exchanged.

Make your move.

May I introduce Sergey
Ivanovich Semenov?

He's writing a piece on you.

He wants to hear all
about your new film.

It's lovely to meet you.

Pleasure.

Audrius. Bottle of Bollinger.

The 1917, if you'd be so kind.

Again?

Never fear failure,
rather fear never trying.

But you have tried.

Many, many times before.

Yes, all right.

Give her this note with the
champagne, all right? Thank you.

Comrade Urbanova.

Mishka.

I wasn't expecting you for another week.

What is it?

We should go upstairs.

The Party still monitors the
activities of exiles abroad.

I was made aware yesterday
that the Countess d*ed.

I am truly sorry.

How did it happen?

It was reported that
she'd been in ill health

for a number of years.

I don't know the cause exactly.

She was 87 years old.

I will count myself
lucky to live so long.

And her funeral was befitting
of a woman of her standing?

I understand there's a magnificent
Orthodox church in London.

A service was held at the
crematorium in Golders Green.

A crematorium?

And her-her ashes are to stay in exile?

She deserves better.

I should hold some sort
of church service for her.

She still has friends in Moscow.

We do not engage in ceremonious
superstition anymore.

Oh. God is in exile, too.

I'm the last of the Rostovs.

After me...

... there is no one else.

The wine must be Châteauneuf-du-Pape.

We'll serve caviar to taste on arrival.

Vichyssoise. Steamed fish.

To go along with the main
event, whole spring lamb.

And what's the occasion?

You want all this to be served

at the same time, after the caviar?

Yes, of course.

It wouldn't be a feast if
it was served piecemeal.

A gathering in remembrance
of my late grandmama,

the Countess Rostova.

H-How many guests?

Twenty.

When my husband d*ed, we weren't
allowed to hold a service.

Be careful. This will be frowned upon.

Oh, I'm sorry. I had no idea.

Why would you?

Ah, yes.

Well, it's been years since it was used.

Stand up straight. You're slouching.

I feel we could restore it

to something akin to its former glory.

What do you say, gentlemen?

Stop sucking it in.

An outrageous slander.

"Sucking it in," she said, Yasha.

Maybe there is a reason this fine china

hasn't been used for the
best part of a decade.

It's against Party rules.

Even so, don't you miss serving
people who have the refinement

to appreciate our efforts?

If you could send the measurements

to Sidorov on Nikolskaya.

Gregor has made suits for me before.

Shouldn't be difficult for
him to make one in the style

of my father's suit.

We have to be very careful not to

draw too much attention.

Don't worry. I'll make sure
everyone is on their best behavior.

Ready to order, sir?

I'll have the Latvian stew.

And would you like a glass
of wine with your stew?

Might I suggest the Rioja?

Rioja?

I'm terribly sorry. Please,
I'll, uh... Ignore me.

I believe you wanted the Rioja.

No, no, no. You can't. You
simply can't have the Rioja.

What you want is a bottle of Mukuzani.

The Georgians practically
grow their grapes

in the hopes that, one day,
they'll accompany such a stew.

We better have one of those, then.

Of course.

Good heavens, child! What
do you think you're doing?

Stop that at once!

Manager Halecki. Mr. Halecki,
have you seen this barbarism?

Ah, yeah.

We were informed late last night

there would be some... adjustments.

But they can't.

We have our instructions.

There's a gentleman in
the piazza asking for you.

So, you finally conquered volume two.

- Did you enjoy it?
- Some of it.

The w*r rather than the peace?

Here you are, comrade.

They mock General Secretary Stalin.

They're Trotsky's disciples.

Educated, privileged.

Two of them are the children of doctors.

Another has a father who is a physicist.

They think they're entitled to power.

They're gaining a foothold,
and the Party is dividing.

Was there a particular
reason you wanted to see me?

What do you know of my background?

Very little.

Our conversations have
tended to focus on mine.

Oh.

Well, you were a soldier
once, an infantryman.

You rose to the rank of
colonel by the w*r's end.

How would you know?

Well, it's the business
of gentlemen to distinguish

between men of rank.

And what else?

Only an Eastern Georgian
would have his lunch

with a bottle of Rkatsiteli.

Because he is a hayseed?

No. Because he misses home.

In my family,

we would share a bottle
of Châteauneuf-du-Pape

to mark special occasions.

I didn't have a formal education.

My parents never had
books, so I never had books.

My daughter is eight.

She loves to read.

We watch them constantly,

but it's not enough to
know their next move.

I need to understand
the privileged classes.

And how do you propose that I help?

From time to time, you
and I will meet and talk.

You will teach me what I want to know.

Very well.

You will never share the
contents of our conversations.

I still do not know your name.

Osip Glebnikov.

I was sorry to hear of your grandmother.

Thank you, Nina.

Are you familiar with the story
of the moths of Manchester?

No.

For thousands of years,

the peppered moth had white
wings with black speckles.

It was perfectly camouflaged against

the bark of the silver birch trees.

Naturally, there were aberrations,

moths with pitch-black wings.

They were quickly snapped off the trees

by birds before they
had a chance to mate.

In the late 19th century,

when Manchester became
crowded with factories,

soot covered all the
buildings and trees,

and the white-winged moth found
itself exposed and picked off,

while the black-winged moths thrived.

In less than a century,
the black-winged moth,

which had made up ten percent
of the moth population,

now made up over 90%,

and the white-winged moth, well...

found itself in the minority.

So?

It used to take generations

for a way of life to fade.

Under current circumstances,

we must acknowledge that the process

can occur in the blink of an eye.

Like Darwin says,

"Adapt or die."

I was surprised to
receive an invitation.

It'll just be a simple gathering

marking the passing of my grandmother.

There's nothing simple about it.

A service for the Countess will
not be tolerated by the Party.

There have been other society
events in Moscow in recent times.

I understand that, only six months ago,

Vladimir and Yelena Trubetskov

were married in the Church
of the Great Ascension.

Yes, and there was more secret police

in congregation than attendants.

Vladimir is now missing,

and Yelena, she lives alone in fear.

You'll be putting your guests in danger.

Is this the brave new
world that you dreamt of?

Rome wasn't built in a day.

No, but it was b*rned down in one.

I know the love you had

for your grandmother, but
this isn't the way to show it.

People like you are...

People like... people like me?

A gathering of the old elite

will be seen as an act of defiance.

Things have changed, Alexander.

You have to understand
that. It's dangerous.

I won't be offended if you
feel like you can't attend.

Listen to what I have said.

I'd better go.

All right.

Thank you for the books.

Good evening.

Certainly. I shall have that

sent up to your suite
right away, Miss Urbanova.

Audrius, I couldn't help

but notice that you and
the boys are absolutely

rushed off your feet down here.

Um...

Good evening. I believe
you ordered room service.

Now hold on a minute.

Ah, Miss Urbanova.

May I set it here, where you
might make yourself comfortable?

What in seven blazes do
you think you're doing?

Olga, I think you're finished for today.

He can't... You can't really...

I give up. I really do.

Madam.

Are you not pouring yourself one?

That is why you brought two glasses?

Well, in hope rather than presumption.

I must confess that, after our...

previous liaison

and your subsequent disregard,

that I was concerned
that I may have caused

some... offense.

- Why are you smirking?
- I'm not.

Oh, certainly you are.

When a man is dismissed
from a woman's bed,

it is incomprehensible to
him that she might simply

have had her enjoyment
and now wishes to sleep.

- Her enjoyment?
- And yet, when the shoe

is on the other foot...

Well, that's not true of all men.

I imagine I'm rather more
experienced in the matter.

You make a fair point.

So, I was merely a passing fancy?

No, there was nothing
mere about it, but...

yes, if you like.

I did like. I do.

And I suppose there's
an added attraction

to a man who's unable to
chase me down the street

when I choose to leave.

So why has it taken us
so long to speak again?

- I was waiting for you.
- Waiting for me?

- But I... I sent you champagne...
- You did.

And I enjoyed drinking it.

You didn't send yourself.

You mean, all those nights
you stayed at the hotel, I...

I could just have knocked at the door?

Depends.

Depends on what?

On whether or not I was in the mood

for you to knock on my door.

Bring the champagne.

I was surprised to read that your father

was a factory worker
from Saint Petersburg.

Mm. His hands always
smelt of machine oil,

no matter how long he scrubbed them.

You told me he was a fisherman.

I thought it might appeal to you,

as I thought the rise of
a factory worker's daughter

would appeal to the
readership of Spectacles.

Neither story is true?

No.

So what did your father do?

My father was a famous matador.

We toured the great
arenas of Spain together.

One day, before the crowds
arrived, I, I stole his cape

and snuck into the bullring.

I wasn't quick enough.
The... the bull caught me

by the shoulder with his horn.

I fell to the ground.

Just as the bull was bearing
down on me, my father...

... threw himself in front
of me to save my life.

Costing him his?

He d*ed in my arms.

You are like one of
the moths of Manchester.

I have no idea what that means.

Well, towards the end
of the 19th century...

I'm sorry, what are you doing?

I was about to explain to you
about the moths of Manchester?

No, please, Lord, no.

Oh.

Why were you upset?

In the bar, with your friend.

My grandmama passed away.

She brought me up from the age of ten.

I'm sorry for you.

It's a privilege to grieve.

Means you loved someone
and someone loved you.

Where are your family?

Olga is my family.

Now, I've a lot to do tomorrow,

and you've absolutely exhausted me.

Well, it had been four years.

Given our respective circumstances,

I'd appreciate your discretion in...

Oh, naturally. Of course.

Congratulations on your moving picture.

I'm sure the General
Secretary will be a huge fan.

- Don't forget to close the...
- Close the door on the way out.

Yes, I-I remember.

Until the next time?

Perhaps.

Good night.

Alexander.

I found the queen dead this morning.

Well, there's still honey.

Hive must have turned on her.

It happens when the colony's failing.

Unless it was hornets.

Maybe the hornets out there.

They tore up the Imperial Gardens.

Flowers, trees.

I mean, what is the sense in that?

They'll be back, Abram.

Your bees will be searching
somewhere new for their pollen.

I've had a working hive
here for the last 20 years.

It's over.

You've forgotten my lessons
in etiquette entirely.

I'm making a list of
all the prime numbers.

Just imagine identifying
a prime number so high

that no one has ever
discovered it before.

Well, yes, that would be something.

I hope you can attend
the dinner I'm planning.

There is something I have
to do first, but I'll try.

You ready to order?

Good God, man. Must
you sneak up like that?

I apologize.

Are-are we ready to order?

Shouldn't you be working
in the piazza, Leplevsky?

I was deemed worthy of a promotion.

Your order, if you wouldn't mind.

- I'll have the duck.
- Same.

Of course.

And will you be requiring
any wine this evening?

Yes, a bottle of the
San Lorenzo Barolo, 1912.

Yes, now, is that the red or
the white you'll be having?

A Barolo is a red.

Then you'll be having the red.

Yes.

The Barolo is a red.

I-I-I... I do a-apologize
if I'm-I'm not being clear.

For your selection of wine this evening,

there are only two options:

white and red.

A complaint was filed
with Comrade Teodorov,

the Commissar of Food, claiming that

the existence of our
wine list runs counter

to the ideals of the Revolution.

Apparently, it is a monument
to the privilege of nobility.

They've removed all the labels.

This is preposterous.

Who would want to perpetrate
such cultural vandalism?

Who would make such a complaint?

Your waiter. Comrade Leplevsky.

I can only presume he has a friend.

A friend?

With influence.

Which makes him someone to be wary of.

They won't stop till they've destroyed

everything that came before.

Châteauneuf-du-Pape.

Yes.

Well, I can see that Sidorov
has lost none of his talents.

He closed his shop two years ago.

Well, who made this?

You?

Yeah, just remember,

I've dozens of sheets and
pillowcases to mend every day,

the housekeeping, and a
boy to run around after.

Marina...

I'm incredibly grateful you
would go to such efforts for me.

Well, I don't expect what
you would pay Sidorov.

Well, you will have it, all the same.

There.

How's that?

Is something wrong?

My father wore it better.

If you don't like it,

- I-I can...
- It's perfect, Marina.

Thank you.

You have excelled yourself.

Brava.

Vasily, what is the meaning of all this?

Oh, we're holding a reception
for Miss Urbanova's film.

It's rumored that General Secretary
Stalin himself will be attending.

Have any of my guests arrived?

Only one.

It's important that
General Secretary Stalin

be allowed to set the
topic of conversation.

Good evening.

Should he engage in conversation,

be sure to emphasize the superiority

of the Russian film
industry over Hollywood.

Don't worry, I know how
to stick to my lines.

Mishka.

I'm so glad you could come.

I'm here for you, not your grandmother.

Well, I appreciate it.

Shall we?

Ready? One, two, three...

Sasha, they would have
been nervous about coming

even before Stalin was
coming to the hotel.

They loved my grandmother.

They will want to pay their respects.

More red?

Leave it, please. Leave it.

I don't understand why Andrey
isn't taking care of us.

I was asked to attend.

By whom exactly?

Good evening.

Nina, good of you to join us.

Allow me to introduce you to
Mishka, an old friend of mine.

Well...

I see you are helping
redecorate the hotel.

I'm glad to be doing my
part for Mother Russia.

You're glad?

Your Excellency, uh...

Emile wanted me to inform you

that the rest of the food
has been ready for some time.

We are still awaiting
the arrival of our guests.

Much longer and it will spoil.

We both know how
combustible Emile can be...

g*dd*mn it! We will wait.

A-Apologies, Andrey.

Excuse me.

Give my apologies to Emile
and my sincere thanks.

Do you think this shawl
is too much, maybe?

It's fine.

On my cue, start playing.

The General Secretary's
car is on its way.

Everybody get ready.

Well, you never know.

Music, please, music.

Here we go.

Sasha, you must understand
the risk they would be

putting themselves in by coming tonight.

They'd be drawing
attention to themselves.

The Istomins are octogenarians.

What possible thr*at could they pose?

Are they going to foment a
revolution over the starters?

Do you know what the Party has done now?

They have removed the labels
from all the wine bottles.

It's madness.

It's only wine.

Only wine?

A bottle of wine...

it captures a moment in history.

Its flavor tells a
story of place, of time,

of the ground beneath
the winemaker's feet.

Whether the season was wet or dry.

But now we have to accept
that none of that matters.

A wine is simply red or white.

Now it's a monument to privilege.

- The absurdity of it all.
- It is.

It is what?

It's a monument to privilege.

Thank you! Thank you.

Thank you. That'll do.

Thank you.

Regretfully...

... Stalin is no longer
attending the reception.

And what of me?

Should I be done away with, too?

Should our whole past be done away with

for the glory of the Revolution?

All of it must be b*rned
to the ground, and for what?

For the country to progress.

Progress? How is any of it progress?

What have they done to you?

I'm sorry for your
grandmother, Alexander.

Good night, Mishka.

Nina, please. I'm sorry. Stay. S-Sit.

Right.

Everybody back to work.

Are you all right?

This is an embarrassment.

You should go.

I'm happy to stay.

No, please, Mishka, just leave me.

Shall we clear away the food?

Shall we clear the food?

Shall we?

Let's get rid of it all. All of it.

Everything. Clear it all away!

Countess Osipova scrubs
floors at the sanatorium.

The Istomin sisters,

they live like wraiths in a single room,

dreaming of the return of the old order.

The rest of your guests
share similar fates.

You wanted to see if
any of them would come?

Be very careful, Alexander.

You are still a prisoner here.

Know when you are beaten.

Alexander.

You were right.

The bees.

They've come back.

Come and see.

Please.

Here.

Now taste that.

Apples.

They must have flown
from Nizhny Novgorod.

They must have heard you
talking about your home.

You see?

You said they'd find a way.

You said they'd come back.

It's a sign.

They want you to stay.

They want you to look after them.

No.

You're their owner.

I'm old and tired.

You have so much more to give.

Don't waste it.

Audrius, a brandy, if you wouldn't mind.

Thank you.

Are you not scared
of being seen with me?

Well, it won't make a difference now.

I think my career might be over.

Stalin didn't enjoy the film.

I suspect it went over his head,

which is hardly surprising,
given his diminutive stature.

A toast.

To the confederacy of the humbled.

The confederacy of the humbled.

Audrius.

I trust you can still pick
out a bottle of Bollinger.

Absolutely, Count Rostov.

Please. Alexander.

Shall we?