03x02 - Margaretology

[bunniefuu]

As His Majesty the King
has not yet produced a male successor,

nor do we at this stage expect one,

the decision has been taken to start
preparing you in earnest for the Crown.

From this moment on,

you will no longer be
the heir presumptive,

but the heir apparent,
and your life will be quite different.

You will not be able
to travel unaccompanied,

nor to socialize as freely.

Your father, the King, had little
or no time to prepare for the throne,

which was thrust upon him.

We will not be caught out again.

The Crown is not just an ornament
to be worn.

It is a privilege and a burden,

which comes with formidable expectations
and responsibilities.

I don't think I can do it.

I could.

I know you could.

I'd love every minute.

To be on every coin, on every banknote,

to be the most famous woman
in the world.

I'd be so very good at it.

Wearing a big crown,
giving everyone orders.

Yes.

Then tell them,

"Margaret Rose can do it."

Margaret Rose wants to do it.

"Margaret Rose was born to do it."

You were.

Then let me speak to them tomorrow.

It would be the best thing for both of us.

All right.

Good.

Hello, you.

Your Majesty.

Just come to wish you a bon voyage
and to thank you.

What for?

For agreeing to squeeze in
so many public engagements

on what is essentially a private trip.

- And for flying this way, commercially.
- Well, it's not so bad.

They've cleared out the first-class cabin
just for us.

What's the first stop? New York?

Uh, San Francisco. Then Los Angeles.

Then five days
with the Douglases in Arizona.

How lovely.

Then on to New York,
where Tony is promoting his book.

- You've written a book?
- Uh, a book of my photographs.

Oh, you are clever.

You must make time to really relax, too.

We will.

Be good to one another.
Kind to one another.

Both of you.

Sad she felt the need to say that.

What?

"Be good to one another.
Kind to one another. Both of you."

It was a little clumsy.

But she means well.

The two of us...

we're complicated.

She and I are complicated.

It's true.

Elder sister, younger sister.

Number one and number two.

Who's number one?

You. Of course.

A natural number one whose tragedy it is
to have been born number two.

Hmm. That is my burden.

She knows it, too.

Yes, I think she does.

That's her burden.

Welcome aboard
this BOAC flight to San Francisco.

Please take your seats and relax.

We're now ready for departure
and will be taxiing shortly.

We'd like to take this opportunity
to wish you a very pleasant flight.

Ten-hut!

Good morning, Mr. Ambassador.

Economically, as you know, Marvin,

the United Kingdom is right up against it.

It's seeing a terrifying run on sterling,

and our credit from the IMF
is about to expire.

Now, the Prime Minister
has made several attempts

to speak to the President
about another bailout,

a rescue package.

But the President refuses
to take his call.

President Johnson is a busy man.

Too busy to talk to his oldest ally?

Historically, the holder of this office

has the warmest relationship
with Downing Street.

Think of Churchill and Roosevelt,

or Truman and Attlee. Macmillan and JFK.

No need to keep mentioning
Jack Kennedy like that.

Keep mentioning?

It's just provocative.

Unhelpful.

President Johnson is his own man.

Well, of course.

I mentioned it only in the context
of our leaders

standing shoulder to shoulder
in times of difficulty.

Morning, Prime Minister.

The United Kingdom and the United States.

Historically, it's like a marriage.

Will you talk to him?

No! Screw the Brits!
I don't like 'em. I never liked 'em.

If they're not looking down at you
through their noses,

they're holding their hands out
like beggars.

And I don't give a crap
about any special relationship.

Harold Wilson wants my help,
he should have thought about that

when he refused
to support me over Vietnam.

You can't screw a man in the ass
and then expect him to buy you flowers!

- The Prime Minister, Your Majesty.
- Your Majesty.

Prime Minister.

Uh, I'm sure that it did not
escape your attention

that President Johnson failed to attend
Mr. Winston's funeral.

Yes, on account of a cold.

Well, that was the explanation
the White House gave,

but it persuaded no one.

Uh... I fear that the President
may have taken against me

for what he sees as my failure
to support him over Vietnam.

And I wondered...

...in the past,

the royal family
has been extremely helpful

in keeping
the special relationship afloat.

And given the...

predicament the country
finds itself in economically...

You'd like us to roll out the red carpet.
Make a bit of a fuss.

Please.

All right.

I shall consult the Three Wise Men.
See what they have to say.

Thank you, ma'am.

Welcome to San Francisco!

Margaret! Margaret, over here! Over here!

Picture, right this way!
Thank you, Margaret.

"What we have witnessed
in Princess Margaret"

is a more vibrant, modern,
and engaging version of her older sister."

Quite right.

"To those accustomed to
the formality of traditional royal visits,"

meeting Princess Margaret has been
like going from a black-and-white film

"to one in color."

What about a state dinner,

like the one held
for Woodrow Wilson in 1918?

Or a weekend at Windsor Castle?

The important thing here, I'm told,

is that whatever we offer
President Johnson,

it must exceed
whatever we gave the Kennedys.

Hey, we wanted to see the Queen!

You're seeing something
better than the Queen!

What do you think is the main
difference between Britain and America?

Well, my sister isn't
on the banknotes here!

What are you most
looking forward to in America?

Liberty!

We love you, Princess Margaret!

♪ Be happy again ♪

♪ Keep on smiling ♪

♪ 'Cause when you're smiling ♪

♪ The whole world ♪

♪ Smiles with you ♪

Keep smiling, darling.

What news of Princess Margaret?

After three days in San Francisco,

Her Royal Highness
has safely arrived in Los Angeles.

Any disasters I should be aware of?

No, on the contrary, the trip seems
to have been a great success.

Really?

There's rave reviews
in all the newspapers...

With even a name having been coined
for the multitude of fans and well-wishers

who have followed her
every step of the way.

- Which is?
- Margaretologists.

Margaretologists?

Yes, ma'am.

Fans who have delighted

in Her Royal Highness's intelligence
and articulacy, her beauty

and charm, with one newspaper,
The San Francisco Chronicle,

even going so far as...

- Yes, all right. Thank you, Martin.
- Uh, yes, ma'am.

I'm a queen, not a saint.

That's it. Try not to smile.

I gave it!

Not once, not twice, but three times,
and you ignored it!

What?

The signal!

Our signal that I wanted to leave.

I didn't see it.

You know as well as I
that if you are the guest of honor,

you cannot just leave.

In the course of our marriage,
I have lost count of the number of times

you've walked out as "guest of honor."

- Once or twice.
- All the bloody time.

- When it's dreary.
- When it suits you!

When the people are ugly and dull.

These people were amusing and attractive.

And they made me feel good.

No, no, no, no.
The alcohol made you feel good...

and blunted your judgment

to the sycophancy
of the people surrounding you.

Is that right?

- Yes. Keys.
- Well...

sadly, it's not blunted my judgment

to your mean-spiritedness
and jealousy and...

general pusillanimity...

pusinalamn...

Small-mindedness.

I don't recognize this.

Hmm.

Come to think of it,
I don't recognize you.

Actually...

Nor did anyone else!

I mean, if we're honest...

Isn't that the real problem here, hmm?

Oh, I'm sorry.

A-A-And... and you are... Tony who?

Oh, yeah! The husband guy.

It's not easy, sometimes.

What is not easy?

Being second fiddle to a pygmy princess.

Don't talk to me
about being a second fiddle.

I get so little limelight.

No, it's the price I pay
for the sister I have.

But if the opportunity should once arise
for me to shine,

I'd appreciate you putting aside
the competitive little narcissist

that rages within you...

and letting me savor it.

I promise...

that once we get to New York,

the spotlight will be entirely on you,

and your book.

I'll take a back seat

and be the adoring
and supportive number two

you want me to be.

And nothing will make me happier.

Now, you can tell me
all you want that 50,000,

hell, 100,000 more boots on the ground
are going to resolve this.

But I put 100,000 more men in there,

who's to say that Ho Chi Minh
isn't gonna put 100,000 more?

A man can't fight if he can't see daylight
at the end of the road.

I wanna see solutions, gentlemen,
solutions.

Not more numbers!

By God, I will not be
the first American president

to lose a g*dd*mn w*r!

- That'll be all.
- Yes, sir, Mr. President.

Thank you.

What is this?

A peace offering from the Brits,
hoping to secure the bailout.

- A weekend sh**ting at Balmoral?
- Yes, sir. That's as good as it gets.

Even Kennedy never got that.

Really?

He got a banquet, a Naval Guard of Honor,
but never a weekend sh**ting in Scotland.

No one has gotten that.

Hmm.

Still...

that's a long flight,

followed by a long drive...

staying in some creepy haunted castle.

The weather's terrible.

And it would involve
making small talk to fancy people.

Then when you go sh**ting,

there's rules,
things you do and don't do,

which would involve research
and learning...

cutting my nails...

and I'd still get it all wrong.

And then everybody would laugh at me
and they'd say I wasn't no Jack Kennedy,

who would know exactly which Kn*fe
and fork to use and which bird to sh**t.

- So, my position has not changed.
- Hmm.

It is still,
"No, thank you, Your Majesty."

Tomorrow, there's the reception given
by the Council of Engineering Institutions

at the Science Museum,

followed by an audience with
His Excellency Guðmundur Guðmundsson,

the new ambassador
for the Republic of Iceland.

Thank you, Michael.
And where are we with President Johnson?

Ah, we went back offering
a weekend sh**ting in Balmoral.

Did we? Lucky LBJ.
We don't get enough of those ourselves.

- And?
- No response, ma'am.

- What?
- Nothing. Complete silence.

- That's a first.
- Yes.

And probably not
what Downing Street was hoping for.

- Is everyone panicking?
- Slightly.

- What about Princess Margaret?
- Oh, safely arrived in Arizona, ma'am.

Oh, well, that's something.
At the Douglas family ranch?

- Yes.
- I've never been.

- What do we know about it?
- They say it's quite something.

A beautiful 19th-century country house
set under the Santa Rita mountains,

in miles and miles of wide-open desert.

Tony!

- Tony.
- Brace yourselves.

Come along, darling.

- Your Royal Highness.
- Your Royal Highness.

No, Blinkie, no kissing. Germs!

She's exhausted, poor thing.

- I look hideous.
- No.

Ghastly.

You look a bit tired.

A bit coldy.

It's only to be expected after your...

heroics.

You hated every minute, didn't you?

Maybe.

But that's irrelevant.

The newspapers didn't.

Page after page
about how extraordinary you were,

what an asset to the Crown,
how underused you are,

what a secret w*apon,
how deserving you are of the spotlight.

- Your elder sister eclipsed and outshone.
- Darling.

- And now you must sleep.
- Hmm? What will you do?

Be a good guest and sing for our supper.

- So rest.
- I will.

And get well for New York.

Mr. President, I just got off
the phone with our ambassador in London,

who just got off the phone
with the Prime Minister,

- who got off the phone with the Queen.
- Don't tell me, everybody's pissed.

The general view seems to be

that if you have a quarrel
with the Prime Minister,

that's one thing,
but no one gets to insult the Crown, sir.

It's like, uh, treason or something.

How have I insulted the Crown?

By not accepting
the Queen's invitation, sir.

Well, I didn't refuse.

I just haven't replied.

Well, now, don't you do this, Marvin.

You're my Chief of Staff,
you're supposed to have my back.

Don't you get suckered into this.

You know, they got this
whole thing going on over there,

Head of State, Prime Minister,
Buckingham Palace,

Downing Street, it's like a double act,
like tag-team wrestling.

One of 'em gets in trouble,
the other jumps in to bail 'em out.

Wilson screws me over Vietnam,

and she jumps in to make it all good
with some bird-sh**t bullshit.

We don't have that here.

No, sir.

The buck stops with me.

Who the hell am I supposed to call

if I want to issue an invitation
to get me out of trouble?

Well, you call me, sir,
your oldest friend.

I'd come up with a sensible plan
to get us all out of trouble.

All right. Come up with a plan.

Well, sir, I just did.

This is the plan, right here.

Who in God's name is that?

They came to land at Oakland Airport,

and here, as in San Francisco,

crowds met and cheered them
everywhere they went.

The Princess was radiant,
obviously enjoying herself.

It wasn't long before her sparkle cast
an informal atmosphere over the occasion.

The American people and their press
have warmed to the couple,

enchanted by the natural display
of charm and friendliness.

Prime Minister for you, ma'am.

Said it was urgent.

Prime Minister?

Just to say, we've finally had
a response from the Americans, ma'am.

They've come back
with an invitation of their own.

To dinner at the White House.

- For me?
- No, for Princess Margaret.

- Oh, that's cunning.
- Uh, yes.

That way, President Johnson
can't be accused of snubbing my offer.

No.

It also side-steps
the all-important issue of the bailout.

Indeed.

But we think not all is lost,

that Princess Margaret should
accept the invitation,

go to the White House,

and use the occasion

to win over hearts and minds
to the British cause.

It would be a political engagement
of the utmost delicacy.

For which you want
to send Princess Margaret?

Yes, well, that had been my reaction.

But her trip to America has been
a terrific success.

So I gather.

So, will you ask her?

If those are my instructions.

Please.

Well, well.

I suppose the situation is so dire,
there's really nothing to lose.

He doesn't know my sister.

Hmm.

Ma'am.

No!

- Your Royal Highness?
- No!

- Telephone for you.
- No!

It's the Queen.

Hello, you.

Hello, you.

Sorry to disturb.

I know you're on holiday,
so you won't want to hear this.

What?

We've had an invitation
from the White House

for you to go to Washington

and have dinner with the President
and the First Lady,

and we'd like you to attend.

- When?
- This Wednesday.

Oh. Can't.

Why not?

I'm going to be in New York.

For Tony's book launch.

Perhaps I should make it clear.

There is rather a lot riding on it,

and everyone is keen, very keen,
for you to go.

Perhaps I should make it clear

that nothing is going to stop me
from supporting my husband,

just like you asked me to.

Margaret!

"Dear Margaret,"

as a wife, I understand your desire
to support Tony.

You know that it was my honest hope

that on this trip
you would both find the opportunity

to be more courteous,

more encouraging to each other.

But for now,
such considerations must be put aside.

I have asked you this once as a sister,

"and now I must command it
as your Queen."

Your Royal Highness. Sir.
Thank you so much for agreeing to this.

The most recent list
of people attending the dinner,

with some brief biographies
of those expected to sit close to you.

"What I'm asking you to do"

amounts to much more
than simply attending a dinner.

Currently, there are matters pertaining
to this country's future prosperity

that require a concerted effort
on our part.

We must heal the divisions
that are emerging

between Britain and its American cousins.

You've often lamented
that you have nothing to do,

that you are a wasted resource.

Well, the task you are embarking on today
could not be more crucial.

Britain currently has a deficit
of £800 million.

What we need is a bailout
of at least £1,000 million.

Only the Americans can give it to us.

I know you like
to do things your own way.

But this is a diplomatic mission
of the highest sensitivity.

And I would urge you, for once,

"to play things by the book."

Ready?

What happens if I fail?

If we don't get the bailout?

Then we break our promises to the IMF,

exhaust the credit facilities
available to us,

face a run on sterling,

and the government would be left with
no option but to devalue the pound.

Hm-hmm. And that's bad?

Devaluation?

It's worse than bad.

It would relegate sterling to the
second division of the world's currencies

and Britain to the third division
of the world's economies.

It would mean international humiliation,
political ignominy, and...

financial ruin.

Your Royal Highness.

President Johnson.

- Good morning, Prime Minister.
- Good morning.

I've had an opportunity now

to speak to our ambassador in Washington
about the White House dinner last night.

And?

I...

I don't know where to begin.

It seemed the first course
had barely been served

before Princess Margaret made remarks
about the late President Kennedy

that were...

less than discreet.

I met him once. Kennedy.

I was left distinctly...

underwhelmed.

Margaret.

I'm sorry. Did I say something wrong?

I do know these days one's not allowed

to think anything other than
what a great statesman Kennedy was.

- Say nothing, Lyndon.
- Of course he'll say nothing.

He was his loyal deputy.

Which I think I can understand
better than most.

The frustrations and resentments
that can build up

from a life as a number two.

The support act.

Even of someone you adore.

You spent three years as Vice President.

I've spent my whole life as Vice Queen.

Except that came out wrong,
I didn't mean I'm a... "vice queen."

Is there a strategy in place
to deal with the fallout?

Oh, no. There's no fallout.

What?

President Johnson agreed.
Thoroughly. Enthusiastically.

Unreservedly.

He said, um, if I remember rightly,

"Jack Kennedy..."

would've k*lled his own mother

just to take the skin off her ass
to make a drum to b*at his own praises.

Right?

I see.

This then led to a drinking contest.

- What?
- Last man standing

- is the winner.
- Challenge accepted!

Which, in turn,
led to a limerick contest.

- Limericks?
- Yes, ma'am.

Some of them, I'm afraid to say,
a little off-color.

Hmm.

Well, go on then.

Oh, right... Um...

Well, the first one went a little...

"There was a young woman from Delaware..."

Who liked to make love...

liked to make love...

- Delaware! Delaware!
- In her underwear.

- A terrible prude...
- "She would never go nude,"

And her bum, hips, and tits
she would never bare."

What else?

The President countered with,

"There was a young man from Wisconsin

Who was blessed
with an enormously large..."

Johnson!

Where's the rest of it?

I believe everyone thought
that was long enough. As it were.

Any more?

Princess Margaret won the evening
with this one...

"There was a young lady from Dallas,

Who used a dynamite stick as a phallus..."

They found her...

You've made it this far.

"They found her vag*na
in North Carolina..."

And her arsehole in Buckingham Palace.

Bravo.

Then, apparently, there was dancing.

Whoo!

Followed by singing.

♪ Anything you can be, I can be greater ♪

♪ Sooner or later, I'm greater than you ♪

- ♪ No, you're not ♪
- ♪ Yes, I am ♪

- ♪ No, you're not ♪
- ♪ Yes, I am ♪

- ♪ No, you're not ♪
- ♪ Yes, I am, yes, I am ♪

She staggered home
at four in the morning,

newly Anglophile President Johnson
having agreed to the bailout,

the special relationship
more special than ever.

- ♪ Without being caught? ♪
- ♪ Yeah ♪

♪ That's what I thought, you crook ♪

And all because
Margaret was all the things

I'd specifically begged her not to be.

All the things I could never be.

Instinctive, spontaneous, dazzling.

♪ Yes, I can ♪

- You're all those things, too.
- No, I'm not.

I'm predictable, dependable, reliable.

Well, of those two,

I would pick dependability
every day of the week.

Thank you.

But it would be nice
to be dazzling on occasion, too.

- You are dazzling.
- Hmm.

You're a dazzling cabbage.

♪ Anything you can say,
I can say faster ♪

♪ I can say anything faster than you ♪

- ♪ No, you can't ♪
- ♪ Yes, I can ♪

- ♪ No, you can't ♪
- ♪ Yes, I can ♪

- ♪ No, you can't ♪
- ♪ Yes, I can ♪

Prime Minister.

Well played, Your Royal Highness.

Very well played.

Thank you, sir.

Shall we?

- Hail the conquering heroine!
- Ah, yes.

Let the abuse begin.

Now, you must know by now

any triumph from this family is met
with a healthy dose of...

- Envy? Spite?
- Good-natured teasing

to keep one's feet on the ground.

Everyone's very grateful.

The Prime Minister said he was
going to write to you personally.

Better than that.
He met me at the airport.

Ah.

And now we're all racking our brains

as to what to give you
to show our appreciation.

How would you feel
about the Order of Merit?

Or the Victorian Chain?

You can keep your gongs and your bongs

for all the men
to whom it matters so much.

But I'd be lying if I didn't admit
to having done a little thinking,

in view of how well it all went...

about us doing it more often.

Doing what?

Sharing duties.

But we didn't share duties.
You just went to a dinner party.

In your place.

And represented Crown and country

with, I think we can agree,
favorable results.

Isn't it possible
that we've stumbled upon something here?

You have far too much to do,
far too much pressure,

far too much responsibility.

And I, too little.

Having no role, having nothing to do is...

soul-destroying.

All I am asking is if you were prepared
to share a little more.

For both our sakes.

Let me think about it.

I'll see what I can do.

- Don't tell me you softened?
- I did.

And with good reason.

Margaret does suffer more than anyone else
by not having a more meaningful role.

Suffers in health and happiness.

She's overlooked.

And in terms of ability and character

and intelligence and flair,
she does not deserve to be overlooked.

So, why shouldn't we consider
expanding the role,

sharing the job a bit more?

There are two answers to that question.

Neither makes for pretty listening.

Yes, the system is unequal
and unjust and cruel.

Primogeniture divides
and destroys families,

the system stinks, but...

in its cruelty and injustice,
it reflects something else,

which is harsh and brutal,

which no one is suggesting we rearrange.

Life.

We all desire equality,
but here's the thing.

We were not born equal.

And what's the second?

Do you remember I told you once

I got drunk with that
god-awful monster Tommy Lascelles?

Hmm.

Well, that night
he shared with me his theory

about the House of Windsor.

I've never repeated it to anyone since.

Go on.

He asked me to imagine
a mythological creature.

A Reichsadler.

A polycephalus, a two-headed eagle.

For the purposes of this conversation,

I want you to think of it
as representing us.

This family.

Your family.

There have always been
the dazzling Windsors and the dull ones.

- Your father...
- A saint.

But dull. Sorry.

Your grandfather, too.

- George V?
- Deadly dull.

At the height of the Great w*r,
when the...

the Tsar and the Kaiser
and the Emperor of Austria

were dazzling the world, where was he?

He was sticking stamps in his album.

- His wife...
- Queen Mary, wonderful.

Ditchwater.

And so it goes, through George V
to Queen Victoria and back.

An uninterrupted line of stolid,

turgid dreariness.

Culminating in me?

Well, yes, but...

alongside that dull,
dutiful, reliable, heroic strain

runs another.

The dazzling, the brilliant,
the individualistic,

and... the dangerous.

And so, for every Victoria,
you get an Edward VII.

For every George V, you get a Prince Eddy.

For every George VI,
you get an Edward VIII.

For every Lilibet...

you get a Margaret.

And she may have had a success
in Washington,

but let's not delude ourselves
that serious diplomacy can be achieved

through drinking and dancing.

Let Margaret have the glory,

but let's not rewrite
the constitutional rulebook

because she got lucky once.

And where does that leave
my relationship with her?

Unchanged.

You're the Queen.

And she's your dangerous baby sister.

She's outside.
She knows we're talking about her.

Then let's join her.

That feverish mind of hers
needs no encouragement.

What you are suggesting is unthinkable.

The order of succession to the throne
is determined

by the Act of Settlement of 1701,

not the wild and irresponsible whims

of young princesses.

The principle of undisturbed
hereditary descent is a pillar

of stability and perpetuity
for the nation.

Princess Elizabeth's destiny is
to accede to the throne.

Yours is to serve and support.

I would urge you
to accept your position in life...

and to dismiss forthwith
any childish notions

about rewriting the rule books
that it might better suit your character.

We all have a role to play.

Princess Elizabeth's will be center-stage,

and yours, ma'am, will be from the wings.

Margaret!

♪ When you're smiling ♪

♪ When you're smiling ♪

♪ The whole world smiles with you ♪

♪ When you're laughing ♪

♪ When you're laughing ♪

♪ The sun comes shining through ♪

♪ But when you're crying ♪

♪ You bring all the rain ♪

♪ So, stop your sighing ♪

♪ Be happy again ♪

♪ Keep on smiling ♪

♪ 'Cause when you're smiling ♪

♪ The whole world smiles with you ♪