Transcripts - Forever Dreaming

Sydney!

Sydney!

Unfortunately, the tests
revealed structural alterations

in the larynx of His Royal Highness...

and that the disease is advanced.

There is no cure,

only palliative care,

and once the morphine starts,

His Royal Highness will be debilitated
much of the time.

My advice would be to make the most
of the precious time that remains.

We must throw a party.

Our greatest ever party.

Hmm.

And concentrate only on happy things.

To that end,
let's cancel the Japanese emperor.

Hirohito? No, we can't do that.

No, too much planning has gone into it.

Besides, it may be my only remaining
opportunity to restore my reputation.

Oh, reputation...

is an idle and most false imposition.

Oft got without merit

and lost without deserving.

Hmm.

No, we don't want it to look like Kabuki.

Ah.

Only the second time
he's ever left his country.

Last time he was only 20.

A boy. I was 26.

He didn't speak a word of English.

I gather he has a little now.

They promised us no cameras.

I don't want my people
to see me visit a man

who could not hold on to his throne.

Well...

we didn't agree to this visit
for the conversation.

One, two, three.

Perfect.

One, two, three.

Imagine living in exile
from your homeland.

I would sooner die.

Never leaves Japan.

Imagine being stuck on an island
your whole life.

An island which is home.

And where you reign as sovereign.

I can think of worse things.

"The Emperor and the former king.

Two great statesman reunited." The Times.

"A Royal Reunion." The New York Times.

"Fifty years of strife laid to rest in
triumphant meeting." The Guardian.

I heard this morning that he's requested
to do a television interview with the BBC.

What kind of interview?

An in-depth retrospective.

I can't bear it.

Now they're rehabilitating him.

It's possible, Mummy,
that not everyone is as consumed

by loathing of him as you are.

Charles asked my blessing
to visit him in France.

Whatever for?

He said out of respect.

But I imagine it's curiosity, too.

One doesn't often get the opportunity
to meet a former king.

Former kings are usually dead.

That was cutting it fine.

Why the cocktail dress?
Tonight's black tie.

I'm not coming.

What? You can't not come.
It's the amalgamation ball.

I had a clash.

- With what?
- None of your business.

Look, this escalation of hostilities
is neither necessary nor justifiable.

You had your chance for a ceasefire,
and you broke it.

If you're talking about Ginny, it's over.
The whole thing was hideous.

No, hideous was knowing
you were out on maneuvers with her.

So, before we even discuss
the terms of a truce,

you deserve to know how it feels.

Who's that?

Never you mind.

- Evening.
- Good evening, sir.

- You alone?
- Ah.

Huh?

Where's, uh... where's Memsahib?

She had a better offer.

- Really?
- Hmm.

Oh.

But, as it turns out... Evening.

That means I'm free to seek
a proposition of my own.

Thank you.

- Well, in that case...
- Yes?

There's, uh...
There's someone you should meet.

Come with me.

Your Royal Highness?

May I present
Captain Andrew Parker Bowles.

Hello, Andrew.

Your Royal Highness.

What are you staring at?

At you, ma'am.

- And how much you've...
- Choose the next word very carefully.

Flowered.

Oh, you mean the dress.

It's the Queen's. I look like a hydrangea.

No, no. I mean, uh...

developed.

Grown up.

Evidently,
I've gone from invisible to visible.

- No, you were, you were always visible.
- But somehow you'd never seen me.

Now you're making up for it...

by gawping.

- I'm so sorry.
- Don't apologize.

I hate it when men apologize.

It isn't honorable or chivalrous.
It's wet.

I didn't say I objected to it, did I?

- No.
- Well, then.

I don't mind admitting I've done my fair
share of gawping at you over the years.

Have you?

On the polo field.

When I should have been watching the
Duke of Edinburgh or the Prince of Wales,

my young, impressionable female eye,

for some reason, was drawn to you.

- That was fun.
- Yes, it was.

That said, we should probably
make it the last time.

- I don't want you to get hurt.
- What makes you think I would?

Oh, it's what tends to happen to anyone
who gets in the way.

Of what?

Me and her.

You sail, don't you?

Do I need to brace myself
for a nautical metaphor?

At sea, there are, um...

hidden currents. Deadly.
They can pull one under.

Camilla and I are a bit like that.

What are you doing?

Leaving.

- But I don't want you to.
- You just said you did.

No I didn't.
I said I don't want you to get hurt.

This conversation is going round
and round in circles.

I preferred it when we were going round
and round in circles.

I can see perfectly clearly who you are,

and what this is and I can assure you
I'm not going to get hurt.

Now, what's it going to be?

A resumption or a cessation?

Of what?

A resumption.

Fine.

Where do you get it from at your age?

- What?
- Oh, come on. That confidence.

I'm not confident, dear.

Just tough.

Here come Windsor Park,
in the green, on the attack.

Good run up the field, on a glorious day
here at the Guards Polo Club.

Coming straight through,
looking confident,

Prince Charles leading the charge there
with number four.

Leans it forward, but there's
Parker Bowles with a tail shot,

backs up the ball to his teammate,
and Windsor Park, on the pivot,

to try and recover.

Go on, Charles, go on.

Blues and Royals
in the white with the red stripes

on the counter-attack now
with two minutes left in this chukka.

- Come on, sir!
- a tussle for possession now.

Go on, your Royal Highness, sir!
You can do it!

Yes, it's Windsor Park!
Windsor Park pushing up once more.

Parker!

Oh, Parker Bowles rides off
the Prince of Wales.

He's ridden him off.

Parker Bowles hits the big one.

Windsor Park rushing back now,
they're in trouble.

Parker Bowles striking ahead.
But Prince Charles is still in the race.

Come on, sir! Come on!

He's closing!

Oh, come on.

He's closing!

And Parker Bowles scores!

Parker Bowles for the Blues and Royals!

That makes it two goals to nothing!

- Bad luck out there.
- I might see you afterwards.

Hmm.

You played well today.

You and I both know I didn't.

Andrew Parker Bowles played well today.

You just need a bit more aggression
in your game, that's all.

So you keep telling me.

How was Paris?

And the Duke of Windsor?

It was all very odd.

He didn't look at all well.

Hmm?

And the house is like some...
bizarre monarchy museum.

Reeked of joss sticks and dogs.

Was she there?
Flapping around like a demented bat?

- Yes.
- Hmm.

I hear she consumes nothing but whiskey.

And has had so many facelifts
she can barely speak.

- Dickie...
- Oh!

I don't know if I've told you, but...

we've been writing to one another.

I think he sees something
of himself in me.

Don't tell your grandmother that.

He keeps telling me to find a wife.

Oh! It's far too early for that.

Now is the time to sow your oats.

Play the field.

Perhaps.

But as it happens,
there is someone I quite like.

The one cheering you on today, yes?

- Yes.
- Hmm.

Who used to be with Andrew Parker Bowles
until they had a falling out.

Over Anne.

If you please.

- Your sister?
- Don't ask. It's all a bit messy.

But the long and the short of it is,

Camilla is now free,
and I'd like to snap her up.

Hmm.

And that's her name?

- Yes.
- Hmm.

Camilla Shand.

I like her.

So...

Have you voted yet?

Yes.

Who for?

None of your business, sir.

They say it's a formality for Wilson.

Ugh! Not if I've got anything
to do with it. Ah!

I've rather given things away there,
haven't I?

How am I going to be able to persuade you
to have dinner with me?

- Issue a royal decree?
- I can't do that.

I'm not King.

Yet.

Yet.

Then just say please.

Please.

...this early general election
has failed to pay off,

then it could be
we find ourselves waking up

to a different prime minister tomorrow.

The leader of the opposition,

Mr. Edward Heath, Your Majesty.

Mr. Heath.

The people have voted
in your party's favor.

As their sovereign, I invite you
to form a government in my name.

Congratulations.

Thank you, Your Majesty.

It really is an encouraging set
of circumstances.

Labour took the British people
for granted.

Mr. Wilson behaved like a petty emperor,

and treated this election
like a coronation.

Nothing wrong with a coronation.

Under the right circumstances.

We then had a brief foray into small talk.

He's taking a grand piano with him
to Downing Street, if you please.

Some bring a wife, others a grand piano.

I then asked him
what his first priorities were,

he said he'd like me to go to France
at the earliest opportunity.

What for?

To try to charm Pompidou,

so he doesn't block our entry
into the European Economic Community,

like his predecessor.

He's passionately committed to Europe.

Your Majesty.

- Your Royal Highness.
- Martin.

I never see the other one anymore.

- Sir?
- Where's the other one?

The, um... the, the bald one.

The... Oh!
Colonel Adeane. He's retired, sir.

Has he?

- Three months ago. You gave him a clock.
- Did I?

What is it, Martin?

A reminder that the BBC interview with
the Duke of Windsor is coming up soon.

Now, we understand the Duke
is no longer in the best of health.

Might be worth visiting
when you go to Paris.

Certainly not.

Go on, Martin.

There's just a slight concern that
if the BBC interview were to go down well,

following the successful visit
of Emperor Hirohito,

the question might be asked,

if the Japanese make the effort to visit,
why would his own family not?

He didn't cause them offense.

He didn't abdicate the Japanese throne,
or k*ll the Emperor's father.

For the last time, no.

That man, his shame...

like the stench of livestock.

Sir?

It seeps into the woodwork,
and never goes away.

Your Majesty.

Your Royal Highness.

Thank you.

♪ I'm beggin' ♪

- ♪ Beggin' you ♪
- ♪ Beggin' ♪

♪ Put your lovin' hand out, baby ♪

- ♪ Beggin' ♪
- ♪ Beggin' you ♪

♪ Put your lovin' hand out, baby ♪

♪ Ridin' high ♪

♪ When I was king ♪

♪ Played it hard and fast
'Cause I had everything ♪

♪ You walked away ♪

♪ Won me then ♪

♪ But easy come and easy go
And it would end ♪

- ♪ Beggin' ♪
- ♪ Beggin' you ♪

♪ Put your lovin' hand out, baby ♪

♪ I'm fighting hard to hold my own ♪

♪ No I just can't make it all alone ♪

What's it like?

- Like?
- Living here.

Well, not very grand, as you can see.

This is the apartment
where they keep Anne and me.

Two bedrooms. One small drawing room.
All very normal.

Come on, none of this is normal.

Not just that you live in a palace,
but the fact that you are who you are.

Prince of Wales?

It's not so much an existence as...

a predicament.

I am both free...

and imprisoned.

Utterly superfluous
and quite indispensable.

One can never fully invest in one thing,
or another because at any moment...

it could all change.

And you become king.

Not to mention
what it does to you as a family.

How can one be a good son when...

even though it's the thing you most...

dread.

Her dying?

It's the thing you most...

Not desire.

Well, yes, desire.

Because until she dies
I cannot be fully alive.

Nor can I be the thing
for which I have been born, so...

One is condemned
to this frightful business of waiting.

Like Saul Bellow.

Sorry, I don't know who he is.
Did he wait a lot?

He's an American author.

He wrote a book called Dangling Man.

I sometimes feel like the main character,
whom he describes as...

"Existing in a timeless,
and slightly ridiculous abyss."

Was he a prince?

No.

An unemployed man from Chicago
waiting to be drafted to go to w*r.

And he actually wants to be drafted,
because it will give his life meaning.

Even though he might be k*lled?

Yes.

That's how much humans need meaning.

Ma'am.

Oh, for me?

Hmm!

Ha! Gotcha!

That's brilliant!

That dreadful waffle
about dangling in the abyss!

Paul Sellow?

S-S-Saul Bellow.

And the Queen dying.

Yes! Mummy kicking the bucket
at long last.

And then kerpow! Gotcha!

That's brilliant!

Oh!

Yes. Your face when you saw it,
"Oh, for me?"

I wasn't expecting that, sir!

Oh, my God, you got me!

Sorry, yes.

Sir, just a reminder,

the television interview
with his Royal Highness,

the Duke of Windsor, is about to begin.

Thank you. Thank you.

You join me
in the Bois de Boulogne in Paris

in this magnificent house,
once home to General de Gaulle.

Its occupants today need no introduction.

His Royal Highness, the Duke of Windsor,

Edward VIII, King of England
for a little more than ten months.

And the Duchess of Windsor,
Mrs. Wallis Warfield Simpson,

when they met.

Ma'am, when you first met the Duke,
what was your first impression?

He struck me
as being rather "with it."

Ahead of his time.

Full of pep. Unlike most Englishmen.

And that meeting occurred
when you were Prince of Wales?

Yes. A role that
I also very much hoped to redefine.

I had my own ideas, my own opinions,

my own... philosophy.

And then finally the day came.

When you acceded to the throne.

Yes, and much to everyone's frustration,

I stayed true to myself...

and the conviction
that monarchy had to change,

to move with the times.

Hmm.

But I soon discovered that any attempt
to make even the most trifling change

was met with hostility and suspicion.

By whom?

By the establishment.

The gray men of the court.

And by my family, too.

They saw me as a rebel.

A threat.

- Too...
- Colorful.

Dynamic.

Individualistic.

Christ, they're ghastly.

In the end, I didn't get to introduce...

Both of them. Monstrous.

Because of the pressure
to stand down...

- I'm going to bed.
- to abdicate had become unbearable?

Yeah.

People always assume
it was because of the Duchess,

because of my obstinate desire to marry.

But the establishment's opposition
to our marriage

was really a symptom of something deeper.

Their fear of the character
and freedom of thought,

which I represented.

How was it?

The candle-lit dinner?

Come on.
There are no secrets in this place.

Lovely.

Thank you.

Camilla Shand, eh?

Yes.

And you're seeing her ex, Andrew.

Not sure you can call
what we're doing "seeing."

Not sure you can call him an ex, either.

Camilla told me. He's definitely an ex.

Hmm.

Just make sure
things remain the right way round.

Us playing with Camilla and Andrew.

Not them playing with us.

What does that mean?

Anne.

- Ah! Gotcha!
- Well played, ma'am.

Darling?

David.

Excuse me.

- Sir?
- No, no. I'm all right, I'm all right.

Sydney, call the doctor.

Yes, ma'am.

The plan is start in Rouen

to commemorate the Allied
fallen in the Great w*r.

Then back to Paris for a presentation
of the Diplomatic Corps.

Then the all-important reception

with President and Madame Pompidou
in the Élysée.

Hmm.

Landing in ten minutes, ma'am.

It is said

that those who do not learn from history

will be forever condemned to repeat it.

Though we have lived
through times of conflict,

our two countries share
an ancient relationship.

Let us not forget our deeper bonds,

our sense of common purpose

on which can be built a new partnership,

a new entente.

Joined together,
in this august European enterprise,

a great adventure lies ahead.

Monsieur le President.
L'Union fait la force.

Merci. Thank you.

Thank you.

- Excuse me, Your Majesty?
- Excuse me.

We've had a message concerning
His Royal Highness, the Duke of Windsor.

Uh, I think we're close to the end.

Thank you.

Your Royal Highness. Ma'am.

Her Majesty the Queen, she's coming.

- What, here?
- Yes, ma'am.

She's on her way.

- Get me up!
- You can't be serious.

I-I've never been more serious.

Thank you.

Her Majesty the Queen, sir.

Thank you.

Oh, no. Please don't.

Your Majesty.

There was no need for that.

If the roles were reversed...

you would do exactly the same.

Yes.

I am sorry you're not well.

We've had our disagreements.

But you've always remained
my favorite uncle.

It's kind of you to say

and kind of you to...

visit.

Dear Lilibet.

- "Shirley Temple."
- Ah...

Yes.

I underestimated you.

We all did.

But the Crown always finds its way
to the right head.

My father, my brother...

you.

And... and one day, God willing, your son.

You don't think he's up to it?

I never said anything of the sort.

But you think it.

I can read you

every bit as well as you can read me...

and I know why you think it.

He can often appear weak.

Indecisive.

But with the right woman by his side,

I say he'll make a good king.

And his...

Thoughts have already turned
to the matter.

He writes to me, and I to him. He's...

He likes this girl, Camilla.

They barely know one another.

Sometimes...

one knows immediately.

You did.

What does he say?

Take the letters. Read them.

I can't do that.
It's a private correspondence.

They concern the future of the Crown...

and shed light on the soul
not only of a future king...

but also your son.

Better they should be in your hands
than anybody else's.

In the bureau. In the... the drawer.

And...

before you go,

one last time...

for all of it...

what I did to you...

forgive me.

Thank you.

What you did, your abdication
of the throne, did change my life.

Forever.

But I want you to know

it's not always a curse.

And I haven't always been cross with you.

That there are days...

in fact, more and more the older I get...

when I consider it to be a blessing.

I've even on occasion found myself...

wanting to thank you.

Dear Uncle David,

I want to thank you again, and Wallis,

for having me at your home
in the Bois de Boulogne.

It's a rare thing that fate should allow

a former king
and a king-in-waiting to meet.

To tell the truth,
it opened my eyes to a few things.

To the nature of kingship...

the nature of love

and all the difficulties
that go with both.

I'm sure you know the family would have
preferred me not to visit you.

Afraid, perhaps,
I might recognize myself in you,

sympathize with you.

Well, let me confess
that I do recognize myself in you.

Your progressiveness and flair.

Your individuality and imagination.

What a king you would have made
in a kinder world.

What a king we were denied.

It makes me so sad
to see you living in exile,

when all you did
was take a stand for principle,

and love one woman completely.

You were cruelly denied your right

to reign alongside the woman
that you wanted by your side.

But I give you my word.

I will not be denied
what you have been denied.

The Crown is not a static thing
resting forever on one head.

It is moving.

Alive.

Divine.

The changing face of changing times,

and if, God willing, it has been ordained
that I should wear it...

then I shall do so on my own terms...

and hopefully make you proud.