All language subtitles for The.Crown.S05E06.1080p.NF.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-SMURF

- Buckingham Palace.
- Certainly, sir.

Last winter, we shot
over 12,000 pheasants between us,

but that doesn't account for
individual tallies.

So, to spice things up,
I told Leicester to put the names of guns

and individual scores up
in the smoking room.

That's a wonderful idea.

Look at this Ceylon war issue.

How many pheasants
do you suppose Papa shot last weekend?

It should be carmine pink.
Instead, it's almost lilac.

106 brace.

This war's a horrid old thing,

but its effect on the ink supply
has made for some remarkable shades.

Hot tea here!

Get your hot tea here!

Lovely hot tea here!

Sir.

I have been asked to give you this letter
from Downing Street, sir.

Thank you.

Would you look at that!
The war stamp overprint

is missing the "S."

Another rarity for the collection.

We should check the backs of them.

Sometimes they pick up wet ink
from the sheet underneath.

What is it?

Your Majesty, Your Majesty,
Your Royal Highness.

- A letter from the prime minister.
- Can't it wait?

Concerning their Imperial Majesties,
the Tsar and Tsarina of Russia.

The government is willing to send a ship

to bring the Romanovs to safety
here in England.

The prime minister does not wish to do so
without your support.

Public perception and so forth.

The war.

Shall I go back with a yes?

To their rescue?

Show it to your mother.

Her judgment
is unfailingly better than mine.

Yes.

You must get dressed immediately.

You are being moved to a safer place.

I repeat.

You are being moved.

It's Cousin George.

I told you he wouldn't let us down!

Do you think he's going to save us?

That he's sending a ship for us?

Alexei, sweetheart. Wake up.

Girls! Girls! We are leaving! Wake up!

Cousin George has saved us.

Hurry, we have to leave now.

A quick photograph, sir. Before you go.

To show that you are alive and well.

Here, please. Stand against the wall.

No chairs. May we not sit?

Bring two chairs, quickly!

- My beautiful boy.
- Ladies, spread out a little bit.

You stand over there.

Good.

We're ready.

The photographer will be here
any minute now, sir.

- Ready, chaps?
- I'm ready.

I've been looking forward to this.

In view of the fact
that your relatives in Europe

continue to attack Soviet Russia,

the Ural Executive Committee
has sentenced you to death.

What?

This is for the workers.

For the revolution!

Got ya!

Hurry up, man.

- Loaders, keep up.
- Congratulations, gentlemen.

Very good day.

Shall we?

Those who can, do. To the day.

- To the day.
- To the day.

There are scenes of extraordinary drama
here in Moscow tonight.

Scenes of destruction, of fire,
even of blood on the streets.

Hopes for a peaceful
and democratic Russia are in peril

as Soviet hardliners mount a coup
to restore communist rule.

But thousands of protestors
have taken to the streets

against the forces that have
declared themselves in charge.

There is a growing sense
that the coup is collapsing

as the masses rally to Boris Yeltsin,

the first elected president of Russia
and leader of the popular resistance.

In a defiant speech,

he told the hardliners
there will be no return to the Cold War

and that democracy will prevail.

It must have been a fascinating trip.

It was.

The first Western leader
to visit Moscow since the coup.

I am curious to hear your impressions
of Mr. Yeltsin.

When the coup was launched,
he could easily have

compromised with the plotters,
tried to make a deal with them,

but he never wavered,
and the people love him for it.

That said, I'm not certain
I've seen him sober yet.

I thought you had spent several days
in his company.

I did.

He can't have been drunk all that time.

I think he might have been.

Not least because I think

I may have been.

But once you get used to
the table slamming and the profanity...

...he's straightforward and likable.

And it turns out...

Mr. Yeltsin is something of an Anglophile.

Really?

Obsessed with the idea
of meeting me, apparently.

And receiving a formal invitation
to the palace.

That's nice.

- Is that all you have to say?
- Sorry, I'm late, that's all.

What for now?

Flight to Munich.

Then to Hamburg
for a Duke of Edinburgh award ceremony.

Followed by
a World Wildlife Fund event in Brazil,

then Alaska, Canada, then back to London.

We've managed to combine it all

with a couple of
carriage-driving competitions too.

Ah, here it is.

Don't you ever get tired?

Only by sitting still.

We're different that way.

Yes.

More and more different.

Right.

I'm off.

- See you in three weeks.
- Yes.

The Duke of Edinburgh had invited me

to watch him compete at the Cannon Ground,

which is an easy course

so long as the shackle doesn't pop off
as you're crossing the dew pond,

which it did for His Royal Highness,

who I seem to recall
refused to let go of the reins.

Before I flew through the air
like a graceful parabola,

landing on my head in the grass.

And yet still, he persuaded me
to pursue carriage driving as a hobby.

And I've never looked back.

Guten Tag, Hamburg.

The Duke of Edinburgh's award
was hailed today

as the world's leading
youth achievement program.

Its founder and patron, Prince Philip,
was in Germany for the occasion.

Then he set off on a whistle-stop tour
of São Paulo, Alaska, and Nova Scotia.

A typically busy schedule
for a public servant

who, in his eighth decade,
shows no sign of slowing down.

The Queen, meanwhile, is preparing to meet
the Russian president Boris Yeltsin

on his first official visit to Britain.

The trip heralds a new era
of strong ties and cooperation.

The first Anglo-Russian friendship treaty
since 1766 will be signed.

It was Lenin himself who reputedly said,

"There are decades where nothing happens,

and there are weeks where decades happen."

The prime minister has grown
rather fond of President Yeltsin

and is keen
that we give him lunch at the palace.

Yes. I'd heard that.

I did a little research on Mr. Yeltsin.

It turns out that as a younger man,
he was a regional official in the Urals.

First Secretary of the Party Committee
in Sverdlovsk Oblast, to be precise.

Sverdlovsk is the name given to the city
formerly known as Yekaterinburg.

Yes.

Which is where Ipatiev House was located.

Go on.

Welcome to Buckingham Palace,
Your Excellency.

Would you like to follow me?

Your Majesty.

Like to know
a secret about the Russian people?

Oh, please.

In our heart of hearts,
we are all still monarchists.

Even at the height of Stalin's purges,

when a Soviet citizen tells a story...

...we start by saying
not "once upon a time..."

..."in the good tsarist times..."

To the good tsarist times!

To your health, Comrade!

Your health!

Your Majesty.

I have a request.

That you would
come to Moscow on a state visit...

To celebrate
the end of Communism

and the restoration of democracy.

I'm flattered by your invitation.

But there is something you
should've considered before extending it.

What is it?

Ipatiev House.

Where Tsar Nicolas and his family,

beloved cousins of my grandfather,
King George V,

were murdered by the Bolsheviks.

I understand you personally gave the order
for that house to be demolished.

An act of great disrespect
to my family's memory.

Yes, its demolition
was a shameful piece...

...of communist barbarism.

But it was the 1970s,
and I was just a local functionary.

Orders came from the top,
from Andropov and Brezhnev themselves.

The Romanovs deserve a decent burial.

You have my word
that I will do everything I can

to restore their dignity.

Good.

Then we can discuss royal visits.

Mr. President,
on the left, please.

That's it. Yes. And three, two, one.

She has no business
lecturing me like that.

On the top row, a little to your left.

We all know the truth.
It was in this house

that the Romanovs' deaths were sealed.

Not the Kremlin.

She should be careful.

Or she will end up
with a bayonet up her arse too.

- What did he say?
- Hmm?

How thrilled he is to be here.

Ah.

He's very kind.

Hmm.

And call this a palace?

We have shithouses
in St. Petersburg that are bigger.

And thank you.

Your Royal Highness.

- The Queen?
- In with the prime minister.

- Let her know I'm back, will you?
- Sir.

Within hours of arriving back in Moscow,

President Yeltsin ordered the excavation
of the forest near Ipatiev House.

He personally insisted the very best team
of forensic scientists be sent.

Bonjour.

And, sure enough,
they soon found bones.

It was clear a horrific murder
had taken place

in line with historical accounts.

Skulls smashed in by rifle butts,
bullets embedded in temples.

After the slaughter,
it seems the Bolsheviks

doused the bodies in acid,

burned their clothes,
and buried them in a mass grave.

The authorities are confident

that these are, indeed,
the Romanov remains.

But, because of the acid damage,

the authentication process
has hit something of a dead end.

Russian pathologists
have been painstakingly

assembling the fragments,

grouping them by sex,
and cross-referencing with dental records.

But there's only so much they can do.

Which is why they have now come to us.

And more particularly,
His Royal Highness the Duke of Edinburgh.

I'm told
the best way to identify

and authenticate the remains
is through DNA.

And it turns out, the best,

the only place in the world
for bone DNA sequencing is here.

In England.

Aldermaston. Yes.

Mmm. And, apparently,
because of the age of the bones,

they can only use a particular kind of DNA
that passes through the maternal line.

Mitochondrial.

- Oh, you knew that?
- Yes.

How?

I read.

Mmm.

Anyway, since your maternal grandmother,

Princess Victoria of Hesse,

was Empress Alexandra's elder sister,
making the tsar's wife...

My great aunt. Yes.

It turns out
you can be incredibly useful.

Well, that's a first. How?

By helping them to prove if the remains
are, or are not, the Romanovs.

By giving a sample
of whatever it is that they need.

Can you be more specific?

Hair? Blood? Saliva?

Didn't you ask?

No.

Why not?

Weren't you curious?

Not even a little bit?

To get to my DNA,
they took a sample of my blood,

which they vacuum sealed in a plastic bag.

- Then they have to extract it?
- Yes.

Using these strange machines.

Look, you see? I did a drawing there.

Then to separate it all out,
they use this centrifuge.

Oh, yes.

Eventually, all you're left with
is this tiny amount of DNA,

which they subject
to an electrical current.

It's amazing what they're doing. 500 years
ago, they'd have been called alchemists.

It is alchemy.

What started out as a pile of my blood
has been transformed into this image.

A unique pattern
of parallel bands called "lanes."

The idea behind it
is that we compare these bands

with those of the Romanovs and, um...

Hey, presto.

It was a match?

Yes, with 98.5% certainty.

Which means the case can be closed
and the Romanovs buried with dignity.

- All thanks to you.
- No, thanks to science.

No, to you.

You were the key.
It was your DNA that unlocked a mystery.

All I did was give a sample.
Science did the rest.

Thanks to this, we'll be able to learn
about your family in their final days.

You don't find this exciting?

Seeing one's entire essence and history.

What? Reduced to a series
of banal, anonymous lines?

I'm sorry.
There is nothing banal about this.

This is our essence. Our lives.
Written in another glorious language.

Oh, damn!

Nigel, can you just keep it down, please?

I'm sorry, sir. I'm a little deaf.

And the implications that
no matter what choices we make,

our basic code remains the same, is so...

Determinist?

Profound.

We're used to looking at
genetic predisposition for diseases.

But what about behavior?

Our decisions?

Do we really have any choice at all?

Is any of it really an accident?

That we're even here.
In this moment. Talking about this.

Or is it somehow all preordained?

Where do you live?

I live in Moscow.

It's had the most
extraordinary effect on him.

Not just the science
but connecting with his own past.

You know how he's always been
restlessly searching, scratching away,

trying to make sense of
who he is or what he is.

He's always been something of a mongrel.

The uncovering
of the Romanov remains

seems to have reawakened a fascination
in him with all things Russian.

Why?

The person he's related to, the tsarina,

was born Alex of Hesse
and was German, not Russian.

As German as white sausage.

Don't tell Philip that.

Because now that it has been confirmed
that we are going to Russia,

he's been reading book after book.

Really?

Yes, connecting
with his orthodox roots.

God help us.

Oh, I'm all for it. It's just
so good to have him engaged again.

It's recently felt as though
we've been growing apart,

but this Russian trip
feels like a shared adventure.

A shared passion.

We have so few
shared interests these days.

What did the window cleaner
see in the Kremlin?

Hmm?

Nothing. That's the trouble
with iron curtains.

That's very good.

Very nice to see you.

Your Royal Highness.

Mr. President...

I stand here today

as the first British monarch
to ever set foot in Moscow.

You are the first democratically
elected leader in Russian history.

Thanks in part to family ties,

there has always been a strong bond
between our countries.

But in recent years,

that close alliance has become estranged.

Warm ties of kinship became frozen

into a decades-long winter.

There have been times

where we have
seemed to live in different worlds.

In making this historic trip,

I hope to usher in not merely a thaw

but a comprehensive new footing

based on cooperation,

understanding,

and respect.

♪ Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall ♪

♪ Humpty Dumpty had a great fall ♪

♪ All the king's horses
And all the king's men... ♪

A new era of partnership

in which both of us

can flourish together.

Golden words,
Your Majesty.

I'm terribly sorry, ma'am,

but there's been
a last-minute holdup with the funeral.

Oh no.

It seems they're unable to identify
two of the bodies.

Thank you.

This is very disappointing.

We come all this way on the understanding
that my relatives will finally be buried,

to discover the burial can't take place.

Why not?

One or two of the bodies
still remain unidentified.

And Russian orthodox authorities
continue to demand certainty

they haven't mistaken
the tsar's body for his cook, for example.

This is before we get to infighting

between the Russian government
and various factions

of the Romanov family.

Not to mention the local authorities
of Moscow, St. Petersburg,

and Yekaterinburg about when and where
the burial should take place.

Oh, give it time.

The great Russian bear
is taking its first steps

after years in captivity and suffering.

Bound to be dysfunction.

And it's not just disappointing
regarding that.

Disappointing for us too.

I had hoped we'd spend more time together
on this trip. I've barely seen you.

I've been busy.

Clearly.

Exploring, among other things,

the grotesque injustices visited
upon my relatives by your relatives.

Let's not get proprietorial
about relatives.

And reminding myself

not only how much I gained

but how much I gave up when I married you.

Such as?

My career. My autonomy.

My faith.

You might recall I was born...

Honestly, a convention of genealogists
couldn't work out what you were born.

I was born Orthodox.

Just one of our many differences.

How else are we different?

After 47 years of marriage,

we might ask ourselves,
how are we still alike?

We've got different interests.
Different passions.

Different churches.

I'm more energetic.

- More restless.
- More curious.

Your desire for calm,
for stability, for silence,

not to question, not to probe, not to...

- Provoke.
- ...interrogate,

has sometimes left me...

What?

Lonely.

I wish this DNA business
had never happened.

My disenchantment long predates that.

Oh.

So tell me.

How have you addressed
this disenchantment and loneliness?

This is not the time and place.

I disagree.
It's the perfect time and place.

Well, I've had to seek
companionship elsewhere.

Companionship?

Yes.

Companionship.

Intellectual companionship.

Spiritual companionship.

Oh Lord.

I told you this is the wrong time.

Who?

Well, in essence, it's a group of us.

A gang.

A community of friends

focused on carriage driving,
and competitions, and house parties.

All right.

And, I suppose,
the closest friendship is with Penny.

Romsey?

Your godson's wife.

Friendship, Lilibet.

She's half your age.

Couldn't it just be a secretary?

A nice girl from the typing pool
with a short skirt and adoring eyes.

It's not that sort of companionship.
That would make me even more lonely.

Penny is in the family. A married woman.

Yes, and entirely focused
on her marriage and her duty,

who would never compromise you.

But it does compromise me.

It compromises me.

Me.

As your soulmate.

And if I ask you...

to end your companionship.

That would be a mistake.

I don't want to be asked to give up
something when I've done nothing wrong.

But I accept that the newspapers
and some other idiots

might see me in the company
of a beautiful young woman

and, well, jump to the wrong conclusions.

So I'd like you to do something.

What?

I'd like you to befriend Penny.

I'd like you to be seen with Penny.

You're asking me to legitimize your...

My friendship.

My companionship. Yes.

You might learn something too.

Tell me, what would I learn?

How the Romanovs really met their death.

We already know that.

- They were slaughtered by the Bolsheviks.
- Yeah, well...

The Bolsheviks pulled their triggers
and used their bayonets,

but who has the blood on their hands?

- Welcome.
- Hello.

- Welcome to Windsor Castle, Lady Romsey.
- Thank you.

- The Queen is down by the stables.
- All right.

- Shall we?
- Yes.

Indeed, ma'am, though Sanction
is looking a little spooky, I'm afraid.

- Oh.
- He may be trouble.

Oh, hasn't lost his appetite, has he?

No, clearly.

- Well, just keep up the good work.
- Will do.

Lady Romsey has arrived, ma'am.

Thank you.

- It's Emily, isn't it?
- Yes, ma'am.

- How are you settling in?
- Very well. Thank you, ma'am.

- They keeping you hard at work?
- Of course.

Well, thank you very much.
I'll pop back in tomorrow.

See you tomorrow, ma'am.

- Morning.
- Your Majesty.

- Very hearty breakfast.
- He's a greedy lad.

Mmm.

Your Majesty.

Shall we walk?

- The Duke of Edinburgh...
- Ma'am.

...said you might have a theory
about who's to blame

for the murder
of the Russian Imperial family.

Ah, it's not my theory, ma'am.
I'm... I'm just a curious student.

That's such an attractive quality.

Curiosity.

Some historians suggest
that your grandparents,

George V and Queen Mary,

were presented with a clear opportunity
to save the Romanovs but chose not to.

I can't imagine such a thing.

King George and Tsar Nicholas
were first cousins.

They even looked alike.

No, my grandfather
would never, could never,

do anything to harm his beloved Nicky.

It's possible
the motivation came from elsewhere,

as suggested by
one or two other accounts I read.

Mmm. How many did you read?

Oh, half a dozen.

Good heavens.

Oh, on the English side.
A few more on the Russian side.

Ah.

That will have impressed him.

And, um, have been alerted to a source.
Here, at the archives in Windsor.

Oh.

- Hello, Ruth.
- Good morning.

- Good morning.
- Your Majesty.

So, yes, uh,

the diaries of young Edward VIII,

where he described a breakfast
with his parents in 1917

and a letter that had come
from the Prime Minister Lloyd George.

The letter stated
that he had agreed to send a ship

to bring the Romanovs to safety
here in England

but wanted the King's agreement.

Shall I go back with a yes?

To their rescue?

Show it to your mother.

Her judgment
is unfailingly better than mine.

What say you, my love?

Do we send the ship?

No.

It's possible one might come to regret it.

You see, there was a rivalry
between the two women.

Oh.

Um...

Excuse me. Um...

Yes.

So there was a rivalry
between the two women

that went all the way back
to their time as young German princesses

before they were married.

Alexandra was prettier
and from a grander family.

But it was my clever grandmother, Mary,

who Queen Victoria initially wanted
for the elder son of Edward VII.

Yes.

But only after
Alexandra had first rejected him

and married Nikolai Romanov instead.

Hence, the rivalry.

Mary didn't want the prettier, grander
Alexandra here in England upstaging her.

It's a nice theory.

Quite aside from the fact my grandmother
was devotedly married to King George,

I'm surprised none
of the 13 books or more,

which you so impressively read,
in all their languages,

focused on what I believe to be
the real reason Queen Mary

didn't want to have Alexandra
here in England.

And it had nothing to do with
a rivalry between two women.

My grandmother was far too busy
protecting the monarchy

against a popular revolt to worry about
being looked down upon by Alexandra.

Giving asylum to the Romanovs
presented a much greater threat.

There was widespread opposition
to the tsarina in England,

as she was seen as pro-German
at the very time we were at war with them.

Your Majesty.

The truth is, Queen Mary...

We have received news from Russia.

...was devastated
when she heard they'd been killed.

...Imperial Majesty the tsar is dead.

But as sovereign,

one cannot show those emotions,
and one buries them.

And that silence
becomes part of one's own... DNA.

But how commendable of you
to show such interest and...

and do all that reading.

Since the death of my... daughter,

I have somewhat disappeared into books.

- And carriage driving.
- Yes.

Yes. That's been a huge help.

It's quite a gang.

So I gather.

It's not Norton's thing?

No.

Our interests, our lives,
seem to grow further and further apart.

I could never leave him.

Nor Broadlands.

Leonora's grave is there,
and I need to see that every day.

And the house needs me to focus on it.
He... He needs me too.

I'm glad to hear of your... sense of duty.

And of your commitment to your marriage.

And to a house that has been
so important to me personally.

Philip and I honeymooned at Broadlands,
as you know.

Yes. Yes.

It's important people understand how close
the ties are between our families.

Should they see the Duke of Edinburgh

out and about with a...
beautiful, younger companion,

it would be an irritation
if they felt at liberty

to jump to any wrong conclusions.

So, why don't you come in the car with me
to church this Christmas at Sandringham?

To nip all that in the bud.

Thank you for coming along.

Merry Christmas.

- Morning.
- Morning, Your Majesty. Merry Christmas.

- Merry Christmas.
- Morning, sir.

I know that rather well.

Merry Christmas.

This is Timmy.

Please, can you take him
to Buckingham Palace with you?

Thank you.

The prime minister, Your Majesty.

- Prime Minister.
- Your Majesty.

I'm delighted to say,

Russian scientists have now confirmed
the final set of remains as Tsar Nicholas,

which means the official burial
of the Imperial family can take place.

Oh. Good.

In his phone call with me,
a positively giddy President Yeltsin

said he hoped a line could be drawn
under the matter, once and for all,

and that friendship and cooperation
between our two countries could resume.

Was that giddiness or... or tipsiness?

Good question.

I believe Yeltsin is sincere
in his desire for democracy.

One just wishes he led with greater...

Sobriety?

Authority.

Reports out of Russia suggest
the landscape is dangerously unstable.

And the worry is it will result in
the need for hard-line leadership again,

and we will be back to square one.

Hmm.

Except... I prefer
to think of square one with Russia

as a state of friendship, not enmity.

One forgets our two nations,
thanks in part to family ties,

have been more successful
as allies than enemies.

Seen like that,
the revolution and Cold War

are a blip in an otherwise
long and happy marriage.

Speaking of happy marriages,
congratulations are in order.

Your wedding anniversary this weekend.

Yes.

Forty-seven years.

And counting.

You and Mrs. Major?

Uh... Uh...

Twenty-four years this year.

We must all be doing something right.

What do you suppose that is?

Mmm.

One of the most memorable accounts
of a long, successful marriage

comes from Dostoevsky's wife, Anna.

She and Fyodor were, she said,
of... contrasting character.

Different temperaments.

Entirely opposing views,

yet they never tried
to change one another.

Nor interfere with the other's soul.

This, she believed, enabled her
and her husband to live in harmony.

By having nothing whatsoever in common?

Hmm.

The key to a happy marriage, it seems.

Ready. Where is it?

Oh!

Ah. Where's this one? Where's this one?

No, you're not
in the least bit interested.

And leave it. Good dog. Good dog.

Where's it gone? Are you ready?

Come along. Come along. Come along.

Here. Where's that?
Where's that? Let's go back here.

Dogs! Dogs! Come along.

Are you ready? Oh!

There we go.

Very good.

Now, there's another one.

Who wants a treat?

Who wants a treat? Come here.

Come here. Good.

Come. Good.

Good.

Where's it? Are you ready? Are you ready?

Are you ready? Where is it?

Oh!

Where's this one? Where's this one?

Where is it?

Good boy.