Original subtitles

Enough, my son.

The penance is over.

Even for the sin you have not yet committed.

Let St.

Basil bless your enterprise.

We had two reasons to go to Russia.

First, to launch her back on a mission for the British Secret Service. And

second, to enable Phileas to conduct the latest in a series of wagers with his

old friend, Count Cougar.

You didn't let your guard down.

How could I with you pressing me? You have to let your guard down. You have to

risk everything.

Otherwise, the maneuver doesn't work.

It's impossible.

It's against human nature. That's why it's so effective.

It is human nature to cling to things, Vern. But when you let go, you become

free. Oh, how true, Phil.

And we all have so much to let go of, don't we?

And some of us end up parachuting into Russia as a result. Are you ready yet,

Rebecca? Ah, five minutes to the location of the first mirror.

Presuming that our man in Riga got the right information.

I'm gone.

I'm gone.

So why is the British Secret Service so worried about a bunch of parabolic

mirrors going to Russia?

What? Those can have a surprising number of military uses, Jules.

Signalling troop manoeuvres, that sort of thing.

I'm chasing mysterious things around the world. It's a secret service. You look

so dashing. Of course. What else are we here for?

Ah! What the devil is that?

I did it.

It's Pash Patu's happy possible dresser, master.

You like it? It is burning my leg. Yes, and I am prepared for that.

I lost,

fortunately. No idea what I'd have done with 600 serfs.

We're not due to meet again for another five months, but Nikolai simply couldn't

wait.

He's a man of passionate enthusiasm, sir.

What drives him to it?

What drives you to it?

The need to let go.

Talking of which... Wish me luck.

Seems an awful lot of trouble over a few mirrors. Oh, the British Secret Service

never hesitates to put Rebecca to an awful lot of trouble.

Strange thing is, she loves it.

The estate's coming up, Passport 2.

For the bags, Bax.

Yes, Master. I bring everything.

Welcome to

Russia. My dear.

Brilliant.

Oh, it's wonderful to be here, Nikolai.

Remember the last time when we raced the steamboats down the river Thames, blind

falls? And I went to ground on Eel Pie Island. Yes, yes, I remember it well.

what times we had, and there will be more.

Yes, and this, Nikolai, is the perfect place for some splendid competitions.

Don't tell me that's little Natasha.

Oh, she's my warden for my brother, Jack.

Oh, my condolences.

Natasha.

Lovely to see you again.

Oh, how kind.

Thank you very much.

Ah, Natasha, may I present my friend, Monsieur Jules Verne of Paris.

Verne, as you may have guessed from his lack of manners, is an artist.

Paris, that must be such a wonderful place to live.

If you have money.

But when you're starving in a garret, it's... How romantic.

Romantic and uncomfortable.

But this, this seems to me romantic and comfortable.

And stifling.

Like a prison.

We have none of us three here.

North, north, east.

Wasn't there a Rubens there last time?

Oh, I got tired of them. I sold all my paintings.

More of your grand schemes to improve the estate.

I remember when you got so fired up about bauxite mining.

The only thing that concerns me at the moment, my dear friend, is beating you

every contest that we undertake.

Natasha, show Mr. Verne to his room. Mr. Fogg and I will be in the library.

and Basil the Blind, our local saint.

His eyes were sightless, but he saw the truth.

I love the colors of these old icons.

It must be wonderful to be able to paint.

Yes.

Yes, I wish I could.

But aren't you a painter?

No, no, no, no.

A writer.

A writer?

Yeah, well...

Well, not an established writer, a couple of plays, lots of notes. I

figured out what to do with them yet.

Would you do something very personal for me?

Yes, yes, anything.

Wait here.

Typical young bohemian, this friend of yours.

Mind in the clouds, not living in the real world at all. Yes, artist.

Ah, cheers.

But at least he's a painter, which is acceptable.

For one awful moment, I thought he might be a writer.

What's wrong with writers?

Writers and intellectuals who have corrupted the Tsar, turned him from

traditional values to liberal heresies. I've come to the conclusion that writers

are the worms in the ample society.

Wouldn't have many books without them, though, would we?

This will be interesting.

It's the newest sport in the world.

I want to know if I should sacrifice my life to literature.

You wrote this?

In secret.

It has taken me two years.

Two years of fear.

Fear? If my uncle finds out I'm writing a novel...

He will send me to the convent of Santa Stasia, which would be a living death.

The love of God don't let him see you with that.

You don't know what he's capable of.

Chain is complete, Count.

And all our colleagues have been informed of the correct procedures?

I have instructed each of them personally.

The system has been tested.

The speed of light is on our side.

That is good.

That is very good.

You should be working in a great restaurant in Paris.

You think the master's going to let his servants go gallivanting off to parts

unknown with their passport?

I don't think so.

None of us will ever leave this estate till the good Lord takes us up to

Unless we are bad and the count sends us to Siberia. He wouldn't do that.

Hasn't done that to anybody for nearly a year.

Such skill, such dedication, such selfless devotion to the master's vest.

Ah, cars for my serfs within the last hour. Would this be possible in the

Um, no.

One would just send one's valet to the shops.

Yes, for a soulless machine -made object, these men love what they do.

that right, Gregor? They could not be happier, master.

You know, Nikolai?

I can never come to terms with the fact that you literally own him.

Well, no, I merely own the land, and these fellows belong to the land. It's

simple, like that.

And what will happen when the Tsar abolishes the whole system?

The Tsar understands that the bond between the noble and his turf is the

Russia. I guarantee he will never destroy it.

You can guarantee what happens in St. Petersburg, shall I?

You dissatisfactorily, sir.

We shall see.

Won't we?

Shall we begin at, say, 5 ,000 pounds?

Why not?

Natasha!

Natasha!

Natasha!

Saint Basil the Blind.

Huh, St. Basil, your eyes are open. They should be closed.

It's great, this secret monster of hers.

You should not have come here.

Who are you?

What's that weapon for?

It is not a weapon, sir.

Count Sugarin and other noblemen who think like him believe Russia should be

first nation to send a projectile into space.

Hey.

This is the kind of scientifically forward that I have dreamt of.

We need her.

You?

What are you doing here?

Well, I was looking for you. Instead, I find this magnificent creation.

The world should know that Russia can produce something like this.

No truth.

My uncle insists no one must know about it until it's ready.

This device has cost many millions of rubles.

And we are prepared to take extreme measures to protect it. No.

Only the fact.

That you and Mr. Fogg are the guests of the Count protects you in the situation

in which you find yourself.

I understand, but I've been working on something like this for so long.

Please, let me help you.

Prince, there is so much to do to get the moon gun ready.

Monsieur Fern has so much to offer.

I will discuss the matter with the Count.

But in any event, you must swear not to say a word of this to anyone outside

this instinct.

Do you agree?

I agree, Jack.

I agree.

Stop!

Ah!

The tools of the executioner.

Elevation's wrong. No, the gun needs to be at 60 degrees to achieve the right

arc.

What explosives are you using?

400 ,000 pounds of fulminated gunpowder.

And the projectiles, how much do they weigh?

19 ,000 pounds.

Generating an abrupt of 1 ,800 pounds per square inch, resulting in escape

I have done flight plans, sketches, calculations, something like this ever

I was a boy.

Oh, uh, what about the training program?

Training program?

Yes, for the moon voyager. You'll need to be able to withstand the force of

gravity, use a breathing apparatus, pilot the craft, and of course, take

photographs.

Man must go into space, Prince.

It's his destiny.

What is France you keep talking about, then, Passepartout?

France is a country, my dear Elena, where Frenchmen live, and Frenchwomen

of course.

Does the Tsar rule there as well, then?

The Tsar, Sergei, doesn't rule everywhere.

There are oodlings of countries in the world besides Russia.

Now, don't you be taking us for fools, Passepartout. There might be one or two

other countries, but not oodlings.

And I reckon the Tsar is in charge of them all, one way or another.

He's a great man, the Tsar.

They say he's going to set us free. Quiet, Sergei. You know how the Count

about that.

Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen.

Now, I wonder if any of you have ever thought about space travel.

That's going to be very hard to beat, Count.

Must be my Viking ancestors.

Congratulations, Phileas. You now own one -third of the Cougaran estate,

including over 200 men, women, and children over whom you have power of

best. Ah.

Well, then, perhaps it's time to stop.

I urge you, Count, let us cease the wager here and now, with honor intact on

both sides.

You will deny me the chance to win back my heritage?

Are these the words of an English gentleman?

So, for our next contest, we will pit everything that I have left in the world

against your winnings and everything that you brought with you.

Everything?

The clothes on my back?

Your flying ship.

Your man, sir.

Passepartout is not a serf. But he is a contract.

And if I win, I'll merely obtain his services until the end of the contract.

You don't wish to renege?

Do you?

That is not, Nikolai, a question to ask of a man of honor.

Oh, good. There's plenty of space for all the protective padding the Moon

Voyager's going to need.

Seats, breathing apparatus, a porthole to gaze back at the repeating Earth.

It's going to be wonderful.

What is it, sir?

Oh, uh... Forgive me, I haven't told you yet, have I?

Told me what?

That your novel made me grind my teeth.

I see.

With envy.

Envy?

Yes.

Yes, you see, there were real people in it.

People with souls.

You really think so?

The thing where Prince Yusupov comforts a dying hermit?

That moved me to tears.

And a love between Katerina and the French officer, especially in the

Before the wolves come.

I cried the whole time that I wrote that.

And when the lieutenant says, my heart beats in your hands like the wings

of a butterfly, Katerina. And Katerina replied, when you go into battle,

you carry my soul in your saddlebag.

And when I look into your eyes, I see where my future lies.

Got you.

Next stop, Prince Sergei Grigoryev.

Well, I wonder if you two princes have a mirror -oriented north -north -east.

Distance to the moon!

218 ,657!

Miles of disparity!

Speed required to break through the Earth's gravity!

1 ,200...

You know, I think he's starting to get it.

Say it again.

You are no longer a star.

You are becoming the world's first.

Lunanon!

Lunanon!

Yeah,

you see, it fits perfectly.

Looks like a real spaceship, doesn't it? You're convinced science will make the

world a better place, aren't you, Julius?

Of course.

Aren't you?

There is so much evil in the hearts of men.

And so much good.

Do you think so?

I know so.

Oh, I'm so sorry. I forgot to turn on his air supply.

There we go.

The cards are favoring you tonight, Phileas.

It's amusing, isn't it?

How we ascribe human motives to pieces of different paper.

Every inanimate object is part of the great soul of the world.

You are too much of a materialist, Phileas.

You Russians and your mystic visions.

We English know that a card is a card and a horse is a horse, and that's all

there is to it.

No visions for us, Nikolai.

You have triumphed.

It was luck, my friend.

No, no, no. Brilliant playing.

Congratulations, Nikolai.

I'm being restored to your estate.

My condolences on your losses.

I will, of course, arrange your passage back to England.

So is it goodbye, master?

Luck is not with me, Passepartout.

It's sometimes the way.

You have played a game. Some games you win, some you are losing.

And some, perhaps, you shall never play at all.

What's going on?

I'm saying goodbye to Passepartout, Verne.

I regret to say...

I agreed to put up the remainder of his contract and the Aurora as part of a

wager. I have lost the wager.

You've gambled away past part two.

Mr. Fogg consulting me. I insisting.

It is now a matter of honor. Of course.

Are you out of your mind?

It was a wager, Vernon. It was insanity.

How can you go around risking everything in a single turn of a piece of card?

That is the point. Don't you understand?

That is the whole point.

Isn't life enough of a gamble, Fogg?

Why do you need this idiocy?

I can only suppose, Vern, that it must be the result of a deep flaw in my

character.

Everything went as I planned it.

So, we have the dirigible.

Yes, we have the dirigible.

And I have lost my soul.

A mirror message came from St. Petersburg just before sunset.

So, the Tsar has been given his ultimatum.

He will make his reply at noon tomorrow.

For 12 hours count, the fate of Russia hangs in the balance.

Go up to the gun.

Make sure the second projectile is packed with explosive.

I will tell Natasha to keep the Frenchman away from the gun cave until

over.

Natasha?

Natasha?

Retreat.

Explosive?

Why is the objective being filled with explosives, Natasha? That makes us into

weapon, not a spaceship.

It never was a spaceship, Jewel.

Do you remember the elevation of the gun?

Death was far too low. The projector would have fallen on... St. Petersburg.

But why?

Because that's where the star is, mon chauvin.

Put your hands in the air, very slowly, please.

I'm sorry, Jules.

This was what I was trying to prevent.

What a fool you must have thought of me. No. All the talk about the evil in the

hearts of men, it was the evil in your heart. I was trying to save your life.

Yes, at whatever cost to me.

And to Russia, you have corrupted my niece, sir.

Jules, forgive me.

That is for giving my serfs ideas about their

station. That's what this is about, isn't it?

You plan to wipe out the Tsar to stop him from freeing the serfs.

No harm needs come to the Tsar. It still is a parabolic lyric. It is almost

instant communication with St. Petersburg.

If we receive a positive reply by noon tomorrow, we'll know the Tsar has wisely

torn up the proclamation.

Only a refusal to do so will mean we have to fire the gun.

Pray that we don't see refusal.

Why? Because I plan to attach you.

To the mouth of the gun. It would be a very appropriate death, don't you think,

for someone so enthused about technology?

No, please.

It remains to me. I sent another message tonight to the convent in St. Eustacia.

The nuns will be coming to collect you at noon tomorrow.

Really, Nikolai, there's no need for this. No, no, I insist, my dear Phileas.

The carriage will take you to Smolensk, and from there you will be able to take

the train back to England. I am certain that as soon as you are home, you will

be able to restore your fortunes.

And there's still no sign of Vern.

After the altercation he had with you last night, he insisted on leaving

You will probably find him already at the station in Smolensk.

Give my regards to Natasha, won't you?

Yes, sir.

Of course.

And Passport, too?

No, you'll treat him well.

I know you will. Like one of my own.

Goodbye.

Bye, dear Phileas.

You will always have my deepest admiration.

Goodbye, Nikolai.

This isn't where the damn thing stopped. We are going home.

Oh, Lord.

Good,

good.

Survivors will look up from the ruins of St. Petersburg and know the old Russia

has been tamed. Good, good.

How long will it take for you to reach the capital, your honor? In this

just a few hours.

Time is of the essence if we get there before the army is able to regroup.

Providence has smiled on you, sire. Providence has nothing to do with it.

You see?

mechanism. You really know how to enjoy yourself, don't you, Jules?

Rebecca, they're going to blow St. Petersburg off the map.

Yes, and you with it, by the look of things.

Can you wriggle free?

And break my neck?

Phileas told you. You know, Rebecca, I don't have such high regard for Mr.

Phileas Fogg anymore.

Well, possibly not.

But he was right about one thing.

The need to let go.

The need to let go?

Jesus is waiting for you.

I can't go to the convent now. My uncle is about to blast a young Frenchman out

of the mouth of a giant gun.

I would never do such a wicked thing. Oh, he doesn't know what's best for

anybody. He's completely mad.

Oh, shoot.

Oh.

Tino, that's a receipt from Moscow, your honor.

This bar has rejected your ultimatum.

So, Gregor, the time has run out on the Robin Hood.

Go down.

Load the second projectile. As you wish.

Sergei!

Do it, Sergei.

We're going to fire this one first.

The one without explosives.

Begin to count stuff.

Actually, no.

Considering the fact that you have my friend suspended in the mouth of the

You, what are you doing here?

I'm here, Kugarin, to tell you to your face.

Did you cheat at cards? That you cheated me, your friend?

I did it for Russia.

Well, that's not good enough, Count. I have already sacrificed my honor for it.

If you imagine I will hesitate to kill an unarmed man, you are mistaken.

If he is unarmed.

Thank you, Rebecca.

Splendid timing.

Ah, the mirrors.

It's the mirrors, isn't it?

Nikolai.

It's all done with the mirrors, isn't it?

I do think this is something that Phileas and his former friend have got

out between themselves.

I beg you. You don't take her. Get out.

In for trying to kill Jules Verne.

And this is for mistreating my manservant. And

this.

Absolutely fantastic.

Hmm. What have you been up to then, Tilly? A little croquet, Rebecca.

A few games of cards.

Nothing really worth discussing.

This, I believe, is yours. Thank you.

And Vern.

In one piece.

Good.

I'm very pleased indeed.

Me too.

We parted on bad terms.

I said them harsh words.

You have strong views.

Yes.

Yes, I guess I do.

Well, that's that sorted out, then.

Oh, you know that advice you gave me about letting go?

Really useful.

Joel!

You're alive!

Master!

Miss Rebecca!

You know what this means, don't you?

Yes. The Tsar is alive and the Tsars are free.

And so are you.

What has become of my uncle?

Well, Natasha, I suppose he's free too.

In a way.