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No. Please.

Stop! Please!

State your name.

Alexander Ilyich Rostov.

Address?

For the last four years, I have resided

in Suite 317 of the Metropol Hotel.

Why?

My house was burned down.

Occupation?

It is not the business of
gentlemen to have occupations.

You do not seem to appreciate
the gravity of your position.

No, I fear I understand it perfectly.

You left Russia for Paris
in the spring of 1914?

Yes, I remember apple
blossom in the trees.

In all likelihood, it was spring, yes.

What concerns us here

is your return in 1918.

Why did you come back only
a year after the Revolution?

You must have understood the
reception a man of your...

nobility would receive.

I missed the climate.

Are you the author

of this poem of 1913:

"Where Is Our Purpose Now?"

Were you the author?

It was attributed to me, yes.

Many consider this poem

a call to revolutionary action.

Hard for us to equate with a man

who has clearly succumbed to
the corruptions of his class

and now is a threat against
Russia and her people.

I am one of her people.

You were.

It is our inclination to
have you put against the wall.

But there are those within
the senior ranks of the Party

who, because of your poem,

count you among the heroes
of the revolutionary cause.

Therefore, it is the
judgment of this committee,

now the Metropol is
under full Party control,

that you be returned to the
hotel of which you are so fond,

where you will remain
for the rest of your days.

And make no mistake,

should you ever set foot
outside of the Metropol again,

you will be shot.

Gentlemen, I think I
can find my own way.

Move.

That day, the Count
thought his life was over,

but in truth it was only the beginning.

Not just for him but for me, too.

And in the years that followed,

Count Alexander Rostov would
come to mean the world to me.

Your Excellency, we
didn't think you'd...

Good to see you, Vasily.

My suite is on the
third floor, gentlemen.

The lift or the stairs?

How are we supposed to
win on the field of battle

if we can't decide between
the lift and the stairs?

Have you ever been on
the field of battle?

The stairs it is.

Ah, ah, ah.

It's a beautiful view
of the Bolshoi, isn't it?

All these things are yours?

S-Save for the floorboards
and the bed, yes.

I read your poem.

The tone of your voice suggests

that you are not a great admirer.

I found it hard to believe

those words came from the
mouth of a man like you.

What is the meaning of all this?

I'm here to show you to your quarters.

These are my quarters.

What is this place?

Before the Revolution, these rooms were

for the servants of the hotel guests.

Well, it has a window at least.

And I'll just about fit on this bed.

Ah, G-sharp, I believe.

Yes. This will do
very nicely, thank you.

Your diminished
circumstances won't allow you

to keep all of your possessions.

But I will allow you to
take a few personal items.

And the rest?

Becomes the property of the people.

I should add, we've liberated
your currency from the hotel safe.

Food and board will be provided.

Life for you and your
kind is over in Moscow.

You must never leave this hotel.

If you do...

I'll be waiting.

Apologies.

I never thought to ask your name.

My name is not your concern.

Well, thank you. You have
carried out your duties

with the greatest
courtesy available to you.

You open the door,

raise the weights...

... once a week.

Without fail, Alexander.

Helena.

Good evening, Andrey.

Your Excellency, bonsoir.

I wasn't sure if you would be
dining with us this evening.

I was assured food and board.

I'll show you to a table.

Thank you.

Imbeciles.

A saltimbocca requires
veal wrapped in prosciutto.

Where is the prosciutto?
Where is the sage?

We have no prosciutto, Chef, or sage.

Then this is not a saltimbocca!

- No, Chef.
- It is merely badly cooked veal.

Sorry, Chef, we're out of veal.

Of course we're out of veal!

A saltimbocca on table seven.

For the Count.

The Count?

Is he here?

- What's he doing?
- I believe he's refusing to be beaten.

Everything to your
satisfaction, Your Excellency?

The saltimbocca...

... with chicken instead of veal?

Mm-hmm.

And instead of prosciutto,

shaved Ukrainian ham?

In place of the sage,

and I must admit this took me a moment,

but I think it's nettle.

A man with taste is a
rare thing these days.

Nettle it was, Your Excellency.

Your palate remains, uh, unsurpassed.

Bravo, sir.

Bravo.

Your Excellency.

I-I didn't expect you.

Yaroslav, for you, I am happy to wait.

Hello.

Hello.

I like your mustache.

Oh.

I like your, uh, hair.

Alexander Ilyich?

Is it really you?

Prince Nikolai, my dear
friend, it's so wonderful to...

It's just Nikolai now.

You're looking well.

How have you been?

I-I'll be with you in a moment.

Tell me everything.

The last time I saw you,
you were playing Bach

at one of your
grandmother's dinner parties.

I guess I'm still playing
Bach at dinner parties.

I-I'll be here most weeks.

And your mother and sister are well?

They're in Switzerland.

Oh, yes, I think I had heard that.

Are you still, uh,
living at the old palace?

They've taken it over.

But, um, they let me keep a room.

Well, at least we have our health.

Well, I-I'd better get on.

Of course. I'm sorry, I
didn't mean to keep you.

Perhaps w-we could have a drink
at the bar after my dinner.

I'd like that very much.

Nikolai.

They can take away your
house or your rooms.

They can't take away who you are.

I thought you were in Paris.

Why on earth did you
return to this madhouse?

To get my grandmother
safely on a ship to England.

Audrius, could we have the same again?

Yes, Your Excellency.

Thank you.

I was sorry to hear about your sister.

What are we still doing here?

When I was a young boy,

not long after my parents died,
my grandmother the Countess

invited a boy over from
the neighboring estate.

She thought it might cheer me up.

Obolensky he was called.

He beat me at a game of draughts.

I didn't take it well.

Tears were shed, pieces were scattered.

I might even have uttered a curse.

Later that evening,

she found me still full of rage.

And she said,

"There's nothing pleasant
to be said about losing,

and that Obolensky boy
certainly is a pill,

but, Sasha, my dear, why on earth

would you give him the satisfaction?"

Obolensky...

That's not Vladimir Obolensky, is it?

Of the Nizhny Obolenskys?

- Yes, the very same.
- Oh.

Your grandmother's
correct, he is a pill.

He was.

They burned him alive in his house.

They won't stop, Sasha.

I know someone wh-who can...

provide papers ensuring safe transit.

We-we could leave the country.

Unless we were recognized en route.

Well, you'd have to clip your wings.

No, that alone is a good reason to stay.

Sasha, how can you joke?

Because if I take it seriously,

I could fall into a dark despair
I could find no way out from.

There's no bars across the doors.

Once you're out of the
hotel, we could disappear.

Go east, go west.

We could start again.

As who? As what?

Does it matter? We would be alive.

This is still my country.

Thank you.

To Russia.

To Russia.

Is it just us now?

Yes, you're so good.

Apologies for my tardiness.

What will it be today, Your Excellency?

Just the usual, if you'd be so kind.

I was next.

I will be with you
in just a moment, sir.

I was here before he was.

Oh, uh, I have a standing
appointment at 12 on a Tuesday.

If you would just please wait.

Why should I? Why
should he go before me?

Well, as I explained, I have a...

He has a standing appointment.

I was here first.

You'll have your
appointment soon enough.

Your Excellency.

Hey!

Thank you.

Oh, that won't be necessary.
I know it by heart.

Oh, you must be the
guest from the top floor.

Yes, delighted to
make your acquaintance.

Oh, um...

Well, yes, I will have
the fillet of sole.

Would you like a glass
of wine with your fish?

A Sauternes, perhaps?

Oh, I think a bottle of Château
Baudelaire might be more fitting.

- Of course.
- Thank you.

- Your fish, sir?
- Ah.

Ah, that looks delicious. Thank...

Mmm.

- Where did they go?
- I beg your pardon?

- Your mustaches.
- Well, they, uh...

- I... it...
- Is it true that you're a count?

- It is.
- Have you ever known a princess?

I have known many princesses.

Was it terribly hard to be a princess?

Terribly. Especially so
since our glorious revolution.

Is that any good?

Didn't you have a lunch of your own?

- At a different table?
- I didn't like it.

With my compliments.

Hmm.

So, how would a princess spend her day?

Like any young lady.

In the morning, she would have lessons.

In the afternoon, she
would visit with friends.

And at lunchtime, she
would eat her vegetables.

My father says that
a princess personifies

the decadence of a vanquished era.

Well, perhaps a few.

Not all, I can assure you.

Don't worry. Papa knows
everything there is to know

about the workings of a tractor,

but absolutely nothing about
the workings of a princess.

Have you ever been in a duel?

Not exactly.

But my godfather was a second

on more than one occasion.

- A second?
- When two gentlemen

agree to duel, they
each appoint seconds,

lieutenants who settle upon
the rules of engagement.

What sort of rules of engagement?

The time, the place,
what weapons will be used.

If it's pistols, how many paces.

One of the duels my godfather seconded

sprang from a dispute that occurred

in this very hotel, between
an admiral and a prince

whose differences came to a
head one night in the lobby.

Were they in love with the same woman?

I don't think a woman was involved.

A woman is always involved.

Yes, well, whatever
the cause, at the time,

the hotel was managed by
a fellow named Keffler.

And it was well known that he kept

a pair of antique pistols in
his office behind a painting,

so that if a challenge was accepted,

carriages could be summoned,

and parties could be whisked
away, weapons in hand.

In the hours before dawn?

To a secluded spot.

The reality, I'm afraid,
was not quite as romantic.

Hmm.

The hotel manager would
like to speak to you.

What? Might I finish my lunch first?

Of course.

Thank you.

I appreciate your stopping by.

It's my pleasure.

It's been brought to my attention

that certain members of the staff, uh,

when addressing you,

h-have continued to
make use of certain...

um... amplifications.

Amplifications?

Yeah, "Your Excellency,"
and what have you.

Ah. Yes.

- I suppose they have.
- Hmm.

Well, if it, you know,
if it were up to me, um,

you know, naturally enough...

well, you know, goes without saying,

but what with...

Uh, honorifics were
elegant things in their day,

but they, uh, they do seem to
have outlived their usefulness.

It is the business of times
to change, Mr. Halecki.

And gentlemen to change with them.

Quite.

Might I ask who brought
this to your attention?

You know why they allow this hotel

to continue operating,

serving the clientele that it does?

So that everyone can be watched.

So they can find those
disloyal to the party.

It's been that way since the Revolution.

It's only gonna get worse.

This hotel is a dangerous place.

Especially for you.

As you can see, Vasily,

I'm in the middle of a conversation

with one of our guests.

My apologies to you both,

but if I could see you for a moment...

Very well.

Um...

Eh...

How do you propose we go about it?

We'd have to wear a disguise.

I-I can steal some coats

from the Red Army soldiers
that are staying at my home.

You walk with confidence,
no one will pay us any heed.

- Just another Bolshevik soldier.
- Yes.

Outside, I'll make sure
there's a car waiting,

and from there, we'll
go to the train station.

There's Red Army soldiers
all over Moscow, but...

these papers

that I can have drawn up,

they should get us as far as the train.

From there, we lose
our Red Army insignia

and we walk the 200 miles to Minsk...

... and to our freedom.

And-and our belongings?

No.

We can't take anything with
us that might give us away.

Not even Helena.

How much will you need?

Do you think that might suffice?

- Well, maybe... some...
- Oh.

Thank you.

Will they really shoot you

if you go outside?

You appear and disappear like a spirit.

- What's your name?
- Nina Kulikova.

Count Alexander Ilyich Rostov.

- Where is your father?
- He's working.

He's always working.

- And your mother?
- Dead.

Oh, I am sorry to hear that.

I lost both my father and
my mother at a similar age.

People aren't lost.

They're taken from us.

Ah, little Nina,

how are we going to survive these
endless days stuck in this hotel?

I've found a way to escape.

I have a passkey that opens
every door in the hotel.

It's important to remember that
there are rooms behind rooms

and doors behind doors.

Come on.

- Where are you taking us?
- You'll see.

This is the perfect place

to destroy secret messages
and illicit love letters.

You do receive illicit
love letters, Count?

Most certainly.

There's more.

- I'm not sure we should...
- Don't be such a fuddy-duddy.

Look, we can spy on the ballroom.

Come on.

If you pull this lever,
it throws the ballroom

into complete darkness.

This way.

Oh, she's the maid who used

to change my sheets.

- ... eyes closed, eyes closed.
- Her name's Marina.

Every day she collects leftover food,

to make a feast for her little boy.

His name's Yasha.

These are all the
novels and travel guides

hotel guests leave behind.

This was my godfather's favorite chair.

They're just things.

All my memories exist within them.

Through here.

Come on, there's more
I have to show you.

Come on.

Look.

I didn't know this was
here. What's all this for?

Papa says some government work

is too important even for the Kremlin.

Come on, let's go.

Hide.

How many do we have

- to get through tomorrow?
- Uh, 14 in the morning

- and 12 in the afternoon.
- Only 12?

That we have gathered evidence against.

Evidence? What evidence do you need?

Give me a man and I will find a crime.

Five more names.

They're rounding more people up,

putting them on trial.

It doesn't matter to
them whether a crime

has been committed or not.

- That's all the more reason for us to go.
- For you to go.

And quickly, while you
still have a chance.

I saw your name on a list.

I picked up the papers today.

A few more weeks and everything
will be in place for our escape.

We don't have a few more
weeks, it could be days.

Hours.

You have to leave now.

But you have to come with me.

I can't.

For the same reason I
couldn't leave before.

Helena?

Yes.

There's no use me telling you that...

she'd want you to live your life.

Perhaps I don't deserve to.

You ever change your mind...

... these will get you safe passage.

You are a true friend.

But no.

Now, you must go. Tonight.

I will.

After I've played Rachmaninoff
on Russian soil one last time.

And would you know, Nina,

Nikolai Petrov is a real-life prince?

Yes.

His father was a famous general,

but fighting wasn't in his blood.

His one great love is music.

And they say that since
he was three years old,

he spent more time with a
violin in his hand than without.

Nikolai.

Nikolai.

Nikolai!

Nikolai!

Your friend did some business

with an element we've been watching.

I'm curious as to why he needed
two sets of travel documents.

Years later, the Count would tell me

that he wished he'd had
the courage to do more.

In truth, had he left
the hotel that night,

he would have died on the
pavement a few seconds later.

And I would not be
alive to tell this tale.

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