All language subtitles for The.Great.S01E05.720p.WEB.H264-TRUMP

It is nivering.
A bit.

But I am glad to be going.
Thank you for taking me.

Oh, I enjoy your company.
You laugh at my jokes.

And your tales of German childhood
are whimsical,

and make me wish I knew
what a kugelhopf was.

It is just a cake.
Oh.

I'd envisaged it being a small beaver.

That changes the nature
of many of your stories.

You should prepare yourself
for a little unpleasantness on arrival.

Yes. Of course.

Ladies.

Empresses.
How wonderful that you've come.

You are an inspiration to us all.

Would you care for a macaroon, General?

We brought 300 for the men.

Do, do you mind if I take a couple?

Please. Follow me.

What is that smell?

Bodies. Mud. Horse shit.

Smoke of cannons.

It's not a place for women.

If it is a place where Russian men die,
then it is a place for us.

How is the war progressing, General?

We have received some setbacks.

But what the peevish Swede entirely lacks
is our ferocious Russian fighting spirit.

That, in the end,
always guarantees victory.

So we're losing.

Catherine, focus on the men.

And only victory. They need hope.

May I offer you a macaroon?

I have lost my fingers.

Oh.

I'm so sorry.

I'll just pop it in your mouth.

It's pistachio, if that's helpful.

Thank you.

Thank you for coming to see us.

Of course.

Good morning, Captain.
Would you care for a macaroon?

There's strawberry, or...

A strawberry macaroon
would be a wonder to me.

Ahem.

I'm told you're prepared to pose
for a battle painting.

Yes, indeed, General.

Whatever will help fire the men's morale.

A grand, victorious painting
of the two of you is sure to do that.

Just dressing the dead.

What?

Not enough dead Swedes, so we're
dressing our dead in their uniforms,

so as to make a victorious pile.
Huzzah!

I'd love a confident smile

of inevitable victory, if you could.

Stop.

Are you all right?

Of course.

Whatever it was is
floating on the wind now.

Do you need to? We can stop.

I need to scream. But not into the air,

but at the world,
for allowing this to happen.

War is inevitable,

since cavemen smashed
each other's faces in

for control of the fire stick.

It cannot be. It is a choice.

Things that are built into our nature
are not choices.

Can't decide if I can stomach
a macaroon or not.

Fuck!

There you go. Let it out.

We have to object to this.
We cannot subject men to this nightmare,

their lives and hopes extinguished.

Russia cannot continue on this path.

We will prevail.
At what cost?

Well, that is the trick to it.

Knowing when the cost is still bearable
and when it has tipped too far.

That seemed too far.
I've seen worse.

But I admire your heart and fire.

I am scorched by that, certainly,

and will not forget it.

What?

I hoped it would happen.

You are becoming a Russian.

Holy fuck!

Indeed.

You fucking savage.

You must stop the war.

I just did. Madam Dymov won.

I need food. I'm starving.

I think a moose tartar prepared with
fresh horseradish and a quail's egg.

I was at the front.

Ah, did Elizabeth take you?
Why does she do that?

As if the men need to have macaroons
thrown at them by a woman with big hair.

They're dying up there.

Hope so.
Not much of a war if they're not.

And why are we at war?
I...

needed to teach the Swedes a lesson,

like my father before me.

You need to stop it.
I will. When we win.

We do not seem to be winning.
Hence, I cannot stop it yet.

You must.

Because men are dying?

That is the way, with a war.

It sits hard in your eyes,
and I understand entirely,

as you are tender of heart,
and soft of thought, but‐‐.

Tell them to grate the horseradish,
not slice it.

Dying horribly, and pointlessly.

For the glory of Russia.
Not pointlessly.

Talk to the Swedes.
I'd rather die.

Well, you will not, but thousands are.

Yes. Happily so,
for the glory of Russia.

I will stop it when we win,
then they will not have died pointlessly.

You are not Russian, so do not understand,

and so I will forgive
your annoying tone. Go.

I wish to eat in silence.

Tell Louis I will want borscht as well.

Hi.
Oh, hi.

What the fuck?

Uh, it's nothing.

You're bruised.

He got a little out of hand.
Fucker!

It's nothing.

I am fine. Do not talk of it.

Feeling better?

I will bathe and dress,
and we will play bridge.

As planned.

Svetlana?

Run me a bath.

Fuck off. Go.

Oh, Grigor.
Try this black bread with moose lips.

Makes my cock hard.
Which, considering your wife, is a feat.

Fucking delicious.
Mm.

There's Louis' amazing borscht, too.

Mm.

Remember when we shot
that fucking pig?

The fucker ran straight at us.

We were dead if we hadn't hit first time.

Well, I hadn't hit.
Huh.

Great day.
Hmm.

You want some?
I've eaten.

We should go play handball after this.

Mm.

Let's go now.

Uh, m‐maybe leave the food.

Louis' borscht?
Are you out of your fucking mind?

Of course I'm bringing it.

Zeus!

Oh! Aah!

You all right?
Hmm. Yeah. Mm.

Feel a bit funny now, actually.
Funny?

Mm. A bit... farty.

You want to stop?
Maybe it was the cheese.

I'll have some of this.

That's better.

Shit fuck!
Feeling all right?

Yeah.

Mm‐hmm.

Countess Belanova is back from Europe.

I have an urge to tell you about
the bridges and bell towers of Florence.

Love to hear it.

Jesus.

Oh, I've missed being at court!

You have been missed.

Ah! I'm coming!

Aah!

Why are you stopping?

Apologies. I don't feel quite myself.

Can't stop thinking about it?

I really can't.

Covered in blood, and mud.

It's a horror.

And I am standing there,

in a ridiculous dress,
handing them a pistachio macaroon.

You brought him a moment of respite.

It is not enough.

I'm ashamed.

You felt like a foolish princess.

Exactly.

And you will tell me to forget it,
sleep soundly.

"They liked their macaroons."

I cannot bear the inaction.

Heartlessness.

Of me?

Yes.

Of everyone in this fucking court.

You felt like a foolish princess
because you are.

What?

You stood in a gold dress
while men died around you,

handing out sugared treats.

It is as it looks and feels.
I do not judge you on it.

But spare me the precious,
self‐righteous loathing.

You are cruel.
I'm sorry, I just‐‐.

And you are a fop
who does not care for anything

but wine, and love, and fucking poetry.

I do care for wine and poetry,

but I also care for the dozens of boys
I grew up with on my estate

who are now fucking dead from this war.

So you know boys who died,

and your response is to toast them
with a sonnet.

It is as weak as my macaroon giving.

They go knowing this is Russia,
and they are cannon fodder.

So I try to do them the honor
of not confecting pointless outrage

and fake fury.
It is not fake!

Perhaps not. But it is pointless.

I disagree.

I don't like you much right now.

So be it. Truth is truth.

I will not live a powerless life.

You are perhaps living
in the wrong country, then.

The Emperor's going to die.

How is he?
He's very ill.

Can we go in?

Well, everyone's being kept out here.

Fear of contagion.

He's been vomiting continuously
throughout the night,

and he runs a high fever,
and he has fits of wild delirium.

The doctor and archbishop
are in there with him.

Excuse me.

How is he?

Extremely ill.

The fear is that it may be cholera.

Cholera?

Which I suspect he will have caught

from a possessed, nocturnal animal.

Probably a badger.

Where would he have come across
a possessed badger?

If it is cholera,
he will die, will he not?

It's a strong possibility
that we must face.

Oh, my little man.

The doctor is working hard on cures.

It may be something else.

Has he said anything?
Is he talking?

He speaks intermittently.

Much of it is deranged.
Said he was a wolf.

Wanted to eat Swedish
children for breakfast.

And there was some talk
of what he'd like to do

with various ladies of the court.

I'll spare you the details,

before more bouts of diarrhea
and vomiting.

I will go in to see him.
Do not risk your life.

I want to be there for my friend.

I had no idea your husband
was so brave, Georgina.

Oh, yes. Famously so.

Fuck off, birdie.

I fear it is the blue death,
but he is strong,

and with God's blessing,
he may survive.

That is our earnest prayer.

It's definitely cholera, you think?
Without a doubt.

Terrible affliction.

There are various possible aids
and cures I have perfected.

Um, he should wear a dead mouse
around his neck.

To draw the disease from his body.

Well, hello, furry friend.

He must avoid all blue food.

Are there blue foods?

I will make a restorative vinegar
and arsenic drink for him.

Good one.

Am I dying?

If this is cholera,
he could be dead within the day.

Right.

That means‐‐ Yes.

Yes, it will be yours.

You will rule Russia.

After all our planning, it just‐‐.

Falls into your lap.

In light of this terrible situation,

a meeting is being called to deal with
the possible transition of power.

To me.

Indeed. It seems so.

You are the next...

should the worst happen.

Prepare with prayer,

and the senate will be called.

I look forward to it.

Not him dying. That is bad.

And sad. And we hope for the best.

God will be with us.

He always is.

It's happening.
It's really happening.

I feel a bit... dizzy.

As do I.

You must prepare for the meeting.

There are a lot of things to touch on.
I'll try and order them for you.

You must carry the senate, Empress.

Inspire, and reassure.

That is my way, Orlo.
I know.

Destiny has kicked the door open
earlier than expected,

but we shall run through it.

Have you ever come, vomited,

and shat yourself all at the same time?

It's amazing.

What are you doing?

What you wished me to do.

Something.

Fuck!

You looked at me,
and the look said, "Be a man."

You poisoned him?

Arsenic. From the wall,
in his borscht.

What happens to us when he's dead?

Think what Peter provides for us.

You didn't want this?
Yes!

No. I wasn't saying‐‐
I was just‐‐.

Our situation is complex.

Yet also simple.

We have a safe life with him.

Luxury, security, a place in court.

Who's he gonna be replaced by?
Catherine?

We're nothing to her.

What happens to us then?

Grigor?

Grigor!

We're here.

Ah, George.
Oh, dear.

There, there.

Oh.

"I will lead this country to a new age."

"Dawn."

"Place."

All of them.

What will you wear?

What? Who cares about that?

You're presenting yourself
as the Empress of Russia.

You must look good.

It only matters what I say.

Honestly, as a woman,
it's far more important what you wear.

Marial, that is‐‐
Incredibly true.

I shall dig out some options,

and then you can help me write my list.

What list?

Of all the people who've disparaged
and abused me,

as a servant.

The people I will have revenge on
when he dies,

and you raise me
back to my former station.

You will do that.

Won't you?

Don't want to be presumptuous,
and while I enjoy being your servant‐‐

"enjoy" being a strong word,
basically inaccurate,

I‐‐ Your list can wait.

Let me write now. Please.

This was my destiny.

We talked about it in this very room.

And you saved me that day.

I thank you.

I will pick your dress.

It's a great day for me.

For Russia.

Them, too.

Hi.

Hi.

I am writing.

If Peter dies,
you'll become Empress.

I know.
It is an extraordinary day.

I can stop the war.

And in doing so,
perhaps win our argument.

It did taste bitter.
And made me want to punch you.

I will tell you the truth, always.

I accept the danger of it.

So you want this.

To be Empress.

I do.

And you with me.

No one yells at me so well.

Perhaps I need that.

We need each other.

Wow.

He was eating this.

Peter.
Oh, my God. Yes!

Someone's fucking poisoned him.

How do you get to that?

He ate it. He's dying.

The dog ate it. He's fucking dead.

I guess.

Yeah, I see. Definite...

possibility.

Also mention regional stability,

and its importance.

Reinforce the status quo.
Don't scare them.

Promise them broad things.

Leave the war alone, and, and‐‐.

Gentlemen.

It is a terrible moment for our country.

I came here...

a German.

And as soon as I laid eyes on the land,

my heart's rhythm changed.

And my blood rushed...

as if I was being born
for the first time.

If the Emperor dies,

I want you to know that my whole being

will be at the people's service.

The first thing we must do
is to end the war with Sweden.

To pull our poor, suffering troops
back from the front,

so that no more young Russian lives
are wasted in vain.

There will be no more war.

Huzzah!

So you wish to relinquish to Sweden
the land they have taken?

They are deep in our territory.

They have Vyborg.

What's Vyborg?

A town.

Of some 50,000 souls,

who may not love the fact
that they are now Swedish,

and dine on meatballs

and lingonberry each night.

Well, I have not seen the current
military map.

Also, Empress,

there is the matter of the famine
in the Urals.

The Urals, was it?

I'd love a map at this point.

Of course. Your newness is...

what it is.

The Empress' fresh,
outsider take on things will be an asset.

Let me get on top of these situations.

Mm, that would be excellent, Empress.

I have made notes.

Be in no doubt

that the Russian people

will become educated,

and will be liberated

from servitude.

I will end serfdom immediately.

That‐That's not so‐‐.

You wish to dismantle

the whole economic and cultural basis
of our society.

Fucking German.

I understand

it is bold, but we will have‐‐
ARCHIE: The Empress surely jests.

It's not something
we need to deal with now, and‐‐.

I‐The details of these things...

will be‐‐
Worked out in time.

Uh, of course it is too much
to expect the Empress‐‐.

To know what she's talking about.
I agree.

She is new,

and will need our guidance.

At this point I feel we'd all like to pray

for the Emperor's swift recovery.

Uh...

Yes. Of course.

You have a rash on your neck.

I do?

Right.

That was a disaster in there.

It, it could have gone better.

I don't know anything about Russia.

You will. They will get to know you,
and you them and‐‐.

Did you hear?

The Emperor was poisoned.
It's possible.

Chekhov confirmed it.

Arsenic in his borscht.

Poisoned?

Was this you poisoning him?
Of course not.

No!

Then who?

And if there is another "who,"

maybe it's a coup.

Someone else.

Who is trying to take the throne.

So you've heard.

Marial.

Actually wasn't.

I hate him,
and I'm glad he's going to die.

About in there, before, Patriarch.

Just had a stumble.

With my husband dying,
I am, of course, distraught.

I will gather myself.

Of course.
Which brings me to Ivan.

Ivan is still alive,

and next in line to you, Empress.

Ivan the Small? Be serious.

How do you know he's still alive?

You told me.
What?

In confidence.

And it is some gossip I'd heard.

I have no actual anecdote
about anyone seeing him.

Perhaps others have heard,
and wish him installed.

And have poisoned Peter.

And do not want me.

If Catherine becomes Empress,
I'm fucked.

We all are.

And we don't even know this Ivan.

We, we can't be seen to do this.

Do what?

The Emperor is on his deathbed,

and you're literally eating cake
and drinking wine.

It's Boris' birthday!

It looks like you're celebrating.

We are. His birthday.
He nearly died last week.

But think how this looks.

Now, there's a curfew.
We've got to send everyone home.

No. There's no point stopping it.

If Peter lives, we'll all be fine.

If he dies, we're all fucked.

So, might as well have a party.

George, do you agree?

I do. We are perhaps all doomed,

so let's enjoy it while we can.

Come.

Hey!

Hey, what are you doing?
Ivan. Ivan.

- We're looking for Ivan.
- Get out!

- Excuse me.
- Is Ivan here?

Get out! May I speak to
you? What are you doing? Excuse me.

Excuse me.

Seal the palace.

No one is to be allowed in, or out.

Captain, guard this door.
No one gets in.

What are you doing?

You must stay in the Emperor's quarters
for your own safety.

You will remain there

until I am certain
security has been restored.

You can't tell me where I can‐‐.

If the Emperor was a target
for assassination,

then so are you.

Well done, Lieutenant.

Confine both the ladies
in the Emperor's quarters for now.

Tend to their wishes.

No one is allowed to enter
or exit without my word.

Including them.

Is he allowed to do this? Confine us?

If there's a killer within the palace,

the family must protect itself.

Do not attempt to leave.

There are guards outside the door.

You didn't poison him, did you?

No!

I knew you hadn't.

You have a good heart.

How terrible I asked you that.
Slap me if you like. I deserve it.

No.

It is a bewildering moment.

You seemed ill‐prepared
for leadership in the state room.

Of course you didn't do it.

You saw that?

A small stumble.

You had no idea you could
one day be empress.

Exactly.

Aunt Elizabeth.

My poor boy.

How do you feel?

Blood is seeping out of me,
so not great.

I heard servants whispering.

Poisoned.

Yes.

Must be a mistake.

Everyone loves me.

I'm an astonishing Emperor.

Yes.

Oh. You're here.

Someone is coming for us.

That little cunt Ivan, no doubt.

Possibly, but not necessarily.

I always said we should kill him,

in case his supporters tried something.

Are you pregnant?

- No.
- Disappointing.

The nobility love me

because I turned the palace
into a big party

and delicious buffet, and‐‐

And women love me
because of my massive cock.

There's no need to speak.

If I die, you'll be ruling Russia.

Be ruthless.

Torture every traitor.

Be terrible.

I wish I'd been terrible.

Peter the Terrible.

In many ways you were.

Are.

I have regrets.

Things I wish I'd done.

I wanted to rename July after myself.

Call it "Peter."

It's a wonderful idea.

Now you must rest.

You need to kill the fucker.

Ivan.

This is insane.

I don't want to, either.

He's sweet.

But they're searching for him.

They'll find him.

And we'll be in danger.

Right.

He's a little boy.
I'm sure we can talk him out of it.

He doesn't want to be Emperor.

Now Ivan,

a lot is going on today.

The Emperor is sick,

and may die.

They're coming for me, aren't they?

That is what I wanted to
talk to you about.

These are bad people who would use you
to do their bidding.

Would they let me have fresh air,

and wine,

and boys to play with?

I have tried
to treat you well, my darling.

I know you have.

Tried.

Is that what you want?

We can do that for you.

An estate. Friends.

You seem young for wine,

but... okay.

She is scared, Lizzie.

I see it.

I am not.

But I do not wish bloodshed.

I love bloodshed.

You don't even know what bloodshed is.

You are a little boy who thinks he does,

but you fucking don't.

Bitch!

Let's pause.

And I mean dog paws!

Ruff!

I'm nine, for fuck's sake.

Maybe this conversation is done.

You seem tired and grumpy, darling.

What do I do?

He is intransigent.

There is a knife in my pocket.

We will see each other soon.

I will be kind.
I promise.

Aunt Lizzie,
help me draw some words to say.

Of course, darling.

Whatever you want.

They're praying for his recovery.

I thought they all hated him.

They're searching for Ivan.

Whoever it is.

Clergy and guards.

It could be Archie.

Peter says I need to kill him.

Elizabeth, too.

It's madness.
They're right.

What?

Orlo.

I cannot kill a child.

I do not want to, either,

of course, but we must.

We knew there would be blood.

You are this close to power,

and this close to death.

Velementov got here very quickly.

He's locked down the palace,

taken control.

If it looks like a military coup,
but is he for you?

Empress, you have to do it.

Archie.

You called for me.

I had a horrible dream.

I'm in the forest.

I keep having this one.

There's a boy with a crown
in a dark forest.

I come to a fork in the woods.

There are two roads.

I take a step. Next thing I know,

my stomach's been ripped open somehow.

My guts are hanging out.

And I'm on the ground.

This raven flies down
and lands on my face.

It's pecking at my guts
while I'm still alive.

I scream.

Emperor.

Here you go.

Any word on his health?

You got here fast.

I was on my way back when I heard.

Can still ride like the wind.

Will you support the Empress?

Let's worry about him dying first.

I'm protecting her.

What is it?

We lost the Empress.

Wake up.

Come on.

Please live.

I'm not ready.

Kill the cunt.

Save Russia.

No.

Life of one to improve life
for everyone else.

I want a transformed Russia, like you.

But not this way.

You criticize Orlo for inaction,

but you are just the same.

I can't.

I'll do it, then.

No!

The Empress is missing.

You got here quick, is my point.

Yes, you keep saying that.

I don't know what‐‐

Hello.

We are just‐‐
MARIAL: Upset, and hysterical.

As women often are.

Guards and clergy are
looking for Ivan, Archie.

Do you know anything about that?

I am loyal to the Emperor,
and when he dies,

I'm to be loyal to what is best
for the country,

and the Russian people.

Is Ivan in the palace?

Do we know that?

Are you both behind the Empress?

We must do what is best for Russia.

If Ivan is that,

so be it.

I fear that is a dead end, Archie.

Take him and display him
in the Great Hall.

Just so those who would rally behind him

realize the futility
of their little quest.

Obviously, my preference was always you,
Empress.

Goes without saying, um...

I...

You killed that boy.

You're welcome.

I feel...

a bit hungry.