All language subtitles for The.Crown.S06E02

My name is Mario Brenna.

I am 40 years old.
I am a professional photographer.

I work in advertising and fashion,

but the market has gone crazy
for society work.

Everyone wants pictures of celebrities.

Pictures that show famous people.

They are no different.
They are human beings, just like us.

Making mistakes, just like us.

The old rules have changed.

Now there are no rules.
It's every guy for himself.

People, they pay one,
two hundred thousand dollars

for the right shot.

But the right shot is hard to get.

You have to be like, uh... like hunters.

Killers.

The competition is, um...

crazy.

You have to use the imagination
and be creative.

Take risks.

And I take more risks than anyone.

Which is why I am the best.

And why today Mario Brenna is as famous
as the people whose pictures he takes.

My name is Duncan Muir.

I'm 57 years old.

I'm a professional photographer

working out of Ballater,
near Aberdeen in Scotland.

- Duncan!
- Uh-huh?

It's past nine!

My bread and butter work
is traditional portraiture.

Weddings, graduations, that sort of thing.

But my passion,
and what I'm best known for,

is photographs of the royal family.

Keep going. You've got space.

- Is that it?
- Lovely, Duncan.

Stop now! Stop!

Where the Queen goes,

I go.

There she is. Quick.

It's very nice to be here.

She's a very special lady.

My wife sometimes jokes
that I love the Queen more than her.

Well, I do love the Queen.

I'm a proud Elizabethan.

I get fed up
with people criticizing the royal family.

I want to say,
"You try and do what they do."

Showing up come rain or shine,

punctual and prepared
with a kind word for everybody.

Does the Queen know me?

I wouldn't say she knows me,
but she often smiles when she sees me.

- Ah, there you are, Duncan.
- Here I am, ma'am.

Don't you ever get tired of it?

Not if you don't, ma'am.

No danger of that.

Is that for me? Thank you very much.

She has a unique way
of making us all feel connected to her.

She unites a divided country
through admiration for her.

Not many people can do that.

I think we'll miss her terribly
when she's gone.

I'm aware that we've been
running a little behind schedule

and that some of you
have engagements to go to.

You'll be pleased to know that we have
just three items still left on the agenda.

We have the latest information
about the new royal website.

Thank you.

Robin.

Yes, I'm happy to say that since
www.royal.gov.uk was launched in March,

approximately one million people
have been logging on every week.

- What have they been doing?
- Logging on.

Nothing to do with timber, Granny.

In other matters, we are pleased
to congratulate the Prince of Wales

on becoming patron of
the Royal National College for the Blind,

the Welsh National Opera,

and the Stained Glass Museum in Ely.

And the Princess Royal on becoming patron

of the Royal College of Paediatrics
and Child Health.

Is that it?

No, I'm afraid there is still item 12.

It simply states "confidential."

- Yes.
- Why is that?

I'm afraid, Your Majesties,
Your Royal Highnesses,

we must still discuss
Diana, Princess of Wales.

It seems that no sooner
had she brought the princes back

from their holiday in the South of France
than she returned to Paris

for a secret weekend with Dodi Fayed.

While she, obviously, has every right

as a divorced woman
and a private individual

to do as she wishes...

...this latest development has given us
and the government some cause for concern.

If one were to imagine a friendship

between the Princess of Wales
and Dodi Fayed

becoming a committed relationship,

there is not just the potential damage
to the royal family

from a public relations point of view,

but also a fear that his father might use
the association with the Princess of Wales

as leverage, and leave the authorities
in an uncomfortable position.

How? I don't understand.

Well, because if the Fayed family
is seen as good enough

for the former wife of the next king
and mother of the king after that,

then how can the government
reasonably deny him

the British citizenship
he is so actively seeking?

- Precisely.
- Oh, that girl.

Where is she now?

I want a progress report.

Dodi and the princess,

is it a success?

It seems very much a success, sir

No! No!

Lots of talking and laughter.

Talking? What good is talking?

Is there more?

Are they sleeping together?

I... I wouldn't know, sir.

Put the maid on the phone.

- Sir?
- The maid.

Get the maid.

Sorry, sir.

Bianca, where are you?

It's the boss.

Mr. Mohammed?

I want you to tell me
if Mr. Dodi and the princess are intimate.

You know the question I'm asking.

I don't know,
but they sleep in one room.

Wha...

One room? Are you sure?

Yes, sir.

One room, one bed.

Thank you.

How do I find
a good paparazzi photographer?

Not just any idiot with a long lens.

I want the best photographer
on the Mediterranean.

Grazie. Okay. Ciao.

Ciao, ciao, ciao, ciao, ciao.

What are your plans
for the rest of the summer?

Well, from here, I go back to London.

Mm-hmm.

To see the boys before they go
to Balmoral with their father.

Then I go to Bosnia
with the landmine charity,

but that still leaves time.

Because I don't get the boys back
from Scotland until the 31st.

What about you? What are your plans?

I was supposed to be getting married.

Remember?

Oh yeah.

And now?

Now I'm probably not.

I'm sorry.

Does she know about us?

I thought I might fly to LA
when you go to Bosnia.

And tell her.

That's brave.

Not as brave as flying to Bosnia
and walking in fields of landmines.

Do you know anything about it?

- No.
- It's actually a huge problem.

Quite apart from landmines killing
thousands of people, often children,

landmine survivors are
frequently rejected by their communities

because of their disfigurements
and injuries.

That's terrible.

It was a man called Ken Rutherford
who drew my attention to it.

He started the Landmine Survivors Network.

Well, after his Jeep
hit a landmine in Somalia,

he lost both his legs.

He said to me,
"Every survivor has a date."

"The day they stepped on the landmine."

He said, "Mine was December 16th, 1993."

And I said, "Mine was
the 29th of July, 1981,

my wedding day."

Wow.

At least you still have your legs.

- I do.
- Yeah.

Losing those...
would be a crime against humanity.

Do you think?

See, I've always thought
my arms were better than my legs.

Um...

Mmm.

Yeah.

It's a tough call.

What do you think I like most about you?

My eyes?

No, but I do like your eyes.

My credit card?

No.

But I do like your credit card.

Your hands.

Why my hands?

Because men's hands are so important.

Like their lips have to be
just the right temperature.

Are mine the right temperature?

I don't know.

Hmm. Need to check.

Hm.

Yeah.

Oh my God.

Hm?

- What are you drinking?
- Bloody Mary.

Thanks, John.

- Welcome back! Hello!
- Hello, all.

Here he is, Casanova himself.

Don Juan, Omar Sharif. Dodi-Dodi?

How are you, Dad?

Fellowes.

Right.

Right.

Thank you for letting me know.
Obviously, I'd like to be kept informed.

Certainly, sir.

We're back!

Put your hands in the air!
This is a robbery!

Move up.

Oh!

There's two there. Thank you very much.

Ooh!

- No. You've got to do it, we go past you.
- That means nothing.

- Well, I put the card down...
- No, wait!

- Mmm.
- ♪ Hush, hush... ♪

- I won too.
- You don't even know the rules.

- I do know the rules.
- You don't.

Watch the red mist coming.

Ma'am. Telephone call, Mr. Fayed.

- Not now.
- He said it was urgent.

There's a big, red box
where you press the button

and all the cards just shoot out.

So, do you get
the same amount of cards every time?

Hi, I don't have long.

I know. You're with the boys. Um...

I'm just calling to let you know that,

apparently, there are
some photos of us on the boat

being offered to newspapers.

You said no one knew we were there.

I know. It makes no sense.

When are they coming out?

I don't have any more information.

As soon as I do, I'll be in touch.

The photographs
were bought by the Sunday Mirror,

who, we understand, paid £250,000.

The fiercest bidding war
in Fleet Street history.

The Sun and Daily Mail have each paid
£100,000 just to reproduce the images.

What's in the photographs?

I gather they have
several of the couple kissing.

Do we know when
they're going to be published?

This Sunday.

With an extensive advertising campaign
on television in the days before.

I'm afraid it will be
almost impossible to avoid.

Harry, Pa's here.

Can you pretend to be
less excited about leaving me?

It's not because we're leaving you.

No, it's 'cause you're going
to your beloved Scotland.

With its rain and dead animals.

- I don't know how you can stand it.
- We like it. It's fun.

Oh, it's fun.

- Where will you be again?
- Bosnia with the landmine charity.

And then?

And then... few days with friends.

Like Dodi?

I might go back on the boat with Dodi.

What?

He's weird.

He's not weird.
He's sweet, and he means well.

Harry, we really need to go.
Come on, quickly.

Quickly.

Harry, he's waiting.

You're the best hugger.

- Come on.
- Thanks.

Ah, hug!

Really? It's not for long.

It's three weeks. It's an eternity.

I need a world-class hug
to fill me back up.

- All right.
- Do it properly.

I've got my bag.

Phone call every day.

- Yep.
- Do you promise?

Mm-hmm.

I promise.

- Hi, Harry.
- Hi, Pa.

- Oh, another one.
- All right?

- Good.
- Got you in your ear.

Have you had some fun?

You look better
like that. Perfect.

You got seatbelts?

Fingers.

Everything all right?

They can't wait to be rid of me.

Give it a couple of days,
they'll be dying to see you again.

Have you got
exciting plans for the summer?

Mm.

I heard Bosnia.

Mm-hmm.

The landmines charity.

Good for you. So proud of you.

Thank you.

Can I make a, um...

request?

Even though we weren't brilliant
at being married, can we, um...

can we be brilliant at all this?

I think so.

And not just for them, but for us too.

She didn't get to keep
the man of her dreams,

but the friend of her dreams.

I mean, it's much more than a friend.

Partner.

"All right," she said,

giving the brave smile of the runner-up,
not the winner.

Let's be brilliant at divorce.

Thank you.

- But why?
- Stop it.

Hi.

Good morning, ma'am.
Um, Mr. Dodi asked me to give you this.

It's a satellite telephone.

So you can stay in touch
over the next few days.

- Right.
- In case things develop.

- Okay.
- Ma'am.

Thank you so much, Diana. Thank you
for coming. This is the ambassador.

- Delighted.
- Thank you for having us.

Right. Ready?

This is the mayor,
Mr. Begović.

Welcome.
Your visit means so much to us.

Now that the war is over,
we were afraid the world would move on.

But the work is only just beginning.

That's true.

- Welcome.
- Hi.

- They would like to show you the village.
- Please.

Hello up there.

He was
with his father to collect wood,

and then suddenly there was a loud bang.

And how long
has he had his prosthesis for?

So they uncovered a mine here yesterday.

- The Sunday papers, sir.
- Thank you.

This one works with the explosion
when you step on it.

Mm-hmm.

And the fragmented mine, well, it has...

it scatters little pieces
of plastic everywhere.

After waking him up
in the middle of the night?

Yeah.
It was hilarious. Best night ever.

- Let's do it.
- Ready? Go, then.

Come on.

Now, you remember the drill.
If there are any doubts,

stand absolutely still
and get our attention.

Ma'am.

Do you have a moment?

I'm afraid
it's an 11-page spread, ma'am.

In total, the Sunday Mirror is
in possession of 78 photographs,

which are rapidly being syndicated
around the world.

Paris Match
paid a million francs.

Lunch.

The Globe,
an American tabloid, paid over $200,000.

The images have proven lucrative
beyond anyone's wildest imaginings.

And now that photographers realize
they can become rich overnight,

interest in the princess's private life
is unlikely to die down any time soon.

Diana.

One would almost feel sorry for her...

if one weren't so cross with her.

- Diana!
- Diana!

Diana!

Ladies and gentlemen,

the Bosnian war is over.

People are trying to rebuild their lives,
but they can't

as there are hundreds of thousands
of landmines still hidden.

Every 20 minutes across the world,

someone is maimed or killed
by anti-personnel landmines.

Diana, does the Queen
know about your new boyfriend?

Gordon, if we could stick
to the subject at hand, please?

Are you in love, Diana?

Please, can we stick
to the subject of landmines?

We're not answering personal questions.

What about William and Harry?
What do they think of your new boyfriend?

- Is this the surprise?
- Gonna marry Dodi Fayed?

Where's next after Bosnia?
Egypt?

Does Prince Charles approve?

Dodi gonna put you
in one of his films?

- Please...
- You planning a future together?

- Just another fling?
- Think you'll settle down?

Is he a good kisser, ma'am?

Thank you.

As a publicist,
I can't help feeling sorry for her.

She just spent three days
campaigning on behalf of landmine victims.

That's the message
she wanted beamed around the world.

Yet all anyone wants to talk about
is Dodi Fayed.

And I'm afraid it gets worse.

How can it possibly get any worse?

News is beginning to emerge that Mr. Fayed

is engaged to be married to someone else.

What?!

A Californian model
by the name of Kelly Fisher,

whose lawyer is now suing Mr. Fayed
for breach of contract,

so I think we can safely say

this isn't going to get quiet
anytime soon.

God.

But, in a strange way,

this does also present us
with an opportunity.

Coming here today,
I couldn't help being struck

by the two very different
cultures at play here.

St. Tropez.

Scotland.

Scandal.

Dignity.

Irresponsibility.

Duty.

Selfishness.

Principle. A tabloid princess
as opposed to a...

a broadsheet prince.

Now, how would you feel
about doing a counter photo?

You and the princes.

Hasn't everyone had enough of photographs?

Well, if anything,
this week's events have proved

just how powerful a photograph can be.

How can I justify that to the boys,
let alone to myself?

Besides, Diana and I are
getting on rather well at the moment.

I owe it to her to be onside.

I assume you haven't seen
today's Daily Mail.

Why?

There may be a truce
between you and the Princess of Wales,

but that didn't stop her
letting her favorite journalist know

that you spent last weekend
alone with Mrs. PB.

And didn't want to take the boys
when they came back from holiday.

She wouldn't do that.

One weekend.

One!

So I... I do think
we should respond in some way.

How am I gonna present
the idea of a photo shoot to the boys?

They hate doing that sort of thing,
and I don't blame them.

We tell them it's a deal.

That we've agreed to these photos

so that the media leave us alone
for the rest of the holiday.

The question is,

where to find a trustworthy photographer.

Does such a thing even exist anymore?

That's lovely, Mr. McGettigan.
One more like that, please.

Good. Good. And now perhaps
one with Mrs. McGettigan.

Oh, where do I stand?

- Oh, just on the left, please.
- Oh, left.

Can you swap me that light over there?

Good. A wee bit closer in.

Oh.

Oh, you're good.
Have you done this before?

Oh, excuse me just a moment.

Duncan Muir.

Yes, that's me.

Oh, hello, sir.

- Okay, is everything in?
- Yes, that's all I have.

- Is everything in? Are you sure?
- Yes.

Okay. And, Duncan...

Right.

Just calm down. You're making me nervous.

- Right. See you later.
- Good luck.

- Right.
- Good luck.

- Why do we have to do this?
- Because, Will...

- All our friends are going to tease us.
- Exactly.

I very much doubt it.

They will. Especially if you wear a kilt
and carry a shepherd's crook.

Like Little Bo Peep.

Little Pa Peep.

Little Pa Peep has lost his sheep
and can't tell where to find them.

It's a bad idea.

A baaad idea.

Baaad.

All right, you don't have to
wear a kilt if you don't want to.

Good.

Mr. Muir, hello.
Thank you so much for coming.

That's why there's no salmon.

Because it's so low.

Prince William,
can you come closer in, please?

Widgeon, come.

- Two minutes.
- It's embarrassing.

- Two minutes and it'll be over.
- All right.

Come on.

Lovely.

What's the dog's name?

Widgeon.

Ah, lovely name.

Perhaps you could throw some stones.

Yes, let's throw stones.

- Try skimming a couple.
- Widgeon, ready?

The dog's enjoying it.

I got two.

Two!

Lovely.

- One! That's even worse than me.
- Great.

- This'll be a better one.
- Three. We need three.

Prince Harry, can you stand there
next to your father, please?

- You come here.
- Oh...

- Thank you.
- You should chat to the photographer.

Smashing, thank you!

And if you could look to me, please.

That's the shot.

Well, that seems to have been
something of a triumph.

The boys hated doing it.

I'm sure.

But, as a contrast with Diana's antics,
it speaks volumes.

Hm.

Did you hear the latest?

No, what's that?

Apparently, yesterday she flew 160 miles

in the Harrods helicopter
to visit a psychic in Derbyshire...

terrorizing some tiny village
in the process.

Perhaps to help Mr. Fayed
decide where his priorities lie,

romantically,

given that he already has
an American fiancée, I understand.

Spare me.

Diana's behavior is becoming
more and more erratic.

More and more reckless.

More and more out of control.

Diana!

Instead of
learning from her mistakes,

I gather she's flown back
to the South of France again.

I imagine she'll settle eventually.

Let's hope.

All one wants is
for that girl to find peace.