Original subtitles

[birds chirp outside]

[dogs pant]

[man] Your Majesty.

[dogs whine]

[Adeane] Everyone at the Post Office is delighted with the new profile, ma'am,

which they feel to be an elegant reflection

of Her Majesty's transition from young woman to...

Old bat?

...mother of four and settled sovereign.

Hmm.

The Postmaster General himself commented that the two images,

the young and the slightly older Queen,

are almost identical.

[Elizabeth] Postmaster Bevins is very kind.

He's also a barefaced liar.

[Adeane] Just the tiniest changes, in the hair--

A great many changes.

But there we are.

Age is rarely kind to anyone.

Nothing one can do about it.

One just has to get on with it.

[man on TV] But, somehow, Harold Wilson had to inspire the electorate

to thrust a wedge into the Tories, to win the floating vote for Labour,

and stop the Liberals stealing too much of the cake.

Sir Alec's position could likewise be affected by the Liberals.

They've had quite a revival.

In the 1950 election, the Labour majority crumbled.

Some of its great figures were already ill.

The pressures of Korea and rearmament were growing.

-It's never easy to fight an election. -[clanking]

-Louder, please. -[man] Sir.

Your opponent's promises often seem so much more enticing.

[volume increases]

-...so many unknowns. -[loud rustling]

Even the weather can wash your hopes down the gutter.

At once Harold Wilson's life changed.

Oh, no!

What?

Winston's had another stroke.

-Oh, poor old thing. -I'll go and see him today.

[cheering on TV]

You do know, if that man wins today, he'll want us out.

-Who? -Wilson.

Half his cabinet would be made up of rabid anti-monarchists.

They'd want our heads on spikes.

Vive la révolution.

Except I doubt they speak French in...

[mimics French accent] ...Halifax or Huddersfield.

-[Wilson] The old order. -Or wherever he's from.

The old boys' network, the cozy...

I even heard a rumor that he's a KGB spy.

Mr. Wilson? That's ridiculous.

That his predecessor, Hugh Gaitskell, was poisoned by the Russians,

so that their man might take over.

-Who did you hear that from? -A friend of mine at the lunch club.

He had a whole theory

about Wilson being turned while on a trade mission to Russia.

Said he even had a KGB code name.

"Olding."

Well, if you know it, and your chum knows it,

obviously MI5 will know it,

and they must have come to the conclusion that Mr. Wilson was fine,

or they would have done something about it.

Unless they never expected him to get this far.

-...the ruthless application... -No one did.

...of scientific techniques in Soviet industry...

can see clearly that only the state should have this level of control.

[phone rings]

[groans]

[man] Good morning, Your Royal Highness.

[indistinct TV in the background]

[knocking at door]

[door opens]

[man clears throat] Sir, a reminder that lunch is at one at the Mirabelle.

Tell her I'm not coming.

[man on TV] A Labour prime minister...

-Go on. Off you trot. -Sir.

Good morning, Your Royal Highness.

Who are you?

I'm new.

I'm assuming "new" is not your name.

No.

-So, when I ask you-- -Violet, ma'am.

Where's the other one?

The... the fat one.

She left, ma'am.

Nervous exhaustion.

[phone rings]

Hmm.

Yes?

[man] Morning, ma'am. Lord Snowdon sends his apologies.

-What? -He's heading out to take photographs.

-What? -Of election day.

-No! -He will try and join you for coffee.

No!

["From a Jack to a King"]

♪ From loneliness to a wedding ring ♪

♪ I played an Ace and I won a Queen ♪

[Margaret] Tony.

♪ And walked away with your heart ♪

♪ From a Jack to a King ♪

Open the door.

♪ With no regrets I stacked the cards last night ♪

♪ And lady luck played her hand Just right ♪

♪ For just a little while ♪

♪ I thought that I might lose the game ♪

♪ Then just in time ♪

♪ I saw the twinkle in your eye ♪

Your Majesty, Your Royal Highness.

Sir Anthony, what's all this?

Preparations for the forthcoming exhibition

at the Guildhall Gallery, ma'am.

-Of our paintings? -Portraiture in early modern Europe.

I believe you kindly agreed to say a few words.

-Did I? -That was a mistake.

Probably.

-[clears throat] Who's that by? -Annibale Carracci.

Never heard of him.

This one?

-Artemisia Gentileschi. -No, never heard of him, either.

Her, sir.

I'm afraid we're not great connoisseurs of art in this family.

-No, we're country people, really. -[Elizabeth chuckles]

-Savages. -I wouldn't say that.

But I just did say that.

Are you disagreeing with me?

I've always said, both the Queen and Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother

have a very good eye.

-What? Between them? -[Elizabeth chuckles]

One each. [chuckles]

[Philip] Right, darling.

I'm off.

Eyes left.

Good luck with Winston.

If I am to say a few words,

I wonder if you might give me another of your wonderful tutorials.

With pleasure.

Your predecessor had very little patience with me,

whereas you've always been kind enough to make me feel, if not scholarly,

then not stupid, which I appreciate.

So, to that end, what would you say constitutes early modern?

The end of the Middle Ages

to the beginning of the Industrial Revolution.

Roughly late 15th century to late 18th century.

And what era are we in now, do you suppose?

The frighteningly modern?

I think that all depends on the result of the general election today.

Oh, yes. Have you voted? I know one shouldn't ask.

I have, ma'am.

-Conservative. -Really?

I always had you down as a man of the left.

Perhaps once. Not anymore.

-Who's this? -Rembrandt.

An Old Man in Military Costume.

Wonderfully enigmatic character.

Speaking of enigmas, what do we make of Mr. Wilson?

-One's heard the rumors, of course. -Rumors, ma'am?

Yes, whilst on a trade mission to Moscow, the KGB got to him.

Nonsense, I know.

I wouldn't dismiss them so quickly.

For a young socialist to visit Russia in those days,

with an impressionable mind.

It's not unthinkable he might have been turned to more... radical ideas.

But Mr. Wilson is an older man now,

and, I'm sure, a wiser one.

[man on TV] Harold Wilson's life changed dramatically.

From being a prominent opposition politician,

Harold Wilson became the opposition politician.

The potential prime minister and a servant of the Crown.

[man on TV] The Conservatives can afford to lose...

[butler] Sir, the Queen.

...a small but workable majority.

-Dear Winston. -Your Majesty.

Don't move.

-How are you? -[groans]

Gripped, ma'am.

It's a proper nail-biter.

...key battleground seats. The Midlands...

-You think Mr. Wilson has a chance? -I'm afraid I do.

I think we must face the cold wind of socialism

blowing through this land once more.

I probably shouldn't tell you this.

When I was Prime Minister...

a young Mr. Wilson came to me

asking my permission to go to Russia.

On behalf of...

the...

Board of Trade.

Yes. Board of Trade.

One of the first Western politicians to go behind the Iron Curtain.

I remember thinking then, "We'd better keep an eye on that one."

...see a clear picture emerging of who might be the likely winner.

[Elizabeth] I can't imagine what that would be like...

having a prime minister one didn't trust...

when one thinks what it was like with you...

I was a terrible bully.

[Elizabeth] You were my guardian angel.

The roof over my head.

The spine in my back.

The iron in my heart.

You were the compass that steered and directed me.

Not just me, all of us.

Where would Great Britain be without its...

greatest Briton?

God bless you, Winston.

[snores gently]

[man on radio] After the generation of Conservative rule,

in which we have seen recession, scandal, national divide...

-[brakes squeal] -[engine stops]

[distant laughter]

[man] Go on, Margot. Do us one more song.

[door opens]

[man] Yes, Margot. Your turn.

[piano music playing]

[Margaret] ♪ It was... ♪

♪ Just one of those things ♪

♪ Just one of those crazy flings ♪

♪ One of those bells ♪

♪ That now and then rings ♪

♪ Just one of those things ♪

♪ It was just one of those nights ♪

-♪ Just one of those... ♪ -Jesus Christ.

♪ ...fabulous flights ♪

♪ A trip to the moon ♪

♪ On gossamer wings ♪

♪ Just one of those things ♪

[man 1 on radio] Another gain for Labour there.

We've seen a 3.5% swing from the Conservatives so far tonight.

♪ When we started painting the town ♪

[man 2 on radio] The haves and have-nots

and the fact that neither party has been able to secure the confidence

of a large majority of voters

is symptomatic not only of fundamental dissatisfaction with government,

but of the failure of the entire political class.

♪ So goodbye, dear, and amen ♪

♪ Here's hoping we meet now and then ♪

♪ It was great fun ♪

♪ But it was just one of those things ♪

[applause]

[woman] Bravo!

[Margaret] Thank you.

[man on radio] ...arriving into us now.

Yes, it's a Labour gain.

The Labour Party will form the next government.

People will be waking up tomorrow in a new Britain,

a Britain whose destiny lies firmly in the hands of Mr. Wilson.

We now go over to Transport House,

where Labour staff and supporters are gathered to hear their celebration.

[crowd cheers]

[crowd] ♪ Then raise the scarlet standard high ♪

♪ Within its shade we'll live and die ♪

♪ Though cowards flinch and traitors sneer ♪

♪ We'll keep the red flag flying here ♪

[crowd cheers]

[man] Sir, the protocol is as follows.

When you're announced, bow from the neck.

First time you see the Queen, you say, "Your Majesty."

After that it's "ma'am." Rhymes with "ham."

Until you leave, then it's "Your Majesty" again.

Don't sit until Her Majesty does. Don't talk until she does.

Absolutely no physical contact, other than taking her hand,

if and only if she offers it.

No small talk unless she invites it.

At the end, she'll buzz, and I'll come and get you.

Bow from the neck and walk back towards me.

[bell rings]

The Leader of the Opposition, Your Majesty.

[Elizabeth] Mr. Wilson.

Thank you.

[door closes]

Your Majesty.

The country has spoken. Your party has won the election.

[Elizabeth[ The duty befalls me, as sovereign,

to ask you to form a government in my name.

Congratulations, Prime Minister.

Uh, well, I suppose I should kick things off with an apology.

-Whatever for? -Well, winning.

I'm aware of your affection for my predecessor

and doubtless you'd have preferred him to have continued in office.

It is my duty not to have preferences.

Well, we all do though, don't we? We can't help it. It's human nature.

And I can see the attraction of someone like Posh Alec.

Someone you can chat with about the racing,

someone well-bred, highborn, who knows how to hold his cutlery,

as opposed to a ruffian like me.

Hardly.

Still, the country said otherwise.

They'd had enough of the mess those Conservatives left us

and the havoc they wreaked.

Soaring land and house prices,

race riots, sex scandals,

large-scale unemployment, rejection from the EEC,

and an annual trade deficit of £800 million.

Yes, it's an unenviable legacy.

What will you do about the balance of payments? Will you devalue?

No, m-ma'am.

A Labour government devalued the pound once before, with little success,

and my party cannot risk being seen as the party of devaluation.

It is also a matter of national pride.

This is still a great country,

and the pound is a powerful symbol.

Can't have been an easy one to get used to.

What's that?

Well, you being part of that symbol.

Your face on every coin and banknote.

[Elizabeth] No.

I remember seeing my father's face on a shilling for the first time

and thinking how odd it looked.

At the same time realizing

I would probably, one day, have to look at my own face.

But one never knows what destiny has in store for one.

Did you ever imagine you'd be Prime Minister?

-Goodness, no. -How could you have done?

-Mr. Gaitskell was still such a young man. -He was.

No one could possibly have foreseen his death.

No.

-So sudden. -Yes.

And unexpected.

Yes.

Still, we make of our destiny what we can.

Indeed.

[Elizabeth] I'm not sure what I was expecting.

Each of his predecessors,

Churchill, Eden, Macmillan, even Alec,

each in their own way was formidable.

Statesmanlike.

But Wilson is neither old nor young,

tall nor short, loud nor quiet,

warm nor cold.

He seems to have come from nowhere and is entirely unremarkable.

[chuckles]

Best qualities in a spy.

What did you say?

Aren't those the best qualities in a spy?

Well, to be forgettable, unremarkable.

Not stand out in a crowd.

We used to say that about Henry, didn't we, dear?

What?

That you would have made the perfect spy,

because no one could remember having met you.

[guests laugh]

I-I-I'd say that was marginally better

than everyone having nightmares having met you!

[laughter]

[Duke of Kent] We do tease each other.

With Tony, one never knows quite who one's going to get

from one moment to the next.

He's changeable.

He goes from loving to hating. Mummy!

-You're not listening. -Hmm?

Of course I am, darling.

Tony doesn't hate you.

I think he may be starting to.

You must try not to let him consume you like this.

The two of you have your trip to America coming up.

Yes.

You'll be with each other round the clock, working together as a team.

Your father and I always found those trips very bonding.

Well, I hope you're right.

["Got Love If You Want It" playing]

[radio stops]

-Thank you. -Sir.

-From Margot. -Marvelous. Very good.

-How did you know? -Margot!

Seventeen minutes, door to door. I'm claiming that as a land-speed record.

Is there any food left, or have you eaten it all? Your Majesty.

-Your Majesty. A thousand apologies. -Hmm.

[chuckles]

-Happy birthday, Henry! -Tony, where were you?

[Queen Mother] Oh, look.

-[Tony] Hello. -[Queen Mother] Tony.

Tony, darling, come and sit next to your wife.

Why would I do that? I see her all the time.

Well, she was just saying she sees you none of the time.

Hmm, because he's always working, traveling, or waterskiing.

[gasps] It's my new passion, ma'am.

Your Majesty, there's a telephone call for you.

-[Queen Mother] Oh, it's lovely there. -[Tony] It's a ghastly little pond.

I think you'll find we own that pond.

I share a speedboat there with Simon Sainsbury.

You have to wind it up.

[man] Well, the general idea is to stay out.

[music box plays]

[Duke of Kent] That's really charming. Elizabeth, thank you so much.

Really, really charming.

[guests laugh]

[guests] ♪ Happy birthday to you ♪

♪ Happy birthday to you ♪

♪ Happy birthday, dear Henry ♪

♪ Happy birthday to you ♪

-[Margaret] Hurrah! -That's enough.

-Shh, shh, shh. -[clears throat]

Winston is dead.

Fire!

[cannon fires]

[buzzing]

[buzzes]

[typewriter clicks]

[man 1] Sir, the CIA'S Director of Counterintelligence on the phone.

-[man 2] I'll call him back. -[man 1] He called on Juliet, sir.

[man on TV] Heads of state from around the world are arriving, crowding into...

[man 2] Gentlemen.

...this great mother church of the Commonwealth.

[buzzes]

-Jim? -[man] Martin.

A man by the name of Michael Straight surrendered himself to us at the DOJ.

[Straight] I need to speak to a senior intelligence officer.

[Angleton] He claims to be a sleeper agent working for the Russians.

He says he has information that will uncover a senior KGB mole

at the top of the British establishment.

[indistinct chatter]

-Where is he now? -Washington.

We can have him flown in to you by tomorrow.

[Archbishop] We are assembled here as representing the people of this land

to join in prayer on the occasion of the burial of a great man,

who has rendered memorable service to his country

and to the cause of freedom.

We shall think of him with thanksgiving

that he was raised up in our days

of desperate need

to be a leader and inspirer of the nation,

for his dauntless resolution and untiring vigilance.

My name is Michael Straight.

[Archbishop] And since all men are subject to temptation and error,

we pray that we, together with him,

may be numbered among those whose sins are forgiven...

and have a place in the kingdom of heaven.

I attended Cambridge University,

and it was during this time that I was first approached

by members of the Communist Party.

[phone rings]

[Adeane] Right.

Right.

I'll confirm with Her Majesty and come back to you straight away.

[man] Director General of MI5, Mr. Furnival Jones, Your Majesty.

Your Majesty. Thank you for seeing me.

It gives me no pleasure to tell you

that we have been approached by a former Russian agent

who has identified a mole at the top of the British establishment.

So, it's true.

-Ma'am? -I'd heard the rumors.

Initially, I dismissed them,

but spending time with him personally, in close proximity,

one had become more and more suspicious.

Indeed.

And that he should have been able to carry on for so long, undetected,

is a subject of enormous embarrassment to all of us.

This obviously needs to be handled very delicately.

That's what I've come to talk to you about,

to see if we might find a way to contain it.

What? We can't do that.

Have a Russian spy in Downing Street?

Oh. Those rumors. You're talking about Harold Wilson.

-Yes. -I'm so sorry, ma'am.

Yes, it's widely accepted

that repeated attempts were made by the KGB

to recruit Wilson when he was younger, working on trade missions.

He traveled to Russia a great deal in those years,

but the evidence for the Russians having succeeded is so weak,

we discounted it some time ago.

And the poisoning of Gaitskell?

Gaitskell wasn't poisoned. He died of lupus.

The fact is, even if the Russians had poisoned Gaitskell,

the most likely beneficiary would have been George Brown, not Harold Wilson.

Wilson was not favorite to take over the leadership at the time.

We don't have a Russian spy in Downing Street?

No.

But it seems...

we do have one in Buckingham Palace.

[slide projector clicks]

[Blunt] We look at a painting and immediately want to know it.

Understand it.

But can anything ever be fully understood?

Take our bearded trickster here.

A Venetian cardsharp originally ascribed to Titian,

until new evidence came to light,

proving the painting is actually by Lorenzo Lotto.

As time passes, so we learn.

Truths are revealed.

In the late Renaissance,

painting after painting, masterpiece after masterpiece

seemed full of hidden intentions, multiple meanings.

Annibale Carracci's Allegory of Truth and Time,

painted in 1584 or 1585.

This winged figure here

rescues a young woman, his daughter,

from the darkness.

He is time.

She is truth.

And this figure below,

trampled by truth, is deceit.

Carracci's message is clear.

Be patient. The truth will out.

[Jones] I'm afraid I can now confirm that the Surveyor of the Queen's Pictures,

Sir Anthony Blunt, was the fourth man in the Cambridge spy ring.

[Blunt] The message encoded in the painting is repeated in reality.

As with the Lotto,

time passed, and the painting was restored

to reveal deceit is two-faced.

She has a second, monstrous visage.

[Jones] And that alongside conducting a distinguished career as an art historian

and member of the royal household,

he spent 15 years as an active KGB mole

and passed almost 2,000 documents of sensitive military secrets

to the Kremlin.

Truth may lie beneath the surface, buried, forgotten,

but time has a way of uncovering it.

One thinks of The Merchant of Venice.

"Truth will come to light.

Murder cannot be hid long.

A man's son may...

but at the length, truth will out."

[inhales] Thank you.

[applause]

We had initially hoped the information was false.

We get these sorts of claims all the time. But...

we subsequently detained and interviewed Blunt, and...

I'm sad to say he has confessed.

In full.

[Philip] What's the next step?

[Elizabeth] Well, as a traitor to his country,

he should, of course, stand trial, be put in prison,

and the key thrown away, quite frankly.

Unless it was felt that exposure of Blunt's treachery

could cause even more damage.

What, than keeping it silent?

How?

[Elizabeth] It could have a catastrophic effect

on the reputation of our intelligence services.

The fact that he had gone undetected for so long,

which could, in turn, seriously affect our relationship with the Americans.

We're on our last reserves of goodwill with them as it is.

One more operational failure,

and our credibility would be completely shot.

What are they suggesting?

That we turn a blind eye and allow a traitor,

an enemy of this country, to remain free, with his career and reputation intact,

just to spare MI5's blushes?

-The man should be shot. -[Elizabeth] I agree.

But instead, I have to get up and pay tribute to him at this exhibition.

How am I supposed to get through my speech?

I might choke on my words.

[Elizabeth] We stand here tonight,

surrounded by some of the Royal Collection's greatest treasures,

to admire the genius of Rubens, Titian, Rembrandt, and Holbein,

but that we are able to make sense of it all,

appreciate it, understand it...

speaks to the genius of another man,

whose exceptional scholarship and vision have brought us together today.

-Sir Anthony Blunt. -[applause]

[Blunt] Thank you.

It is he who has curated this exhibition,

and given meaning to mystery,

and revealed what really does lie beneath the surface.

I, for one, had never thought of art history in that way,

as the art of investigation,

solving riddles, finding clues,

unlocking secrets.

It's been quite an education.

I particularly enjoyed the portrait

which turned out to have another person lurking beneath the surface.

Have I described that correctly, Sir Anthony?

Or am I stumbling around in the dark, as usual?

[audience chuckles]

Not another person, ma'am. The same person.

It was not uncommon in the early modern period

for an artist to finish a portrait,

and the patron would take a look

and ask for a more flattering version of themselves.

And the artist would paint another version over it.

So, not two different people?

Two different versions of the same person.

Which might as well be two different people.

The idealized version of themselves they want to be seen,

and the less desirable person they really are, hidden away.

There's even a word for it: "palimpsest."

That generally applies to manuscripts, ma'am.

"Pentimento" for paintings.

Pentimento.

Well, I think I speak for everyone here

when I say none of us will be able to trust

or look at anything in the same way ever again.

[applause]

[cameras click]

Prime Minister.

Your Majesty.

I'm so glad you came.

It gives me the chance to apologize in person.

-What for? -There's no need to understand.

All you need to know is that I misjudged you terribly,

and I'd like to take this opportunity to say sorry.

Are you an art man?

-Art? -Yes, art. Paintings.

Well, actually, no. No. Uh...

I'm an economist, a statistician at heart.

I'm happiest with numbers.

You can trust numbers.

They're honest.

There's no mystery

or deception or allegory.

You know where you stand.

What you see is what you get.

And I prefer things that way.

I quite agree.

[cameras click]

His Royal Highness would like to see you, sir.

Excuse me a moment.

[exhales]

The very least you could do is quietly crawl away,

not force us to live with you under the same roof.

But doing the... the right thing,

the decent thing, the honorable thing...

you wouldn't have the faintest idea what that was.

Well, I am going to be watching you,

and one wrong step, you treacherous snake,

and I will expose you and have you thrown in jail.

I would think long and hard before I did that, sir.

You would do well to reflect on your own position.

What are you talking about?

You may remember, at the height of the Profumo sex scandal,

there was talk of a member of the royal family being involved.

No one knew who,

but it was rumored to be a senior member of the royal family.

Very senior.

When the osteopath at the center of the scandal, Stephen Ward,

took his own life...

there was speculation that a number of portraits

of that senior member of the royal family had been found in his apartment.

Naturally, a great many people were keen to get their hands on those portraits.

Mercifully, someone respected and well connected in the art world...

was able to make sure they didn't fall into the wrong hands.

I never saw Stephen Ward in any capacity other than as an osteopath.

If he made drawings of me, he would have done so from photographs.

We all tell ourselves all sorts of things

to make sense of the past.

So much so that our fabrications,

if we tell them to ourselves often enough,

become the truth.

In our minds and everyone else's.

And believe you me, I'm happy for your truth to be the truth.

It would be better for everyone.

Imagine how awful it would be, for example,

if those pictures saw the light of day now.

The storm it would create.

And for what?

It's the past.

-Would you excuse me? -Of course, Your Majesty.

["Just One of Those Things"]

♪ It was just one of those things ♪

♪ Just one of those crazy flings ♪

♪ One of those bells That now and then rings ♪

♪ Just one of those things ♪

♪ It was just one of those nights ♪

♪ Just one of those fabulous flights ♪

♪ A trip to the moon on gossamer wings ♪

♪ Just one of those things ♪

♪ If we'd thought of it About the end of it ♪

♪ When we started painting the town ♪

♪ We'd have been aware ♪

♪ That our love affair was too hot ♪

♪ Not to cool down ♪