Marvelous.
That was quite something.
My mind felt as if I had been transported to an altogether different place.
Where?
An Italian forest.
But it was a hundred years ago.
It was incredible.
We are in sweaty agreement.
- I have women's things. - Toosh and touché, both.
I will come see you and Paul before I go.
- It is a mad plan. - You mean genius.
Possibly both, definitely one.
- I'll take it as a compliment. - Have fun running Russia.
Archie!
- I didn't see anything. - What are you doing here?
God abandoned me, I drank heavily.
Woke up here, air was thick with the scent of love.
Heard you cry something along the lines of "never stop fucking me,"
so did not wish to disturb, so just stayed lying on the ground.
- Polite of you. - Manners are everything.
You and Peter. The world is off its axis.
I think it's actually finally on.
- God abandoned you? - I probably deserved it.
You've always had such faith.
How will you lead your church if you don't believe in it?
It's a definite problem.
I'm going to meet the sultan and end the war.
Seems a big day.
You're a savvy player. I could do with it. Come with me.
I'm a savvy player when I work for God, as I serve something beyond myself.
Serve me then.
I'd like to, but I am unraveled in every way.
I just need to lie down, have a drink, read the Bible.
Whipping sometimes helps.
Hey, Catherine! Wow, big room.
Chunky furniture. I love how stolid you guys are.
Hugo.
Just checking in on how you're feeling about invading Sweden.
I'm ending a war, not starting another.
It's over, Hugo, but you are welcome to stay as long as you like.
Macaroon? They're for the troops.
Fantastic.
THE GREAT
WEDDING
- Hello, court. Say hello to Paul. - Hello, Paul.
- They're actually together. - It's a fucking horror.
- Fuck me. - What's wrong?
What the fuck happened? He's supposed to be dead. Couped.
Now they're together? It's a nightmare.
Here's the menu plan for the wedding. I trust you like it.
We can't just have ice cream, Maxim.
- Okay. - Leave it with me.
I don't think you should be judging other people's relationships.
Any luck?
She made me eat a macaroon that tasted like burnt dog.
- And said no? - Yeah.
- Hugo! - There he is!
- Why is he wearing his child? - Disgusting.
- You never touched our children. - Why would I?
- Paul is eating foie gras! - Amazing!
Some for you!
- Huzzah. More for you. - He's such a good dad.
Is he?
And when Paul says, "What was Grandma like," what's he say?
"She was a good fuck actually. Shame I killed her."
He's changed. Look at him.
Hungry little bear.
Where are you going?
- Nowhere. I'll see you later. - You're going to go tell her.
Tell my best friend her husband fucked her mother and then killed her?
- Why would I do that? - Yes, why?
Because you wouldn't be that dumb, because that would blow the world up.
And truth is, the world is pretty fucking nice right now
if we can all just let the past go.
Right.
And if you did, she would have to kill him and then I would have to kill you.
All in all, I think there would be a lot of killing.
But if you don't,
you have a nice wedding with a lot of ice cream
and we all just live happily ever after.
Sounds good.
Marial.
Okay. Okay. I love ice cream. Horrifically, I also love you, so...
And I you.
You're shining, my dear.
- I watched for a bit, and it... - You too?
I won't watch again, unless it's requested.
Macaroon?
Disgusting.
Tomato and sage. They're experimenting again.
And do you have a message for the troops?
I'm actually coming with you. The sultan has responded and will meet me.
I will end this thing.
- You are a wonder. - I am happy.
I have recalibrated my heart to its truth,
and now I will go recalibrate my reign to the same.
- You look stunning, as the cliché goes. - Thought you'd gone.
I leave in an hour. I had to see you.
You, a married woman.
- I promise I will be back in time. - Right.
I hope the war negotiations go well. You should get going.
I got lost in an Italian forest this morning
while Peter and I were fucking.
- A forest, you say? - It was astonishing.
And then when I came back and opened my eyes and saw him,
- I melted, Marial. - Great story.
I fucking love him.
I hope you and Maxim find similar happiness.
Without the fucking, as he is eight and that is wrong.
Well aware, thank you. You should go.
It is better than I imagined this would ever feel.
It's like my body can barely contain the feeling.
It's like I'm bursting all the time.
It's just different.
More complex in a way.
More fabulously complicated, as we both are that,
but we recognize it in each other and wrap our arms around our complexities.
- Let me just take a deep breath here. - Dress tight?
Something like that.
Do you really think he's changed?
People's nature is people's nature.
I'm a bit of a bitch, always will be.
He's a monster, always will be.
You need to be wary, all I'm saying.
I don't. I know him.
I have changed him, and Peter is my great love.
I guess that's why he fucked and killed your mother.
Liar.
I'm sorry.
Paul and I were just thinking.
Mummy, we want to come with you.
Because what is the most unbearable thing in the world to the three of us?
To be apart.
- I don't think... - Please, Mummy?
Can you...
Give him to me.
I think he's hungry.
I crushed up some apple and walnut into a paste.
Look, the sultan is a mad cunt who will not see reason
except when it is on the end of a knife shoved into his eyeball.
A figure of speech, of course. I would never do that.
But you can take one person with you. Choose me.
I will come and protect you.
No.
You just stay here with Paul.
You will miss us.
Yes.
Are you all right? You've been very quiet.
- I have something important to do. - Of course.
Go gentle with Velementov.
A man's ego is a tender thing, and you need him with you...
I do not need yet another schooling from you. It is tedious.
I'm just trying to help.
Are you actually still moving your mouth?
Catherine...
Go and hand out your macaroons.
Our troops are over here.
- We launch from... - Velementov.
What the f...
The sultan has agreed to meet in the borderlands.
What?
I have a genius plan that I will pitch to him.
I am on the cusp of complete victory.
My casualty lists tell me even if we win, we do not win.
We spoke their language, Velementov. They get that we can,
and you have done a great job at proving how bloody and pointless that is.
Now I come in, end it, and we go do what I was born to do.
God forbid that we are anything but your puppets.
We meet him tomorrow.
I'm going to get a drink.
10:00 in the morning.
Great.
Very great.
- You couldn't look at me, it seemed. - What?
No, sometimes a woman has to concentrate to get to the place.
Right.
And probably the wedding dress made it weird.
It's kind of like I'm cheating on Maxim. And I mean obviously I'm not. I just...
Hot in this dress. Fuck. Do you want water? I need water.
I probably should go.
It's your apartment.
Yes.
I'll go.
Fuck.
Do you want to go in?
Fuck.
- Look at that face. - Go away.
I did. Now I'm back.
Grigor, what's wrong?
- I... - Realized how dull it is fucking Marial?
Funny.
Just tell me. You always feel better. We're still husband and wife.
- Leave me alone. - I love you too much for that.
- Grigor, let us hunt. - Grigor has a secret.
- A secret, Grigor? - What the fuck, George?
Was the fact that you had a secret a secret?
We're not really back in sync, are we?
I love it. Grigor can keep nothing from me.
- Can we just drop it? - Where's the fun in that?
Peter, get him like you used to. He would tell you anything.
It's nothing.
Tell me or I will wrap your own neck in your underpant
as I did when you were nine and you were in a coma for three days.
Are you fucking crying?
- What the fuck is it? - Grigor?
Fuck it. Let the world end.
She knows about her mother.
What about her mother?
Okay. Okay.
Okay. I have blood rushing in my head. Can anyone else hear it?
- Fuck. - Fuck indeed.
- How? - Marial.
She doesn't know I know, so we have some advantage.
No, I have a world in fucking ashes, Grigor.
- That is what I have. - What do we do?
Well, first we kill Marial. That seems a given.
What did he do to Mum?
We're not having strudel for a wedding cake, Maxim.
Raspberry cake in the shape of a dog?
No.
- Peter, don't touch her! - What the fuck?
You told her.
- Shit. How? - I saw it on your face.
I wasn't even looking at you.
Fine. Fucking kill me. I don't care. She needed to know.
Was she all right?
What? No, she wasn't all right. You fucked and killed her mother.
That's my boy.
I didn't kill her.
Oh, shit, are you crying? Why is everybody crying?
Yes, I'm crying.
I have crushed my wife's heart like a mouse in a beaver's throat.
I've stripped her of breath, of hope.
Fuck. She must be shattered.
- Maybe you have changed. - Jesus, Marial, I told you he had.
And I told you the consequences. Everyone fucking dies now.
Everyone could've been happy and now you've fucked everything up!
You know why? Because you can't be an optimist.
You can't just fucking believe love is real.
Okay, you are very close to yelling at me right now.
- Because you fucked everything up! - I didn't fuck it up! He did!
Fuck!
Congratulations on the wedding, by the way.
You two have been married a long time.
You know about what it takes to have a long, successful marriage.
Forgiveness is a big part of it, right?
- Do you think she can forgive me? - For what?
Catherine knows I fucked and very accidentally killed her mother.
Kids, go in the other room.
Well, we haven't quite been in this position, exactly.
- You fucked her mother? - Fuck off, you eavesdropping Swede.
He's back!
Tell me you fucked her in the face. Of course you did. Why did I even ask?
Amazing. Crowns off, as they say.
We really owe you an apology. We thought you'd become such a pussy.
I fucked her mother. That's not good.
- I hate myself for it. - What are we going to do?
I think a furious, heartfelt denial is the way to go.
She will send people to Germany to check
and then it's clear Joanna never returned.
Fuck. I mean, good.
Let's find all the holes in each plan and fill them.
Got it. I convince Marial to retract, then we dig Joanna up and...
Terrible so far, but I'm a listening-type person now, so keep going.
And we crash a carriage deep in the forest,
put her body in the carriage, pretend she crashed and was not found.
That's actually good.
How do you explain her decomposed body?
We set wolves on the body, tear it apart.
- Is this who helped you run your empire? - Agnes, play nice.
Marial told her and she came to see me afterwards.
She didn't kill me then.
So maybe she didn't love her mum as much as we thought,
or maybe our love is so all-powerful, which it is for me.
She was in shock, which is why she did not act immediately.
She will gather herself while away and come back and kill you.
We all know it.
It's simple. You have to kill her first.
I feel like champagne. Anyone else?
- Hi. - What are you doing?
I was hungry.
- You know how I get. - You do get hungry.
Exactly.
- I just ate something I shouldn't have. - Some things are off-limits.
Well, you get hungry too, just for different things.
Russia, art, education.
You can't just eat everything. There'll be nothing left of us.
You know you won't be able to kill me. You never can.
I have to though.
- That won't do it. - It will if you decide it will.
You taste like whale.
Everything's salty.
Why is everything salty?
Fucker.
Yes?
Mother-fucker.
Guilty as charged.
It's bad. Really bad.
Archie says the quality of mercy is not strained, however.
Archie fucks himself with a turnip.
Right.
I'm going to kill you so, so slowly,
very painfully,
and I'm going to say a lot of French words in a perfect accent
as I peel your skin from your body and rub your flesh in rosemary salt.
I can't stop loving you when you talk. It rushes me.
You did stop loving me
to fuck my mother.
Seven bad minutes.
But don't all marriages have challenges?
It's not love, what you did.
No. It's cowardice.
I never knew the difference between cowardice and courage until you.
- Are you trying to flatter me? - Don't kill me.
You were this close to having it all.
I don't think you'll respect me if I don't kill you.
- You won't love me if I don't kill you. - Can I beg to differ?
No.
- I don't want to kill you. - You already did.
- It's my turn. - I'm sure there's a way.
I love that you think that.
In case you can't see, I am in the middle of fucking this soldier
while he is being slightly asphyxiated by a macaroon.
In other words, I am busy.
Unless you came to explain yourself.
I know what Peter did.
And I know you knew and helped him.
- I need you to take a message home. - Do you want to finish?
Sweet, but no. I'm done.
God himself sent it to us on a cloud.
- Hello. - Orlo, it's the empress.
- Velementov, it's time. - In some ways I wish I was there.
Just to see his face when he hears the plan.
He will be waiting for me. Will you come?
Do you know how you become the sultan?
All the sons of the harem grow up together,
knowing they must kill all the others or be killed.
There were only 16 of them.
- If he looks at your ears... - Yeah, change strategy.
- He's about to cut them off. - I'm asking you to come with me.
Fine. I will go alone.
I await news of your death with something approaching relief.
- That was rough. - Have to, to get through to her.
- She can't go if no one goes with her. - Catherine.
I left my purse in my tent if you wish to steal it.
I'm sorry, but this is crazy.
I'm not mad at you for stealing some money.
I don't care about the money. It was what it meant.
It meant you did not believe we would change things.
For it said, "I, Orlo," who cut his hand in a sacred oath with me.
"was lying, for I actually believe in the old ways.
"Corruption, largess, old men in dark rooms deciding who gets what and how."
- You still can't go to the sultan. - Why not?
- Because it's not going to work. - How do you know, Orlo?
That is what I mean.
Uncap your imagination, your courage, for fuck's sake.
Catherine, it's dangerous.
I am a person who has come into this world to do dangerous things, Orlo.
- There is another way. - And you can all think I am mad.
I think your fear is mad.
Your idea you can knock down the house and rebuild a new one
without breaking anything is mad.
Your aim is right, but your strategy is wrong.
I need people who believe and carry me when I need it,
not drag at my fucking heels when I'm trying to run.
- You! What's your name? - Alex.
Let's go.
- Sultan. - No wonder Peter is cunt-struck.
- I gather that's a compliment. - It is.
You may sit.
I heard a story about you.
You actually had to kill your own brothers to become sultan.
I have a lot of sisters. Some of them I would have liked to have killed.
But in metaphor only.
What you had to do, that is terrible.
It is so sad to me.
I imagine you have been to very dark places.
It's funny you mention it,
'cause this morning I was crying about my brother Nephiz.
We used to go swimming every day and laugh and talk about everything,
and he was so adorable, and he told the funniest stories of anyone.
And then his face when I...
I mean, fuck.
Give me a second.
- Anyway. - You miss him.
Yes.
It is what it is, as they say. A necessary evil.
Why was it necessary?
You couldn't have worked it out differently?
- The way of things. - It does not have to be.
It relates to our political situation as well.
Maybe the only thing you should take from the story
is that I am your opponent, and I will not stop until I get what I want.
No.
What I take from this story
is that the idea we have to destroy each other to gain
is dumb and destructive.
Did you just call me dumb?
I merely asked a question.
How shall we rule?
I have a lot of ideas of how the world should be.
Too many, I suspect.
And you rule by accepting how it is. Too much, I suspect.
Can we sit and solve this conundrum together
and be the two who made something new?
If I can keep looking into your eyes, we can.
- You may. - Look.
I have drawn up the new border of our countries for us to end this war.
And this is all I will agree to.
See, this is very old-fashioned.
Drawing lines on a map.
Killing a lot of people. I push back. Kill more people.
We draw another line on the map. We will share the region.
Create an experimental zone for a range of progressive ideas and industries
and be a beacon of peaceful revolution across Europe.
You talk a lot, don't you?
I love it.
Alex!
I will use a different knife for your ears.
It's curved. Easier to slice straight through.
They'll be on a single chain as they deserve.
Elizabeth.
Are you all right?
He looked at my ears.
We probably should go.
- Thank you. - Of course.
- Ladies, I am in a period of reflection... - Archie.
Be ready to throw the church's weight behind Peter.
She is done. He's taking it back.
But I still have the scent of their sex in my nostrils.
It was actually rather giddying.
This is happening, Archie. Be on the right side.
My theory is that she's a witch.
Before she came, everyone was fucking happy.
Are you staring at my breasts?
I really am.
All we wish for is everything to go back as it was.
We were happier then.
Whatever you want, Archie, you can have.
You just come out for him.
- It's fucking mad. Fucking brave. - Reckless. Because what happens now?
Unknown and unintended consequences. What I said.
She cut the head off the snake. They'll be fighting amongst themselves.
We'll slice through them in no time.
He wore a chain of human ears.
I must help those people under that yoke.
I want to push them all the way back to Istanbul.
Are you with me? I'll ask this only once.
Huzzah.
I need to have a voice, Catherine,
and in some ways your courage shames me,
but I have to feel like I can refashion our country for good.
It's why I wanted to coup and kill Peter.
Orlo, leave her be.
She's just killed a man.
Maybe quietly revisit the shame you felt at not being there.
Stay out of it, Elizabeth. You are in her ear and that is part of the problem.
Kept Peter alive as well.
I just need a moment.
We should move you to the carriage, get you home.
No, no, no. I don't want to move. I can't move.
Because when I get back, I have to do something.
I don't want to kill him. I love him.
- Love who? - My dear.
I really feel like I'm missing something.
Jesus, I do have a blurry memory of them holding hands actually.
Peter is so deeply in my heart...
and I know killing him will do nothing to dislodge it.
But it must be done.
Love?
He's a fucking animal who ruined his people,
who we threw our lives on the line to overthrow.
You can't love him.
And now he fucked and killed my mother, so that's bad.
Oh, Jesus.
That is bad.
I might sit too.
I have to kill him.
I am totally with you on that, always was. I'll get the carriages.
I should've been by your side with the sultan.
Let me be there now?
What rhymes with hippopotamus?
In what context are you possibly using that?
Well, our love is like a hippopotamus.
Okay, I've got it.
"Roses are red, violets are blue.
I fucked and killed your mother, but I didn't mean to."
Keep going.
Fuck.
- What? - Hello. Interesting news.
Apparently, the empress herself killed the sultan.
Unhinged with rage, I believe.
What?
- We will coup her. - No.
I can't kill her. I love her.
Sometimes a relationship has run its course and we need to recognize that.
When they want to kill you, that's a red flag.
- No. We run. - What? Where?
France, perhaps? Spain is warm and has a lot of anchovies.
Butter. Bread.
Paul smiled. He likes Spain.
And the princess who gave you that hand job is there.
It'll be great. Our kids will love it too.
- We're all going? - Of course.
Loves him, loves him, loves him.
Stop saying it, Orlo. It's grating my nerves.
Fucking reeling.
If he doesn't know, then we just go in and kill him.
- It's easy. - It's not easy for her.
She loves him. Fuck me.
I will punch you very hard in your stupid fucking face.
I'd say both calm down, but I'd love to see that.
I am fond of him, but the truth is he's Peter the Great's son.
- He's by nature ever dangerous. - It's unfinished business.
She can't reign properly with him alive.
- What are you doing? - Get in, Grigor.
Haven't had a chance to pack, but I will meet you there.
- He ran? Fucking hell. - Unbelievable.
Shall we search under the couches for his cock?
Funny.
We have to win her now.
Idea. Should I get a horse, ride to him, shoot him in the head for her?
- Like a gift? Thoughts? - I kind of like it.
But she loves him, so, you know,
we might be in a "kill the messenger/assassin" situation.
Interesting.
You will thrive without her.
There will be things to do.
I don't know what they are, but of course we will thrive.
Because I am a great dad and you do not need a mother.
- They can in fact be tricky. - Or you could find him another.
- Paul might even be happier. - I suppose anything is possible.
What is this strange ache that keeps penetrating my heart?
- I thought you'd gone. - Let's run.
- Where? - Somewhere.
Seems well-thought-out.
I can't abandon her. And I fucking know you can't abandon him.
I have.
Look.
- Fuck. - Fuck.
Well, hope returns.
You're much more attractive when you're optimistic.
Noted.
I can't take Paul from her.
Take him upstairs. He needs some milk.
Are we going?
No, I can't leave Paul.
Fuck her.
Fuck her. Why can't she just love me for who I fucking am?
Because she doesn't and she never will.
Fuck!
So, what now?
I don't know, but the options are getting deliciously limited.
Hey, compadre. You all right?
Not really.
I got us some hazelnut mousse.
That's so strange. Just what I feel like.
I get you. I'm the only one.
You know why?
- We're kings. - Exactly.
Look, I love Catherine.
She is sweet and honestly, if things went well,
I could see a foursome with a lot of fruit play in our future.
Me too. How blissful would that be?
That dream's over, as is Peter the Great's line.
There is Paul.
My line is assured, no matter what happens to me. Thank God.
Au contraire, puppy dog.
She has the same ideas as me
and will drive Russia into a ditch as I drove Sweden,
and Paul will be a laughable footnote,
an object of derision who sells blow jobs and old furniture
at a roadside stall outside Moscow.
- Fuck. - He is Peter the Great's line.
You want to explain to Paul what happened?
He's not going to sell fucking furniture.
Look, we've always struggled to be the men our fathers wanted.
I gave that up. I'm my own man.
I used to say that too,
with the same slight squeaky quality you just had.
We've lost our kingdoms
and now you're going to be killed by your wife,
and mine's trying to get me to move to Germany
and open a fish-canning business. What the fuck happened?
We should get so drunk our organs fail. That would be the manly thing to do.
I saw Father's ghost recently.
He said he never knew if I'd pick up the power of the line
that runs in my blood.
Well, fuck.
My old man just comes back, laughs in my face,
coughs up some blood spray, weeps a bit, then goes.
Yours still loves you.
- I guess so. - We face oblivion.
Or, other idea, just now dawning on me.
You take back your country, we raise an army,
take back Sweden, restore our fathers' lines
and write our names into the history books
as the men who saved the aristocracy in Europe.
Fuck, that sounded good.
- What do I do about the fact I love her? - Kill her quickly. Kindest to you both.
- I was trying to change. - Me too.
But it doesn't work.
Agnes has a sister. Amazing woman. Sucks cock like she's playing the oboe.
- It was an accident. - That he fucked her or murdered her?
- Well, kind of both. - And you lied to me.
- Covered it up. - Why hurt you when we love you?
Fucking Byzantine words.
I should kill you.
We kept it from you to protect you from who your mother was.
It was an act of love, not an act of betrayal.
Catherine, you're delusional about people, about the world.
That is your great gift.
But it's a curse as well.
He loves you. You have changed him.
- He killed my mother! - No, he didn't.
Overconfidence in window ledges killed your mother.
Jesus. That is your argument?
He begrudgingly fucked her
after she hounded him into it as she tried to usurp your power,
and he was at a low ebb and disconsolate at ever changing enough for you.
It doesn't matter why he did it.
- Or how. - Of course it does.
That is where the human being lives.
In the how and why...
not the should.
If you cannot metabolize your pure ideas of love and philosophy
with blood and sinew and fucked-up humans who do their best and fail,
but try to love and serve you...
Everything in me wants to fucking kill him.
Not everything.
Or you wouldn't have to hit yourself in the face.
I know you love both of us,
but you need to choose one of us.
I already did.
Today.
Stop!
Just laying some party favors out.
Smirnov.
Us.
Vinodel. Undetermined.
Yes.
Archie.
I was wandering, hoping God would come and tell me what to do.
It's a bad time to lose God... Peter and you about to go to war.
- He knows I know. - Of course.
- Did God have any advice? - No. He won't show.
And then I thought, "Who am I without him to lean on?"
And then of all fucking days, I have to decide who to back, you or him.
- It's very intense. - You think he'll kill me?
He does love me.
I know it.
I don't know...
anything really.
But you need to be ready.
I don't think I know how to live without him.
That's how I feel about God.
I suppose we have to just take the next step.
I am behind you,
because you believe in something.
Tell them I'll be at the wedding.
I'll see him there.
Good luck,
to both of us.
All right, let's go.
This is ours.
You ready?
No one does anything until I make a move.
And then?
And then.
To the happy couple.
Blessings, blessings, blessings.
- Huzzah! - Huzzah!
You brought Paul?
She won't kill me as long as I'm holding Paul.
- That's the plan? - One of them.
I think you should take the children out.
I was thinking the same. The groom has to stay, I suppose.
- Children. - A speech for my lovely wife.
My parents fought all the time, so we shouldn't do that.
And once she hit him in the eye with a pigeon he just shot,
and the beak got stuck in his eye
and he had to wear a patch and she was very cross...
- Wrap it up, Maxim. - Of course, my dear.
I look forward to a long life with my wife and I hope you eat lots of cake.
It's raspberry and chocolate.
If I may, I would like to wish the couple well.
And maybe add a few words on marriage.
I understood little about marriage until I met my wife.
Now I know it to be a lot like the roller coaster she herself built.
Ups and downs, exhilaration,
a slightly terrifying sense that all will go awry,
and everyone will die.
But in the end, you stay on the rails,
kept there by gravity and the force of your love.
Huzzah.
My advice to you is to expect the unexpected.
Marriage is both a joy
and a place where you will be dealt unbearable griefs.
If love is strong enough, all griefs are bearable.
Not all.
There are limits.
All right.
- I did fuck your mother. - He what?
She caught me at a low moment
and aggressively poured filthy words and hot promises at my eyes and cock
like hot tea on a sugar cake, which, you know, dissolves it.
And I fought it and said things like, "No,"
and, "Your own daughter? Really?"
and, "I absolutely will not fuck you against that birch tree in the moonlight
"despite knowing you are wet from a yard away."
Not a strong argument so far.
In a way you are also asking a lot of a man to be in love,
give unrequited tongue lashings to the object of that affection,
be disdained, given not a scintilla of reciprocation,
and yet I still,
despite my previous appetite,
including having fucked every woman in this room,
excluding Elizabeth, although we did other stuff...
- Marial? - An orgy. I mean, who counts that?
I have had no one.
Bar two maids.
And your mother.
A brilliant laying out of points in your defense.
You had, I believe, five points? I also have five points.
It feels we are really talking. I am all ears.
Not a day to mention ears.
But my five points, in no particular order.
You fucked my mother.
We can go with her in an instant.
Catherine...
I'm honestly just...
just so fucking sorry.
It turns out the worst thing in life...
is to come up against your own limitations and...
stumble, and then in the fall, you...
crush the one person you wished to be your best for.
I have carried a romantic idea of people all my life.
Perhaps too romantic.
That has changed quite a bit recently.
I saw a great love as a kind of perfect love.
Maybe it's not.
Maybe a great love, like a great country or a great leader even,
is a flawed one.
Maybe what makes it great is its embrace of our failings,
our scars,
our fucked-up-edness.
As long as we are questing always for better...
knowing that we will bring ourselves down as often as we set ourselves free,
maybe a great marriage is simply the ability to hold all that
in one tender, yearning heart.
Now let's have cake and music.
I believe a first dance is traditional. Push the table back and we shall dance.
- I'd like to put Paul to bed. - Of course.
- See you in your apartments. - Right.
Huzzah.
I'd really like to go to bed.
- I ate too much cake. Must go throw up. - Of course.
Love conquers all.
- This is Russia. - Funny.
- Drink? - Love one.
Good night, Paul.
We're gonna be all right.
Guards, arrest them.
What the fuck?
- You. You... - You love it.
Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.
- Get off me! - No.
- Apparently it's not you, Georgina. - What the fuck are you doing?
Grigor.
Marial.
- Get up. - What the fuck is going on?
Leave her alone! Get your hands off her.
Not me!
- Catherine! - That's everyone.
Get off me! Catherine!
It's never dull here.
Huzzah.
Pugachev.
Fucking hurts. Fuck.