All language subtitles for Mr. Jones (2019).eng

I do not wish
to comment on the work.

If it does not speak for
itself, it is a failure.

I wanted to tell a story that could
easily be understood by anyone.

A story so simple even
a child could understand it.

Truth was too strange
to tell any other way.

I was not born for
an age like this.

Were you?

The world is being
invaded by monsters,

but I suppose you don't
want to hear about that.

I could be writing
romantic novels,

novels people
actually want to read.

Maybe in a different
age, I would.

But if I tell the
story of the monsters

through the talking
farm animals,

maybe then you will listen.

Then you will understand.

The future is at stake, so please
read carefully between the lines.

Mr. Jones of the Manor Farm

had locked the hen
houses for the night.

Hitler and Goebbels
are both there.

Next thing you know,

we're strapped onto Hitler's
plane, the Richthofen,

fastest and most powerful
plane in all of Germany.

On the flight, Goebbels
is reading the papers

while Hitler,

Hitler studies a map of Europe.

And I couldn't help but think,

"If this plane should crash,

"the whole history of
Europe would be changed."

Well, thank you,
young man,

for that passionate
presentation.

But the Germans have their
own unrest to worry about.

The Reichstag fire
was not unrest.

It was a tactic.

The Nazis now have an excuse
to end all opposition.

But how can
you be so certain?

Goebbels told me.

War begins in the minds of men.

Goebbels believes
the Reich will be here

for a thousand years,

which means they
will most certainly

expand to the east into Poland.

The next Great War,
gentleman, has already begun.

Herr Hitler will soon learn

that there's a great
deal of difference

between holding a rally
and running a country.

I see Mr. Jones
has told you we're at war.

Sorry to interrupt.

There's a call from Moscow.

- Who is it?
- For Mr. Jones.

Excuse me a moment, gentleman.

Do you know who it was?

They were speaking Russian.

Is that right?

You must go home.

You have a home, don't you?

This is my home.

It's just, I never got to
make my main strategic point,

which is to resist Hitler,

we will need
an alliance with Stalin,

a man who performs miracles.

Ms. Stevenson, do you know
how much the ruble is worth?

Not very much.

Global economic collapse.

Meanwhile, the Soviets are
having a spending spree.

How?

What's the matter?

Why have you brought
me a cup of tea?

I was wrong.

About your position.

The cuts are deeper
than expected.

There's simply no money.

I'm so sorry.

He's waiting to see
you before you go.

My boy.

This Depression, the casualties,

it's like another Great War.

Goodbye, sir.

It was an honor to serve you.

I couldn't have asked

for a more brilliant
foreign adviser.

Sir, you are surrounded by men

with decades of experience,

but it is me you need, sir.

I'm the only one who
tells you the truth.

No one else seems to understand

the gravity of
the situation, sir.

I took the liberty
of writing you

a letter of recommendation.

Thank you, sir.

This is for you.

It's not finished yet.

It's my report on
the Soviet question.

And what's your answer?

I don't have one.

Stalin isn't returning my calls.

You could still
send me to Moscow,

ask him where the
money is coming from.

But what happens after your
conversation with Stalin?

I will go back to Wales,

teach in my father's
school in Barry,

get married, and settle down.

And then, one day, after
a long and comfortable life,

I will wake up screaming.

I've woken up
screaming in Barry myself.

Sir, I'm sure you've
woken up most people

with your screaming in Barry.

Nazi Party gets
four seats in Germany!

A visa takes time, Mr. Jones.

Why are you in such
a hurry to visit Moscow?

I hear Moscow is beautiful
this time of year.

Yes, March?

And you want a press visa?

What's this?

My articles.

We will need a letter
from your editor,

a three-page description

of what you will
write about Russia,

copies of all the articles
you have written,

and the address
of your publisher.

I don't have
an editor or a publisher.

I'm a stringer.

Freelance.

Who will be paying
for your trip?

Myself.

So you are not a journalist.

You want to be a journalist.

I have interviewed Hitler.

I plan to interview Stalin.

You're funny, Mr. Jones.

Right.

Gareth Jones.

That's the easy bit.

Moscow, 71795.

Moscow, 71795.

Mr. Kleb!

- Yeah?
- Telephone, please.

Okay, sorry.

Paul, this is
Gareth Jones, in London.

Listen, I'm on my way to Moscow.

Gareth, I've been
trying to reach you.

So you are coming here?

Paul, I need your help again,

this time arranging
an interview with Stalin.

Please tell me you know a way.

Go see Walter Duranty
at the New York Times.

He has influence.

I'm persona non grata
at the moment.

Listen, I really
need to talk to you.

I've found something big.

It can break the
story wide open.

It's worse than
we thought before.

Paul?

Paul?

Your visa application
has been approved

and we have made
arrangements for you

to be our guest
at the Metropol Hotel.

The Metropol?

I was going to find an old
hotel near the train station,

but this is much
more preferable.

You will register with
the British Embassy

when you arrive,
and then you register

with the Soviet Press Office.

Failure to register
forfeits your visa.

Is that understood, Mr. Jones?

I would love to see more
of your beautiful country

other than just Moscow.

Right after your
interview with Stalin.

Good luck, Mr. Jones.

Gareth.

It's a new building.

They gave us a lovely room here.

The Soviets have built
more in five years

than our government
can manage in 10.

You ought to visit
the factories.

British engineers here,
Metro Vickers.

- You should talk to them.
- I'll do that.

Where are
they hosting you? The Metropol?

- Yes.
- Hmm.

How are things in London?

Have Lloyd George and MacDonald

solved the economic crisis yet?

They have their best
minds on the case.

Ah, their best minds
got us into this mess.

What have you heard from
the Kremlin about Hitler?

Did Lloyd George tell
you to ask me that?

Hm?
Does Hitler make him nervous?

I'm afraid not.

Forgive me, we're putting
the paper to bed.

I read your article.

Do you think Hitler really
believes the things he says?

Lots of people say
that he's deranged.

Mm-hmm.

What is deranged in
a deranged world, hm?

There's talk in London
we're headed for war.

Britain cannot
afford another war.

Can the Soviets?

British engineers,
new factories,

how is Stalin paying for it all?

Money, I suppose.

Then he's not paying
for it in rubles.

You know how rich this
country is, how vast?

South, it's nothing
but wheat fields.

Grain is Stalin's gold.

That's a lot of grain.

The Five-Year Plan
has more than doubled

their annual output.

So why are you really here,
Mr. Jones?

I need your help arranging
an interview with Stalin.

Hmm.

What are you, 27, 28?

Does it matter?

Have you become so accustomed

to weekends in the country
with Lloyd George

that you think you can take tea
with just any head of state?

I have no expectations.

I just have questions.

The numbers just don't add up.

The Kremlin is broke,

so how are the Soviets
suddenly on a spending spree?

Who's providing the finance?

Forgive me.

The fact that I have more
questions than answers

always makes me nervous.

Mm-hmm.

Who got you
on the plane with Hitler?

I had help.

From a journalist.

Mm-hmm.

It was Paul Kleb who helped me
get on Hitler's plane.

He tipped me off where
he would be and when.

Actually, I have to go.

He's staying at the Metropol.

I'm hoping to catch
him this evening.

So this is good.

More of this.

She's my star.

I depend on her.

Paul Kleb is dead.

It was a robbery three days ago.

You didn't know?

No.

Hmm.

Did you know him well?

We met in Berlin.

He was a friend.

Where did it happen?

Outside the Metropol.

I'm having some people
over this evening,

journalists mostly.

Do you care to join?

Yes, yes, of course.

- Thank you.
- Mm-hmm.

Welcome.

Mr. Jones?

You are staying two nights.

No, I'm here for one week.

I was told two nights.

My visa is for one week.

It says so on the stamp.

We're full the remaining nights.

Metro Vickers
is holding a conference.

Do you know another
hotel nearby?

I'm afraid you're only
authorized to stay here,

only for two nights.

Right then, two nights.

Say, what's going on here?

All the hotel
is on high alert.

There was a robbery.

Cushny, don't be worried.

There's top security
around here.

Where are you from?

Wales.

You here for the Western Mail?

Stringer.

Eugene Lyons, United Press.

Yes, I know.

Gareth Jones.

I enjoyed your articles

on the construction of
the electrical grid.

Then you must know
Metro Vickers' finest.

- L.C. Thornton.
- It's a pleasure.

- John Cushny.
- How do you do?

Hello.

Is Metro Vickers
holding a conference

in the hotel this week?

No, who gave you that idea?

Come on, I look like
I could use a drink.

Why do you look so familiar?

Doesn't he look familiar, Lyons?

You're that Welsh chappie
that interviewed Hitler!

You're definitely
coming with us.

Oh, everybody
comes to Duranty's.

The best parties in Moscow.

Oh, hey, I see you guys
have got started without us.

The party's in full swing.

He told me that he
was persona non grata

with the regime...
Do you know why?

Did you know what
he was working on?

There's not much else
to do here, is there,

when you're not allowed
to leave Moscow.

And what kind of reporting
can you do, confined here?

Wait, journalists are
confined to Moscow?

For protection?

Yeah, that's right.

What, are they
paranoid about spies?

Have you ever read
Edgar Allen Poe's

"The Masque of the Red Death"?

"The Masque of the Red
Death", you read it?

No.

Get a copy before they ban it.

Come.

Do you know,

do you know where the
money is coming from?

Duranty said grain
is Stalin's gold.

Grain is Stalin's gold?

Duranty actually said that?

That's a hell of a line.

Ask him why he never
bothered to use it in print.

Muggeridge, Barnes,
come over here!

Lloyd George wants an interview.

Malcolm
Muggeridge, pleasure.

- Let's dance!
- Gareth Jones.

That's what I'm talking about!

Have you met Bonnie?

So you inject it yourself,
just like a nurse would?

You wanna try some?

What's it like?

It's like,

being in the arms of God.

"The light
whose name is Splendour."

What'd you say, honey?

Oh, it's,
it's an old Welsh poem,

"Battle of the Trees."

Yes!

It's like poetry.

Are you sure?

No, no, thank you.

Why don't you give it
to me, then?

- Oh, no.
- You won't hurt me.

You just have to be gentle.

Oh no, that's quite all right.

♪ Dee, dee, dee,
dee, dee, dee, dee ♪

♪ Dee, dee, dee,
dee, dee, dee, dee ♪

♪ La la, la la ♪

♪ La la, la la ♪

♪ Whoa ♪

♪ Whoa ♪

♪ She messed around
with a bloke named Smokey ♪

♪ She loved him
though he was cokey ♪

♪ He took her down
to Chinatown ♪

♪ And he showed her how
to kick the gong around ♪

♪ Hi dee, hi dee, hi dee ho ♪

♪ Hi dee, hi dee, hi dee ho ♪

♪ La, la, la, la,
la, la, la, la ♪

♪ La, la, la, la,
la, la, la, la ♪

♪ Dee, dee, dee, dee,
dee, dee, dee, dee ♪

♪ Dee, dee, dee, dee,
dee, dee, dee, dee ♪

♪ La la, la la ♪

♪ La la, la la ♪

Leaving so soon?

Mr. Duranty.

Mr. Jones.

Did you enjoy yourself?

I can honestly say
that I've never seen

anything quite like it.

Was Bonnie all right?

She's not quite
to your taste, is she?

Pardon me?

Mm, perhaps,

or perhaps you would prefer him.

Hmm?

I came for...
thank you.

I came here to work,
Mr. Duranty.

There's nothing
to be ashamed of.

Thank you.

You can do whatever
you'd like here.

It's a curious thing
that the Kremlin

confines journalists to Moscow.

- Mm-hmm.
- Thank you.

You don't drink.

You don't appreciate
the gorgeous girls at my party.

You are rather dull, Mr. Jones.

There are other things
in life, I suppose.

Such as?

Well, I'm standing opposite

a completely naked
Pulitzer Prize winner.

My life can can't be
that dull, can it?

Come here, let me show you.

My son.

Refuses to learn English.

Proud Russian.

All right.

Goodnight, Mr. Jones.

Get home safely.

Goodnight, Mr. Duranty.

Hey.

Were you at Duranty's?

Yes.

Do you mind running
these upstairs

and leaving them on his desk?

It's a bloody opium den
up there, isn't it?

Hey!

His office is third
door to the left.

I couldn't help myself.

I took a quick look
at your article.

Did you?

- But...
- Shh!

Who is that?

That's my big brother.

I thought
it was well written.

Thank you.

I'm interested in your reporting

on Stalin's new tanks
and plane factories.

It's for the Americans.

Duranty's trying
to lure them here.

So Duranty is
playing peacemaker?

The revolution won't succeed
without foreign investment.

The British government is here.

That's not enough.

Americans need to see
they can make money here.

Washington's boycott
will finally be over.

And the revolution will
be well on its way again.

What other choice do we have?

I just didn't think that
Duranty had an agenda,

or that he was advising the
President of the United States.

Did you know Paul Kleb?

Everyone knew Paul.

Do you happen to know
what he was working on?

Here's my door.

Goodnight.

Ada!

It's my first night.

Care to join me in
a bowl of borscht?

No.

Good luck in Moscow.

Good morning.

May I come in?

I'm on deadline.

What are
you working on?

I'm researching a story
on the agricultural output

of collectivization compared
to former agrarian systems.

That sounds fascinating.

What are your sources?

Look, I don't have much time,

so if there's something
I can help you with...

My sources tell me you're
foreign affairs adviser

to Lloyd George.

- Is that not the case anymore?
- I am.

You've been checking up on me.

Look, I need to get
back to my work.

That's the thing
about deadlines.

What do you want?

The story no one
is talking about.

I can see for myself.

The numbers, they don't add up.

There is a story here.

I think Paul was onto it.

Don't say anything, just listen.

Paul was working on a story
he was afraid to talk about.

I spoke to Paul
on the day he was murdered.

He sounded
like he needed to talk.

Do you have any idea why?

He was so stubborn.

Paul the Apostle.

Look, I saw him.

Four bullets in his back.

They said it was a robbery.

And you don't think
it was a robbery.

What was Paul working on?

Oh, come on, tell me!

What was Paul working on?

The Ukraine.

Stalin's gold.

And journalists aren't
allowed to Ukraine.

That's where he was headed
the day he was shot.

You're not Paul.

Go home, Gareth.

Can I use your typewriter?

Why?

I left mine at home.

You write poetry?

Do you always go where
you're not wanted?

Read me one of your poems.

My mother used to
read me poetry.

Welsh poems, mostly.

"I know the light whose
name is Splendour.

"And the number of
the ruling lights

"that scatter rays of
fire high above the deep."

It's "The Battle of the Trees."

You've got five minutes.

I only need one.

- Eat, eat!
- Thank you.

- Caviar?
- No, thank you.

- Wine?
- I don't drink.

Mmm.

Thank you for seeing me
on such short notice.

Nonsense. Lloyd George's foreign
adviser is in Moscow.

It is an honor to receive you.

But, it is very odd, if you
don't mind my saying so,

that you registered
a press visa,

not a diplomatic one.

Why would Lloyd
George's foreign adviser

come to Moscow as a journalist?

What's this?

A letter of introduction from
my employer, Lloyd George.

Relations between
our two countries

have finally normalized.

We have our best engineers here,

Metro Vickers, helping
you power your factories.

I hope I can speak
freely, friend to friend.

Sure.

It was Lloyd George who arranged
that interview with Hitler,

and it confirmed
our worst fears.

I came as a journalist

so as not to attract
attention from the Germans.

There is concern in London

that the Soviet Union
would not be able

to defend itself
should Hitler attack.

Attack?

You read the same papers we do.

You have your agents
in Germany, as do we.

They're all hearing the
same things, are they not?

If we are to contain Hitler,

we must open two fronts.

Can you hold the eastern front?

Mr. Jones, Metro
Vickers may be qualified

to build factories,
but they are nothing

compared to the engineers,
Soviet engineers,

we have building new planes
and tanks in Kharkov...

- In Ukraine?
- Stalino.

- What?
- In Ukraine?

Yes, yes, in Ukraine!

In fact, Mr. Jones, why
don't you see for yourself?

I would be happy to
arrange a trip for you

to see just how prepared we are

for an attack from the Germans.

Or the British.

Paul gave me this
before he left.

All the information is
there, where he was going.

He wanted me to have it in
case he never made it back.

Want some tea?

Look who has the agenda now.

I don't have an agenda.

Unless you call truth an agenda.

Yes, but whose truth?

The truth.

There is only one kind.

That's so naive.

Journalism is
the noblest profession.

You follow the facts,
wherever it leads.

You don't take sides.

My father is in the
Foreign Service.

I grew up mostly in Berlin.

There's no place like it.

The freedom, the art,
the music, the culture.

The Nazis are destroying
everything so quickly

and I am afraid for...

I'm afraid for my friends.

They're arresting everyone
in the Communist Party.

We have to succeed.
We don't have a choice.

You sound like you
work for Stalin.

Not for Stalin.
I believe in a movement

that is bigger than
any one person.

What if you're wrong?

That's just
another option, is it?

Look, there are
cycles of history

just like there are
cycles of nature.

There's been nothing but war
and depression and now is

the chance to rebuild,
to fight for the future,

and the future of the people,
the real people,

the workers, and that's
what the Soviets are doing.

Do you believe in a state
that would put four bullets

in your friend's back?

No, I believe
that this movement

is bigger than any of us.

Paul Kleb was a human sacrifice.

Do you hear yourself?

Tea?

I'll go make us some more tea.

Most magnificent musical
instrument ever invented.

It's so odd.

Oh, wait.

You've gotta do this.

That's it.

- And that's the whole song?
- That's not bad.

That's the song, yeah.
That's the only song I can play.

My mother didn't
bring much back,

but this is the
one thing she did.

And she taught
English in Ukraine?

Stalino?

It was Hughesovka back then.

In fact, Kleb's map takes me
to where she once lived.

My mother died when I was 11.

In her sleep.

I think she killed herself.

If you met my father,
you'd understand why.

Your father's still
stationed in Berlin?

That's home.

That's where I met Paul.

Come with me, Ada.

Come and see where
my mother lived.

Let's find the farmers
who knew her.

Ada.

No!

Hey.

Ada.

Hey.

- Don't go!
- Shh, shh.

Shh, shh.

No, just go.

Just go.

We're in Ukraine.

Oh, yeah.

How did you know that?

Oh, my mother spent
some time here.

Phew!

I'll just...

There, comrades, is
the answer to all our problems.

It is summed up
in a single word: man.

Man is the only
real enemy we have.

Remove man from the scene

and the root cause
of hunger and overwork

is abolished forever.

Mama!

Mama!

Somehow
it seemed as though

the farm had grown richer

without making the animals
themselves any richer.

Except, of course,
for the pigs and the dogs.

All animals are equal.

But some animals are
more equal than others.

They arrested six
engineers from Britain.

Six?

Are you worried that London
might see this as an act of war?

What
about Washington?

What?

No questions?

Mr. Cushny?

Mr. Jones.

I'm surprised Lloyd George

would risk his foreign adviser.

He didn't.

No?

Are you saying,
we should release you?

What about the engineers?

Should we release them, too?

This is what we'll do.

We will send you
back to Lloyd George,

but we will keep
the other spies.

And when Lloyd George's
foreign adviser

returns to England
and tells the truth

about what he saw,
your engineers will live.

Mr. Jones,

did you enjoy your trip
to the countryside?

Hmm?

Good.

You saw the happy
and proud farmers,

the remarkable efficiency
of our collective farms?

And any rumors of a famine
are just that, simply rumors.

What are they?

- Rumors.
- And?

There is no famine.

Repeat!

There is no famine.

Good.

As you know, there are those

who would like to see
our revolution fail,

but we won't let that
happen, will we, Mr. Jones?

No.

I've arranged your passage home.

We have your suitcase
here for you.

Mr. Jones.

I'll have you know
I convinced them to let you go.

You don't deserve to be
in a prison for your bravery.

You know, Mr. Duranty.

Knew what?

How much is Stalin paying you?

What's keeping you here,
lying for them?

You wouldn't know
the first thing

about how difficult it is
to report from Moscow today,

would you?

Of course not,
you're just a child.

But it is not
the job of a journalist

to say, "How dare you, sir."

You actually thought
you could interview Stalin

and make some kind of
difference, didn't you?

A souvenir from my trip.

Tree bark.

It's all the people
have left to eat.

All right.

You keep it next
to your Pulitzer!

My dear Mr. Jones,

there comes a time
in every man's life

when he must choose
a cause greater than himself,

than all his miserable little
ambitions put together.

Perhaps someday you will.

It's a shame.

You would have made
a fine journalist.

Well, I guess now the censors

are gonna be really busy.

Just wait a few days.

Ada?

Ah, there he is.

Jones!

- You look great.
- Good to see you.

I want you to meet my
newest published author.

What do I call you now?

- Eric Blair.
- Gareth Jones.

You won't find
Blair on the bookshelf.

Oh, thanks.

No, you have to look for Orwell.

George Orwell, after the river.

Thank you.

I think
Mr. Jones needs a drink.

But he doesn't drink.

You know, I think you're
my only client who doesn't.

Then you might actually
get some work done.

One of us must.

You run a charity, Leonard.

No, nonsense.

"Down and Out in Paris and
London" will be a sensation.

Leonard tells me you're
working on a book

about the Soviet Union.

Oh, I've been using that line
for some time, I'm afraid.

I do have a story,

but if I tell it,
six innocent men will die.

- What men?
- The British engineers.

Oh.

Ah.

But if I write the story,

millions of lives may be saved.

I think, speak the truth.

Regardless of the consequences,

it is your duty, and
it is our right to hear you.

That's just common
sense, isn't it?

The six British citizens
whom I believe are innocent

are being held as
bargaining chips by Moscow.

If we in the West fold
to this blackmail,

we are potentially allowing
unprecedented catastrophe.

The Soviet Union is not
the worker's paradise

that was promised.

It is not the great experiment

that you read
about in the press.

Stalin has no stunning
new achievements,

unless you consider killing

millions of innocent
people an achievement.

Make no mistake.

If we let him get away
with this man-made famine,

there will be others like him.

Thank you very much.

Thank you.

Quite a story.

Maybe the Soviets are
doing the best they can,

making the best
decisions they can,

given the circumstances.

What about their free schools?

The free hospitals?

Yes, but at what cost?

A more egalitarian
society does exist,

it's just not perfect.

We can't expect it to be.

Experiments take time, Jones.

An egalitarian society,

it's the same system of
exploitation that exists here,

only it's worse.

Unimaginably worse.

- I know what I saw.
- Of course you do.

Of course you do, but,

but one has to put it
in the proper context.

Listen to me.

Stalin is not the man
who you think he is.

Are you saying there's no hope?

Why didn't
the New York Times

break the famine story?

Consider the source.

Lloyd George's aide
comes out with this now,

in the middle of
all this business

with the British engineers.

What are you hearing?

It's all overblown.

It's hysteria.

What does London
want, another war?

You'll get to
the bottom of this?

- Of course.
- We need it tomorrow.

But just
at that moment,

as though at a signal,

all the sheep burst out
in tremendous bleating

of, "Four legs good,
two legs better."

It went on for five minutes
without stopping.

And by the time
the sheep had quieted down,

the chance to utter
any protest had passed,

for the pigs has marched
back into the farmhouse.

Mr. Duranty is waiting for me.

You know, if you
ever decide to leave,

they won't let you
take him with you.

They'll hold him
here, as ransom,

along with whatever else
the Kremlin has on you.

I thought you wanted a raise.

What will you do when
the others come forward?

There aren't going to be others.

You can't make an omelet
without breaking a few eggs.

What's being done here
will transform mankind.

So darling, bring that
chair right over here.

Come on.

Aren't you the
least bit concerned

what they'll do to
Mr. Jones, hmm?

If they start believing him?
Just that chair there.

Bring it right over here.

Put it right down here.

A bit closer.

In all my time in Moscow,

I have never heard a tale

as preposterous
as that of Mr. Jones.

Go on.

Type.

Certainly conditions
are not ideal

in the Soviet Union.

There are still great challenges

as Stalin continues his
march towards modernity.

March toward modernity.

You can protect him.

Right?

The exaggerations of
the now notorious Gareth Jones

do not portray
the real modern Russia,

where Stalin is
admired and loved.

Signed, Ada Brooks.

Here.

Your passage to the future.

It's an old friend in New York.

He's an editor.

The only monsters
they have are bankers.

Mm-hmm.

Do you have a choice, Ada?

Think of Paul.

I received an urgent
phone call this morning

from Mr. Litvinov,
Commissar for Foreign Affairs.

He told me some
disturbing things

about your unauthorized trip.

I assured Mr. Litvinov

that you will retract
your statements to the press

and clear up
this matter immediately.

Or they will shoot
our engineers?

That matter
does not concern you.

They are holding
them hostage, sir,

blackmailing us
from speaking out.

You broke serious laws
in a foreign country.

You wanted to know
the truth as much as I did.

You were released weeks
ago from my employ.

You no longer work for me
or His Majesty's government.

If you had any sense,
you would do as I ask!

Have you seen so many wars

that the murder of innocent
people means nothing to you?

How can I retract
the empty villages?

The orphaned children
plagued by hunger?

We can still do something, sir.

- We can still help.
- Mr. Jones.

We cannot let Stalin
get away with this!

What do you expect
me to do, exactly?

Break off all ties

when our economy is
already on its knees?

You betrayed my trust.

You betrayed your country.

You will retract your statements
publicly without delay.

You've gone too far.

I will not be silenced, sir.

They're saying you lied.

They're all saying you lied!

Diplomatic
crisis has erupted

between the East and the West.

- Did you?
- The latest accusation

comes from a young man
by the name of Gareth Jones.

It should be noted
that Mr. Jones

is a foreign adviser
to David Lloyd George.

The claim from
Lloyd George's secretary

is that a famine plagues
the Soviet Union.

I spoke to various
experts myself

and can confirm that
conditions remain difficult

- during the Five-Year Plan.
- My God.

But my readers
will be reassured

that the famine story
is entirely false.

The New York Times.

Duranty debunks
our dear Mr. Jones.

It's a shame he has to mention

he was Lloyd George's secretary.

Gareth.

You were cleverer
than all of us.

It's the last place
I thought you'd end up.

I thought you'd be
prime minister by now.

We've already had

one Welsh prime
minister this century.

Mustn't be greedy.

I am happy to have
you here, I am.

Look, I promised the publisher

to keep you away from
foreign affairs and politics,

but that does leave
things like culture.

Bryn, Gareth Jones,
you remember him?

- He's back. The legend returns.
- Hold on.

Culture?

Yes, anything to
help people forget

the terrible state we're in.
Morning.

Now I've got you in with
me, hope that's okay.

And we should be
as snug as toast.

Good morning,
good morning, good morning!

This
just in from Moscow.

The Soviet Union will
release the remaining...

They may
be able to return home

as early as next week.

Kremlin officials
in Washington today

have much to celebrate

after a series of negotiations
with the White House.

The United States has
officially recognized

the Soviet Union.

- Cheers!
- Cheers!

American business leaders

have long welcomed this move

as a way to expand trade.

But the man credited for
convincing President Roosevelt

is Walter Duranty,
better known to his readers

as Our Man in Moscow.

The creatures outside

look from pig to man,
and from man to pig,

and from pig to man again.

But already it was impossible
to say which was which.

That's Gareth Jones.

My mum said he's mad.

Run!

Gareth, you all right?

Those church ladies refusing
to talk to you, are they?

No rush.

You planning on submitting
your article soon?

He's here.

- Blimey.
- Who's here?

Hearst.

William Randolph Hearst?

He summers nearby
in Saint Donats.

The big man is here.

You've been
away a long time.

Of course.

Of course!

Hearst boards at Donat.

Where do you think you're going?

I've got
to talk to him.

Gareth, a word.

Gareth!

Gareth, wait.

Gareth!

Gareth, wait.

Every summer we try and get
an interview with Hearst

and every summer we're denied.

Not this summer.

I'm the assistant editor now.

I have to play my cards
carefully, you understand?

Fine.

I'll interview him.

Are you mad?

I can't have you
going to Saint Donats.

You've gambled with your career.

You're not gambling with mine.

Can I help you?

I work for the Western Mail.

Well, as you can see,
we're rather busy.

I've just returned from Moscow.

I have a story that will run

on the front of
Mr. Hearst's newspapers.

I suggest you talk
to his newspapers then.

Didn't you say you write
for the Western Mail?

Why would you give your
story to Mr. Hearst,

a competitor?

Mr. Hearst's papers
have more lawyers.

I'm afraid you're trespassing,

so I must ask you to leave.

If you'll just give
me one minute, I...

Thank you, thank you,
I have my bike.

I let myself in
through the kitchen.

- Eres!
- Mr. Hearst, believe me,

I have something
you want to hear.

Peter!

I have a story of Pulitzer
making a terrible mistake.

- Mr. Hearst...
- Let him be.

You have 30 seconds.

I just returned from Moscow.

I took a train south
and saw empty village

after empty village.

Ah, the famine stories.

I saw it with my own eyes,
Mr. Hearst.

The world has just lost
one of its best reporters,

a man who I know
you tried to hire.

I chased Kleb for years.

You think they killed him?

You thought so, too?

Why did they want Paul dead?

The same reason they're
discrediting me.

You're certain it was
the famine story got him killed?

A journalist who worked
with him confirmed it.

Well, if I commission
an article from you,

it will be your word
against Duranty's Pulitzer.

Hmm?

Yeah.

Yes.

Famine
in the Soviet Union!

Death in Ukraine,
read Gareth Jones!

FDR takes America
off the gold standard!

Death in Ukraine,
read Gareth Jones!

Dear Gareth,
I am home in Berlin.

How quickly things fall apart.

I'm writing for Berliner
Tageblatt again,

for the moment,
until they shut us down.

I read your article.
You were right.

There is only one truth.

Congratulations, Gareth.

Paul would be so proud.

Wherever you're off to next,

make sure to pack a good bag.

For days at a time,

the animals had nothing
to eat but chaff and mangles.

Starvation seemed
to stare them in the face.

It was vitally necessary

to conceal this fact
from the outside world.

Emboldened by
the collapse of the windmill,

the human beings were inventing

fresh lies about Animal Farm.