Original subtitles

Subtitles by explosiveskull www.OpenSubtitles.org

Well, go ahead and open it, Little Charlotte.

Mr. King, you shouldn't have.

Happy birthday, sweetheart.

It's the most beautiful ribbon

I've ever seen.

Oh, but it must have cost a fortune.

Oh no, no, no. They were a bargain, Little Charlotte.

I had them mass produced.

I'll cherish it always.

Here. Why don't I pin it right next to your heart.

Would you tell me about all the sweet, cheerful things

we could do together if I wasn't so wretched and sick?

Well, first, we'd stroke the pelicans

down at Pallister's Knob.

You'll stroke the men pelicans and I'll stroke...

- The lady pelicans. - That's right.

And then I'll take you to Mr. McConkey's for...

Maple walnut ice cream.

Exactly.

Mr. King,

when you become the prime minister,

will you make tuberculosis against

the law?

You know, I'll try my best, sweetheart.

But you're going to pull through, I just know you will.

Dr. Wakefield says I'm going to die in agony

and nobody will come to my funeral.

That's a bit extreme,

- don't you think? - Mr. King,

every night, I pray you're gonna win the competition.

Please, won't you win it?

Promise me you will.

Sure as a winter's day in springtime,

Little Charlotte, I'm going to win

that competition for you

and for all the defective Canadians everywhere.

I'm going to...

What is that strange noise, Little Charlotte?

Isn't it such a gladness? It's called music.

Ruby makes it on her machine.

See?

Oh, my heavens!

You found me.

Just when I'd given up all hope

of you ever finding me, there you are.

Mother, give me strength.

Make me equal to this moment.

Mr. King...

I can't breathe.

Good night, children.

Pardon me, Miss.

- Citizen. - I just wanted to express

to you how deeply moved I was by your skill on the trumpet.

It's a harp.

I beg your pardon?

The instrument, it's called a harp.

- I can't play the trumpet. - Oh!

I'm sorry, I've just never heard music before.

- Never once in your life? - No, no, but I've read

all about it in books about England.

But what about the birds? Have you no songbirds

- in this country? - No, our puffins are mute,

though the albatross is known to shriek in rutting season.

Have you been to the zoo to see our pelicans?

They warble sometimes. Might that count?

Your story makes me sad, citizen.

Good night then.

Uh, good night.

I have an ear for accents.

You must be English, right?

Are you following me?

Please allow me to just introduce myself.

My name is William Lyon Mackenzie King.

My friends like to call me Rex.

Happy to greet you, Mr. King. My name is Elliott,

- Ruby Elliott. - Ms. Elliott,

what would you say if I told you that by New Winter's Day,

I will be prime minister of Canada?

I should think it to be most arrogant.

Well, there can be no question of my victory.

My mother has been grooming me for leadership since birth.

Well, then I suppose I need not you wish any luck.

- Good night to you, Mr. King. - If I win the candidacy,

Ms. Elliott, would you attend my victory rally?

Oh, it's going to be the grandest affair.

You could stand next to me as I deliver my speech

to the nation. I'm sure my mother would allow it.

I'm afraid that's quite impossible.

We'll be serving maple walnut ice cream!

Double rations!

- Good night. - But, Ms. Elliott,

- you must be lost. - No.

- This is where I live. - But these are the gates

that lead to the governor general's house. There's

- no civilian access. - That's right.

Lord Muto is my father.

Your Excellency...

I am deeply ashamed to have spoken so freely.

Please allow me to express my most unquestioning inferiority.

We're all subjects of the same queen,

are we not, Mr. King?

Good night.

Good night.

Ms. Cramp, I believe I have politely requested

that you not leave insanitary articles

- in the hallway. - But, Mr. King,

- there's just been so much slush. - Thank you, Ms. Cramp.

Mr. King...

...you will put this in your room.

What is it, Doctor?

It is a warning.

I knew you would find me.

Why, those are perfectly charming.

I'll have them giftwrapped.

- Keeping busy, are we, Father? - Hmm... Willy!

I wasn't expecting you this early.

The competition is tomorrow night, Father.

What have you been doing in here?

Well, now I paid for the advert

in the Mail and Empire just as you instructed.

Full page in the morning edition.

And what about the maple walnut ice cream?

- 400 gallons. - Good!

I expect all Toronto will be here to cheer me on.

Would you hold this a moment? It's a gift for Mother.

Son, um, if...

you can afford to buy gifts for your mother,

perhaps you could also find a few dollars for me.

Oh? Last time you got lonely, Father,

I had to change the locks on Mother's door.

Cost me quite a hefty sum as I recall.

I told you that won't happen again. I have

a bird now.

Yes, and who paid for the bird?

I know and I'm grateful.

But those gilded banners you wanted cost a fortune,

and you wouldn't believe the price of puffin cream!

And then there's that woman up there.

You think it's easy to provide for her?

Father, as soon as my candidacy is confirmed,

you'll have your reward.

The Senate, the Supreme Court, president of the Dominion Bank?

Canadian ambassador in the Bahamas.

You know how I love sunbathing.

Yes, I'm aware of that. And I do believe I indicated

to banner was to read, "Congratulations, Mr. King."

- Yes, yes, I'll fix it. - And I dare say

this cartographic diagram with the Quebec City ice vortex

is most handsomely drafted.

Did Mother do that?

No. No, that was Nurse Lapointe.

- Nurse Lapointe? - She's quite committed.

She even taught Giggles how to say

congratulations in French. Isn't that

- right, sweetie? - Félicitations, Monsieur King.

Thank you, Giggles.

Can you see your reflection?

Non, Madame King.

Then keep scrubbing.

Mother darling, Willy's here.

Willy, ah! My prince!

Lock the door at once and come to me.

- Hello, Nurse Lapointe. - Bonjour, Monsieur King.

Mother, I've brought you some new underthings:

- Diefenbaker's French lace. - How delightful!

I can't wait

to model them for you.

Come. Give your mother a kiss.

Mother darling, your hands. You're chilled and nervous.

Nurse Lapointe, Mother needs her puffin cream.

Oh, I'm sorry, Monsieur King,

but your father said he needed it.

- I beg your pardon! - Your husband, Mme King.

- Willy, make her stop. - I'll fix it, Mother.

How dare she speak of that gormless worm

- in my presence! - Nurse Lapointe,

we put Mother's solitude above all other concerns.

There is a reason we must keep her door locked,

- you understand? - Oui, Monsieur King.

Fetch a fresh jug from the icebox and, Nurse Lapointe,

I should like to thank you, your cartographic skill

- is most astonishing. - Thank you, Monsieur King.

I grew up in Québec City.

I can show you the way. If I could help you train,

- it would be the joy of my life. - Appreciate your support,

Nurse Lapointe. Thank you. Thank you.

That idiot girl can't do anything right.

Mother, listen to me. I have wonderful news.

How happy can a mother be!

She's real.

She's here in Toronto.

The girl with the garland-wreath braids?

Oh, Mother, she's every bit as beautiful

as you imagined. She played the most glorious music

on her trumpet, just like

- in your dream. - Who is she?

From whose loins?

It's miraculous. Her father is Lord Muto,

the new governor general.

I think my bowels may explode.

You know how unaccustomed I am to happiness.

Shall I fetch you a horse tranquiliser?

Last night as I slept, for the first time

in 25 winters, I could feel the migraine

loosening its grip on me. Look!

My mother!

- It's uncanny. - Never has the dream

been more vivid.

I could see you both.

She held you tightly in her arms.

Just as I do when you feed

at my bosoms. And in that moment,

I knew that all the torments

and humiliations

would finally be vindicated.

My dear son, the angel

has descended.

You shall govern this dominion!

Look, spinster nurse,

this is the woman my son is going

to marry.

- Oh! - You clumsy little peasant!

Oh, Mother, please, it was an accident.

I'm so sorry, Mme King.

Clean it up this instant and then get out of my sight!

You're fired.

Please, distant star. Please, oh, please,

let dear Mr. King win the competition tomorrow.

He has such as big heart

and he deserves it more than the others.

Please, North star,

please let him win.

Well,

if it isn't Bonny Prince Rexy himself.

- You made the papers, Rex. - "All new members

"at tonight's victory rally will receive one serving

"of maple walnut ice cream

"courtesy of your future prime minister,

"William Lyon Mackenzie...

King."

Rex, how cute.

- Too bad no one will be there. - Stop by my victory rally, Rex.

I've got a member, serves you all the cream you can swallow.

You can stuff the field

with your band of scoundrels, Mr. Meighen,

but only the righteous shall prevail.

- Oooh... - Give up now, Grandma,

and I won't ruin you.

I'll let you become my minister of maple walnut affairs.

How about that?

Those who aspire to the dignity of public office

are expected to show upstanding Canadian manhood

of the very highest order, and I have yet to see any of that from you.

And what about your upstanding Canadian manhood?

May I see that?

Ever the consummate vulgarian.

May the best man win.

All rise.

The Right Honourable Mister Justice Richardson presiding.

33 years ago,

our most glittering sovereign,

her majesty the queen, christened this dominion

with a national sentiment.

"Canadians," did she proclaim,

"in happy days as in sad...

"Disappointed shall you be.

"Always and forever more.

"May the Disappointment keep us safe

from the foolish aspirations and unreasonable longing."

My dear young sirs,

today's examination shall establish

who among you is best equipped with those essential

talents, aptitudes and bodily functions to lead

our fledgling nationality into the 20th century.

In the name of the Sovereign,

do more than is your duty.

Expect less than is your right.

Wrong.

Wrong.

Wrong.

Wrong!

Very statesmanlike, Mr. King.

That was sublime,

Mr. Harper.

Utterly sublime.

One! Two!

Three!

Excuse me, I believe my wife and I were ahead of you.

No.

Spruce.

Birch.

Pine.

Cabbage.

Commence urination.

Stop!

Superb, Mr. Meighen.

Good God, man!

Ahem!

Very passive-aggressive, Mr. King.

Good job, Rex.

Ready, set,

churn!

Churn!

Faster.

Churn!

Bingo! Bingo!

Yes!

On New Winter's Eve, as the clock strikes midnight

upon the new century, today's candidates

shall face the final test.

By royal proclamation,

whosoever shall raise the banner of our national disappointment

above the Quebec City ice

shall ascend to the office

of dominion prime minister.

Sargent-at-Arms, have we a candidate?

Yes, Your Honour.

In second place,

I must announce we have a tie.

Exaequo for second best:

"Arthur Meighen and William Lyon

Mackenzie King."

Come on, Grandma.

In the event that the candidate cannot fulfill his mission,

one of these runners-up shall take his place.

And in the name of His Excellency,

the vicount of Muto, the viceregal candidate

for dominion prime minister:

"Henry Albert Harper."

Now hold on just a minute!

That isn't fair!

I beat him at baby seal clubbing

and you all saw me! He didn't win, I did!

Mr. King, control yourself.

And not only that, I scored much higher than Meighen

- here at ribbon cutting. - Well, I beat you

at leg wrestling, you little bitch princess. We're even.

- Oh, why, you... - Gentlemen, please.

There's no sense in bickering over trifles.

Let's consider

the greater good. Shall we?

Your Honour...

I would like to cede my candidacy to Mr. King.

He's right:

he clubbed more baby seals than I.

He's a better man for it.

Well, the record will show

my score was higher, so...

Mr. King,

the number of baby seals clubbed is quite beside the point.

Take one look at Bert Harper, what do you see?

All that could be

desired in charm, intellect

and masculine beauty.

In his hands, clubbing baby seals

isn't the vulgar blood sport of demented inbreds,

but the very noblest expression of Canadian manhood.

What, on the other hand,

can be said about you, Mr. King?

Squealing like a petulant titmouse.

Mr. King, you will do more than is your duty.

Expect less than is your right.

Congratulations, Mr. Harper.

may you bring pride to a disappointed race.

Oh, come on, Rex, don't be a sour puss.

Come! Get drunk with us!

I'll buy you a maple walnut schnapps, hmm?

Go ahead and waste yourselves. Not a single drop

of intoxicating liquor has ever passed my lips.

What about upstanding manhood,

has that ever passed through your lips?

Ugh!

- Monsieur King! - Oh, good evening,

- Nurse Lapointe. - I know I am not welcome

in your mother's house, but I made a cake.

To congratulate you.

Why don't you give it to Bert Harper, he's the one

- who should be celebrating. - You mean you didn't win?

Haven't you seen the evening edition?

Mackenzie King tied for second best with

- Arthur Meighen of all people. - Second best is still

very good, Monsieur King.

Why don't we eat the cake together.

I wish to be alone now, Nurse Lapointe. I'm sorry.

Dear Mr. King,

every night, I pray you're gonna win the competition.

You shall govern this dominion.

Promise me you will.

Félicitations, Monsieur King.

Hey, buddy!

Would you mind tossing up my shoe?

- What? - My shoe. My shoe.

That's my shoe!

It slipped clean out of my hand.

Stop, Mr. King.

Don't do it.

Run away.

Run away.

Just get it.

Toss it up.

Of course.

Come on, buddy!

I'm late for my shift at the mines.

Just a minute.

That asbestos won't

drill itself.

Hey, hey! Hey! That's my shoe!

Stop that!

You will now avert your glance

from His Excellency Lord Muto, governor general of Canada.

Canadians,

listen.

Canada. Canada.

A voice cries out to you.

- Canada. Canada. - Can't you hear?

From across the world,

a voice is calling your name.

Canada,

help me, please. Help me.

Help Mother England.

In the jungles

of darkest Africa, a vulgarian army

has dared to point its cannon at our imperial mother.

Boers,

the scum race

of the Transvaal,

half-man, half-elephant...

...commanded by a fanatical psychopath,

Field Marshall Cornelius Von Kruger.

Kruger, the drunk.

Kruger, the glutton.

Kruger waging a perverse crusade

- against the cause of good. - AAAAH!

I will not stop! The Queen of England will die!

Now I ask you,

Canadians,

will you let the atrocities continue?

No!

Will you allow the Boer filth

to contaminate the virgin snow?

No!

Must the Disappointment last forever?

- Never, Papa! - Not on my life,

Your Excellency!

We shall fight for all that is right,

and we will not stop until the world is perfect.

Sweetheart, I'm looking for Lady Ruby.

She was just here, Mr. King.

She came to say goodbye to us.

Do you know where she went, Little Charlotte?

She said she was leaving on a steamboat.

She's leaving Canada?

Whatever for? Did she say?

There's a mean man doing mean things far away.

She said she was going to stop him.

Oh, Mr. King,

will you take me on a steamboat

- one day? - Yes, yes, of course, but right now, Mr. King

- has to go. - Wait! You didn't tell me.

Did you win?

Of course I did, Little Charlotte.

Sure as a winter's day in springtime.

Even as we speak, an evil tumour

spreads in our midst.

In the mirrored ice of Quebec City,

a mutinous French Canadian has dared

to beat the drum of Krugerism:

the fanatical ornithologist

Jay Israel Tarte.

Blasphemy!

Treason!

Tarte must be stopped

lest this great dominion

- fall to the wrath of Kruger. - Lady Ruby!

- Lady Ruby! - This nation has let

a poisonous viper nurse at its very bosom.

- Lady Ruby! - Mr. King,

isn't it? what can I do for you?

I had no idea you were leaving Canada.

I shall return when the Boer is defeated.

Please! Don't go!

It is our duty to fight for what is right, Mr. King.

But I'm supposed to be the prime minister of this dominion.

You can serve your country in other ways. You could enlist.

I don't understand, Lady Ruby. Look.

Look! This hangs

above my bed.

I kiss it 100 times every night before I turn out my gas.

- Mr. King... - My mother painted it.

All my life she's told me that one day you would come

and fall in love with me and make me the ruler

- of Canada. - Mr. King, what is the meaning of this?

I know it sounds mad, I, myself, started to doubt,

but then there you were in the quarantine playing your trumpet

- exactly as my mother said. - It's a harp,

- Mr. King. - Girl with the garland-wreath braid,

holy vision of female divinity,

righteous hand to guide my sacred purpose

for the salvation of the 20th century,

redeem my mother's sacrifice

and restore the dignity to this nation.

I believe you know

- my fiancé, Mr. King. - Yeah.

What?!

Rex, jolly good of you to see us off.

I find a place for you in my government, Rex.

Come cheer me on in Québec City.

- Excuse me. Pardon me. - Canadians,

long have you smoldered

in disappointment.

The time has come

to unleash your fury

upon the Earth.

We pledge eternal hatred

of the Boerish race. By the points of our bayonets,

shall we slash our way to the despot's trembling throat.

And by the extermination of Johannesburg

shall Canada astonish the world.

What time are you leaving?

As soon as we load all this toxic waste.

Sick, sick stuff, Mr. Meighen.

Fine. I'll wait.

Maybe you shouldn't go to Winnipeg so much,

a good man like you.

That's none of your concern, garbage man O'Malley.

Psst!

Hey!

Hey, Mister! Welcome to Winnipeg.

You want some heroin? Bare-naked ladies?

- Reasonably priced furniture? - I want nothing from you.

- Well, fuck you then! - Yeah, fuck you.

- And your nice fucking shoes. - Fucking asshole!

Fuck you too!

Ah, Mr. Meighen.

- Just can't get enough, can you? - Let me in the heel.

I'm sorry. It happens, got it all booked up for the night.

But you're in luck, new shipments arrived.

Those are royal jelly.

You know she would have had this on her foot all the way

through the battle of Bloemfontein.

You're absolutely certain that it's Ruby's? I mean, you're 100% sure?

My man in Johannesburg snatched it right out of her tent.

- Still very ripe. - Please, I...

I'm sorry. $400, please.

What?!

Put it in a bag.

- Mr. King?! - Dr. Wakefield!

Why am I seeing you in this place?

- You'll explain yourself immediately. - It's not

what it appears, Dr. Wakefield.

- I'm on a charitable mission... - Lies! Mr. King...

- ...you intend to fornicate with this garment. - No, I don't.

- Look me in the eye. - Been a shortage of ladies' footwear at the Daughters

of the Empire Temperance League, and I was asked...

You're a disgusting backslider.

Mr. King, you will report to my sanitarium;

otherwise, I will have no choice

but to formally charge you with crimes

against national dignity.

And believe me, it would be my pleasure

to ruin you.

Do your worst.

WHAT

did you say?

I'm already ruined.

So trash me about all you like, everybody else does.

I'm warning you, Mr. King! I shall

expose you to Lord Muto himself.

I want him followed.

Yes, Doctor.

Who could that be?

Mr. Schultz!

I want my money,

Johnny Boy.

"Cher Monsieur King,

"if you think you could love me, meet me

"in Québec City beneath the Tarte Monument.

"I will wait for you there

"every day.

"Je t'aime.

Nurse Lapointe.

You are a disgusting backslider.

You have disgraced yourself

and your nation, Mr. King.

Shame on you.

- Nurse Lapointe! - Monsieur King!

You've come.

I brought you a fresh log from High Park.

Ah, thank you.

What is this place?

This is the holiest site in all of Québec.

The place where Monsieur Joseph-Israël Tarte was born.

If you listen closely into the shell,

you will hear a word of tenderness.

You see?

Nurse Lapointe, I'm...

I'm so sorry for the way I spoke to you before.

It was so nice of you to bake me that cake.

I've just been...

I've been ill.

I know. The disappointment can sometimes be

too great to bear.

Come with me, Monsieur King.

I wish to show you something.

The Disappointment.

I thought I should never see it from such close a vantage.

One day, la Tendresse will hang above this ice,

and Québec shall be free of the Disappointment forever.

Won't you and I be there together

on that wondrous day?

Nurse Lapointe, I feel as though

every minute of my life has been wasted.

Worse than wasted. Like everything I've ever believed

has been a monstrous lie.

Politics, Canada, everything.

La tendresse saved my life, Monsieur King. And it can save yours.

There's a sweet tubercular child that I visit

in the Defective Children quarantine.

- La petite Charlotte? - Yes!

We could adopt her as our own.

What are you saying?

I'm saying, Nurse Lapointe, that we could start a new life together.

We could conjugate French verbs together

and build a modest home together

and go on guided tours at the discount family rate.

I love guided tours.

- Oh, Nurse Lapointe! - Please call me Ernestine.

Ernestine...

...would you be my goodly wife?

Oui.

Oui, mon tendre amour.

William,

how thoughtful of you to visit.

Good God, Father, what happened?

Shh! You want that woman up there to hear you?

Mother's room is completely untouched;

- he only took my belongings. - Who took your belongings?

- Mr. Schultz. - Who the devil

- is Schultz? - A Winnipeg moneylender.

Oh, Father, how could you be so irresponsible?

Honestly! You laze about here like a gentleman of leisure,

and Mother is the one to suffer for it.

Plums need to be picked, Father, they just don't fall into your lap!

My dear young man...

...I bankrupted

this house

to fund your campaign,

and you promised me the most

dignified political favouritism

in all of Canada.

And what I am now?

Less than a pauper!

Yes, well, things have not gone according to plan.

But I will find a solution.

$400 by New Winter's Day

or he will be back for Mother.

What?

He already murdered Giggles!

Mother darling?

Willy?

Where have you been, son?

You know the migraine

tightens around me

whenever you're out of view.

I know, Mother.

I've brought you a bouquet of precious sticks

from the Cabbagetown Ravine.

Ah,

sticks brighten up a room,

but not as much as a dear

and loving son.

Mother darling, I have wonderful news.

Bert Harper has been killed?

- No, no. - I dreamt it.

Mother, it's much better than that.

How happy can a mother be?

I'm to be married.

But Lady Ruby is not yet returned from the war.

No. No, Mother, she hasn't.

It's Nurse Lapointe.

She's agreed to be my wife.

She is a sweet and kind

and gentle soul, Mother, just like you.

I know you've had

a displeasure with her as a nurse,

but I know you'll come to cherish her

- as a daughter-in-law. - I will do no such thing.

We're going to live in Quebec City, Mother.

Have you heard of J. Israël Tarte?

It's amusing, we used to collect copies

of his manifesto for the Rosedale book burnings,

but really, he's no terrorist at all.

Ever since the horrible night of your conception,

from the very instant that repulsive weakling downstairs

filled me with his semen,

I have been confined to this bed.

- I know, Mother. - 25 winters gripped

- by a never-ending migraine. - Yes, Mother.

And you suppose I've endured

all this agony for nothing?

I have built castles without number for you,

and now you would tear them all down

to build an outhouse?

- Mother, I've been so lonely. - Shut up!

You sound just like your father, is that you want to be? A fool

an idiot, a failure?

Without Lady Ruby, you'll be all that and 10 times worse!

Ruby doesn't love me, Mother. She never will.

Then you will be a man and improve yourself

until she does. Bert Harper has been killed.

I dreamed it.

I'm to plant the matrimonial sapling

on the winter's equinox at Berrington ice floe. We are betrothed!

- Betrothal is not marriage! - Mother!

Take that stupid girl out on the ice floe

- and leave her there. - Mother! Don't say that.

She will not destroy my son.

And you will not destroy our happiness.

You will do as I say.

Never!

Your dreams are all wrong.

I will love Nurse Lapointe until the day I die,

and you will live to see and to know that our love is real.

Mr. King.

Mr. Justice Richardson.

We've been looking for you.

Uh...

I take it you've read the evening edition?

Uh, no, I haven't.

Bert Harper is dead.

Dead?

Executed by the Boer. The Disappointment flies at high mast.

But from the depths of a nation's sorrow

comes an opportunity for our dear young Mackenzie King.

His Excellency requires a new candidate,

and so I must call upon you and Mr. Meighen

to break the tie. If you still

wish to be prime minister of Canada, I hasten to advise you

to prepare yourself. I presume you are still fit

for public office, Mr. King?

No shameful secrets?

Hmm?

Next stop, Vancouver.

You will stand up straighter.

You will remove your disguise.

Mr. King...

enter.

You will guess the age of this man.

80.

90?

He's in fact

only 14 years of age.

A compulsive onanist since he entered manhood.

It is a miracle of science that he's even alive.

This is what we refer to

as a class-9 defective:

incurable,

hopeless.

And do you know what you are, Mr. King?

A class 8.

Ah!

The vivifying froth of man, Mr. King,

must be controlled and contained.

With every nihilistic discharge, you release

more lonesomeness into this nation's psyche.

If not swiftly blighted,

this solitary fornication

shall bankrupt this spermatic economy...

...leaving rise

to a defective race...

...of giggling...

sniveling, hesitating

slump-shouldered, feeble-minded

weaklings!

Ah!

Release the valves.

Clench, Mr. King.

The puffin milk must be retained for the next 36 hours.

I have devised this apparatus

for unbridled onanists such as you.

Its electrical circuits

can detect even the slightest disturbance in your loins.

Look.

While asleep, the sirens will awake you

to prevent nocturnal pollutions.

While awake,

it will interrupt and extinguish any abnormal thoughts.

Do you understand, Mr. King?

Yes, Dr. Wakefield. Thank you.

Strap him in.

I promise, I will not let you down, Dr. Wakefield.

Remember, Mr. King,

one mistake, and you will destroy this nation.

Get out here, goddammit!

Alright, that's enough,

Mr. Meighen. Mr. King...

I underestimated you, Mr. King.

- Congratulations. - Well done, Rex. I think

- you'll make a fine candidate. - Thank you, Mr. Meighen.

I know we've had our differences in the past,

but I'd just like to say that it would be an honour to serve

- as your second in command. - I'm sure it would.

Your convoy is waiting, Mr. King.

The hour has grown late. His Excellency wishes

to see you at once.

Good luck, buddy.

You will stand in the centre, Mr. King.

Mr. Candidate King.

Your Excellency, the lambent glow

of your viceregal authority brings

- intense jubilation... - Mr. King, do you see that red button?

Oh! Yes.

Mr. King,

I want you to press that button.

Can you do that for me?

By all means, Your Excellency.

Uh, what... what does it do?

MR. KING, I AM COMMANDING YOU TO PRESS THAT BUTTON!

- YOU WILL PRESS IT IMMEDIATELY! - OK.

Mr. King,

you have just exterminated

all human life in the South African

Transvaal.

What?!

This was only a joke there.

I certainly got you, didn't I? I had you going

- for a second there. - Haha! Yes.

Yes, you did have me there for a second, Your Excellency.

But seriously, my State scientist

is in the process of building a machine

that will do exactly that.

A brilliant chap!

Goes by the name of Dr. Milton Wakefield.

I believe you know him. Don't you, Mr King?

Uh... I am familiar with his work, yes.

Hmm...

Dr. Wakefield's machine will

perfect human civilization.

One press of the button,

and the Boerish race will be wiped out of existence!

Seems a little extreme, don't you think?

I didn't push the button, King,

you did! And it's a very good thing too.

The prime minister of Canada must have the courage

to press a button when he is called to press it.

Bert Harper would have zealously pressed

that button. He wouldn't have hesitated.

And you seem to be fitting

very snuggly into his shoes.

Hmm-hmm... Mmmm...

Mmmm...

Is there a woman in your life, Mr. King?

- A woman? - Yes, a woman!

There's a lonesomeness about you that I find

- quite undignified. - Aaah!

Aaah... as you may have heard,

my eldest daughter is returning to Toronto.

I would like very much

if you and she would spend

some time together.

You would?

Yes, I would.

On the evening of the winter equinox, you shall be

my honoured guest at a viceregal ball.

A bit of pomp before we launch you off

onto your campaign.

Here is my plan:

I would have you offer yourself to my daughter

as a companion

and an escort.

Does that agree with you?

May the matrimonial sapling

guide you safely across the ice.

Tender nostrils,

guide me to my true love.

Forgive me.

True love,

I found you.

Monsieur King?

Monsieur King?

Right this way, Mr. Candidate.

His Excellency is waiting.

His Excellency's candidate for prime minister,

Mr. William Lyon Mackenzie King.

Ah, Mr. Candidate. Happy equinox.

And same to you, Your Honour.

Have you met my wife, the giantess of Strathcona?

- Ah. - Charmed, I'm sure.

- Ah, ah. - We're all very proud

of your accomplishment, Mr. King. I'm quite certain

you shall astonish us in the ice maze.

Thank you, Your Honour. I promise I won't let you down.

Hmm...

True love,

I have found you.

Monsieur King...

Take that stupid girl

out on the ice floe and leave her there.

Je t'aime.

Mackenzie King,

at last, you're guided by the hand of destiny.

Oh, Mother, give me strength.

Make me equal to this moment.

Reach out to Lady Ruby

and allow her to behold all of my worthiness.

Mr. King,

you're crying! Did someone insult you?

Oh, Your Excellency, no. I-I-I'm just so happy.

Lady Ruby plays the trumpet so marvellously.

The instrument is called a harp, King.

I did want to say that I will exceed

all expectations where Ruby is concerned.

You can count on my most earnest and everlasting devotion.

Well, you're a very loyal subject, Mr. King.

Now if you're ready, we'll go and meet Violet.

Uh, Violet?

Yes, Lady Violet,

my eldest daughter.

I'm confused, Your Excellency.

I do believe you accepted the invitation

to escort Lady Violet this evening,

or am I to believe that this is the sort of thing

- that you might forget? - Well, well, well.

Mr. "Meighen", isn't it?

No, darling,

this is Mackenzie King.

Viceregal candidate,

may I present my daughter, the Lady Violet,

baroness of Mississauga.

Charmed, Mr. King. Charmed.

Your Excellency.

Toronto's so stupid, Bill.

Look at all these normals.

I hate normals.

- It's why I live in Winnipeg. - You have a strange loyalty

for the daughter of our viceroy, Lady Violet.

Please, Bill, you sound like my sister.

I'm sure she would be quite astonished to learn the truth

- of your obscene vocation. - If you happened to know

that Ruby crossed the Battenhurt jungle

wearing only one boot,

she might also be astonished to find out why.

I am worth more than the sum of my mistakes.

Perhaps Muto should be the judge of that.

Please don't ruin this for me.

I've been preparing my entire life for this.

But it's all hogwash, Bill.

Canada is just one failed orgasm after another.

Look at all these normals, they're so clueless.

I happen to think it is sacred, Lady Violet,

- I was born to serve this nation. - I thought you were born

for boot sucking. Would you like to try on Ruby's underwear?

I could get that for you.

Please, Your Excellency, I'm begging you.

I like it when you beg.

You want my trap shut, don't you, Bill?

Well then, just do what I say.

After dinner, Muto will sing patriotic hymns

in the parlour, but you won't be there.

You'll sneak away to the viceregal bedroom,

and I'm going to do very,

very weird things to you in there.

You can call me Ruby if you like. Boy!

A few more

of those little mothers over here pronto.

Of course, Lady Violet.

I have French champagne and vodka martinis.

That will do just fine.

- There you go, Bill. - Oh, uh, I...

Down the hatch.

Good evening, Mr. King.

Ah... Your Excellency.

How are the children?

- I'm sorry? - In the quarantine,

- how is Little Charlotte? - Oh, oh, oh, fine,

she's fine, yes. Cured in fact.

Oh, that's wonderful news. Please say hello to her for me.

- Hmmm... - This one's mine, sis...

...so back off.

Please, please, please, please.

Have a seat, everyone.

Be seated, everyone. I said, "Be seated."

We are here today to introduce

a young man in whom I've taken a great deal

of interest.

A young man of State who by his own excellence

has risen to the rank of viceregal candidate

for dominion prime minister.

A leader of tomorrow

who will guide this country to

its rightful glory in the new century.

A young man

whom I would gladly welcome

into my family

as a son.

Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome...

...lieutenant Bert Harper!

Please, please, please, everyone.

Madame... Ha! Ha! Ha!

- Don't you dare. - Hello, Rex.

So you're not dead.

We have much to discuss, Rex.

As you can all see with your own eyes,

our national hero is alive and well.

Captured, taken prisoner

in the battle of Battenhurst,

our national hero withstood

unspeakable tortures

in a Boerish slave camp.

And there, he might have perished

were it not for the valiant exploits

of none other than

Lady Ruby Elliott. I'm delighted

to announce that once the Fury has been proclaimed,

these two ought to be conjoined in wedlock.

Practically barefoot, my beloved Ruby

crossed a savage jungle fighting Boer,

cactus and wildebeest

to save Bert Harper.

for the glory of the greatest race.

What the devil is that?

What the devil?

Mr. King, are you unwell?

Terminate that sound.

Mr. King, this is a State dinner!

- Do not vomit! - Easy, Rex.

Soldierly vice! An unmanly, yes, detestable dog!

Little Charlotte?

Did they move you?

Sorry, I haven't been to visit in so long. I've been ill.

Charlotte, please answer!

She's dead.

What?!

She died last night.

Mr. King,

His Excellency wishes to speak with you.

Immediately.

Can I have your jacket, Mister?

- King. - Excellency.

Your spectacle last night was most repulsive

Lady Violet finds you utterly disgusting.

Forgive me, Your Excellency. The memory of it

shall bring me everlasting shame.

As well it should.

But, believe it or not,

yours was by far the lesser outrage.

I'm sorry?

Bert Harper,

he has gone over to the other side.

And he has taken my beloved Ruby down with him.

Ladies and gentlemen...

...this man is a liar!

The Boer is not your enemy. The Boer yearns only to be free.

Free from this...

vile empire that would seek to enslave and destroy the world.

My dear young man, have you lost your mind?!

And I would sooner go to hell

than hang this sick banner above Québec City.

God! That inveterate scumbag

has brainwashed both of them.

They have sworn to carry Tarte's wretched banner

into the Quebec City ice.

And so, the Fury falls back

to you, Mr. Candidate King.

You want me to race against Ruby and Bert?

I've taken the liberty of choosing Mr. Meighen

as your second in command.

Meighen?!

Yeah. Who else, Mr. King?

I only ever meant to be moderate and inoffensive,

Your Excellency. I am not meant to carry a banner of war.

Perfectly why you are the perfect Trojan horse,

Mr. King.

Tarte has turned all of French Canada against us.

Who better to lead them into the Fury

than a spineless milksop? Hmm?

And what if Tarte is right?

Ha ha!

Please, Mr. King. Give the people hope,

and there will be endless disappointment,

but fill them with nightmares,

and they will follow you straight into hell.

I happen to believe that politics

is about building a better world.

"A better world"?

There is no better world, Mr. King.

Ah, you really don't get it, do you?

This Fury is your last chance.

You will not be given another one.

I will make sure that you rot

in Dr. Wakefield's sanitarium forever,

and your mother's pathetic little plans for you will be

CRUSHED like insects underfoot.

YOU'LL EITHER CARRY THE FURY OF THIS COUNTRY

OR YOU WILL BE CONSUMED

BY IT!

So you think I'm that weak?

You think I'm such a scurvy bat that I would

throw away all my principles for some loathsome place

in the sun?

Yes. Yes,

- I do. - Do you?

- Yes, I do. - You do?

- Yes, I do. - Do you really?

Yes!

Hmm.

Tonight,

we proclaim a new era

for the new century

between the green planet of hope

and the scarlet falcon of imperial fury.

Only one thing is certain:

the Disappointment, our dear old flag,

shall tonight be lowered forever.

Get out of my way, please.

Thank you.

His viceregal excellence Lord Muto

has magnanimously allowed a fair contest

between two extreme visions of the future.

A century of absolute war

versus absolute love.

The fate of our dominion

hangs in the balance.

Will the Zamboni please clear

the ice immediately.

Don't worry, old boy, we'll beat those traitors.

You're late.

I have to sharpen my skates.

Skating for the opposition banner

on behalf of J-Israël Tarte

and his tendresse nationale:

Bert Harper

and Ruby Elliott.

And representing the Fury,

His Excellency's viceregal candidate,

William Lyon Mackenzie King

and second in command Arthur Meighen.

Whosoever shall first raise his flag

above Disappointment Square shall be proclaimed

prime minister of Canada.

Candidates...

assume the position.

Ten,

nine,

eight, seven,

six,

five,

four,

three, two,

one.

Which way now, Champ?

It must be back this way.

I could have sworn it was a left to Stanfield Impass.

It's dead end after dead end.

It's nothing but dead end with you.

Not so easy to lead the way, is it, Rex?

Listen. When you wake up, you'll tell the world that

you simply couldn't go through with it, that you didn't have

the nerve, bowed down in favour of me.

Understand? This is how Muto wants it.

Monsieur King...

- Nurse Lapointe? - Follow me.

The Disappointment is being lowered.

For the first moment in our nation's history,

the status quo has at last

- been broken. - How the fuck you get across

Franklin's Pass?

We know a shortcut.

Who are you? What are you doing here?

I am an angel of Fury.

Hail, Muto.

Nurse Lapointe, you have to let me fail.

- M. King, there isn't time. - But I dishonoured you.

I sacrificed my most cherished beliefs, I don't deserve another chance. I should be punished!

Monsieur King, it isn't about you;

it's about humanity.

You don't realize it yet, but you are a puppet

in a terrible game to destroy the future.

I know there is goodness inside you,

so take all your goodness

by both hands and follow me.

Flags will hang by the fucking neck!

And so will you, fucking traitors!

Par ici.

God save mayhem!

Long live the Fury!

Help! Help!

- Rex? - Bert!

Rex!

- Nurse Lapointe. - What?

- She's still under. - Got it, Rex.

You fucking traitor!

Bert!

Comfort him, Ruby.

I'm going back to save the nurse.

I spotted her writhing in a forest

- of plankton - Bert, she's doomed.

What else can I do?

Please hold me.

Everything is gonna be already, Mr. King.

You've made a terrible mistake joining Muto,

but it's not too late.

There's still time.

Please, Nurse Lapointe.

Play, play a song for me on the harp.

I'm sorry for all I've done.

Don't leave me here.

Be quiet.

Willy darling...

...did you win, my son?

Yes, Mother.

Sure as a winter's day in springtime.

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