All language subtitles for the.great.s01e06.web.h264-trump

It's still there.

Mocking me.

Reminding me of my... my ineptness.

I mean, the truth is...

what do I know of running a country?

I'm dissembled, and shook.

Perhaps I am merely a disappointed girl
with a big mouth

full of pithy phrases
that inspire others to action,

but cannot give me the same.

Honestly...

I just wish to lie in a field with Leo,

stare at the sun, and laugh.

Is that so bad?

You're a very rude bear.

- Where are we going?
- Just wait until you see this.

Hopefully it is still there.

Oh, look.

Look.

It's a bird.

I could watch it for hours.

Why would you want to do that?

Well, I'm changed, Grigor.

Something happened to me
when I was dying.

Although I still can't believe someone
tried to kill me. Who would do that?

It's unfathomable.
Indeed.

Someone deranged. But...

regardless, I lay in that bed
and I knew the me that was dying

was not the me I wished to be.

How fucking strange is that? Huh.

- Sir!
- Who are they?

My new food taster, Lizaveta,
and that's Tartar Nick.

Fucking killer. He has a collection of
human windpipes from people he's killed.

He puts holes in them
and plays them as flutes.

Some natty tunes, actually.
Right.

- The berries are poisonous, sir.
- Hmm.

Well, taste them to be sure.

I think they are, Emperor.
It is well‐known that‐‐

Nick. Your job?
Kill anyone who wants to kill me.

Her job? Food taster. Hmm?

It's food. Taste.

But I already know that they are pois‐‐

Hmmph. Everything is brighter, Grigor.
Everything.

Let us go back.
I wish to speak to the court.

Morning, everyone.

Gather the whole court.
I have something to say.

Jesus.

Really?

Fucking hell.

Good God.

He killed everyone who had anything
to do with the borscht.

The farmer who grew the beets,
the guy who delivered them,

the cook who cooked them,
the servant who served them,

and the guards he walked past
with the soup.

I can't believe
he killed his chef, Louis.

He loves Louis.

Whoa.

Jesus.

My God.

Is everything okay?
Does he suspect you?

No. He just wanted to show me a bird.

A bird?
Yep.

Okay. That seems like everyone.

Uh, obviously last weekend
was terrifying for everyone.

But I survived.

Huzzah!

Huzzah.

But clearly, someone didn't want me to,

and was unhappy with me,
and that saddens me.

I want to be the most loved ruler
in all of Russian history.

I am happy to hear
anyone's problems with me.

Step forward now. Anyone.

I'm open to being better, so...

Oh, don't worry about the bodies.

With these killings, it's over.

In the end, I suspect a disgruntled serf,
or chef.

I had criticized Louis' clafoutis
rather savagely, and rightfully.

Caramelized fruit is not burned fruit.

However, today is a new day.

I saw a bird that was...

Grigor.

Amazing bird.

So it is a new day. I am a new man.

Refreshed. Revitalized. Huzzah!

Huzzah!

I have created a cake in my honor.

A new day cake, of honey and fresh figs.

- Huzzah!
- Huzzah!

Have a fine day.

Where the fuck is Lizaveta?

Those bodies. Chilling.
I thought it oddly restrained.

But if we are to go forward,
we need men who will fight.

I mean, look what he just did.
That is not us.

Agreed. You know,
maybe we need to reset.

Just rethink. Regroup.

Velementov, he's gone back to the front,

but I think I should go find him
and speak to him.

I have a hunch he can be won.

I shall go to the front.

You?
Slightly terrifying proposition,

but we must be brave,
as you've often said.

I'm very full of words.
That is for certain.

Yes.

Look at this.

It is Dom Perignon,
invented recently in France.

They say it is God's nectar,
made by monks.

A champagne like no other.

Whoo!

It is fun already!

I don't want to drink.

But you must. We must leave behind
what we just saw.

It is vital.

What if I had become Empress?

If he had died.
What do you think would have happened?

To us?
To Russia.

You think I would be good?

I think you would be exceptional,
as you are.

I turned out not exceptional.
Not who I wish to be.

We are always not quite as good
as we wish. As capable, as bright.

Is the human way
to fall short of ourselves. Mm.

For our thoughts can be untouched
by a hard reality,

whereas our bodies and souls
must bump against the world,

and the world will even up the equation
over who we are.

You may, unfortunately, be right.

Where are we?

In my apartments.

Who with?

Each other.

What...

is this?

Ooh.

Zing. Amazing.
Hmm.

Fizzes in the nose.

In this world,

in these walls, we are happy.

We have everything.

That is all we can do at present.

We can do it well.

Fuck me.

A moment.

- You are mad at me.
- I woke up angry,

with the smell of shit in my nostrils.

It is just a day, as usual.

I, too, woke up
feeling ill at ease with‐‐.

Oh, your cowardice, your inaction,

your inability to see‐‐
I can find my own words, Marial.

And I am your servant.

It is my job to furnish you
with whatever you require.

Tea, baths...

Words, courage, I cannot do.

But perhaps some caviar,
with your bubbly libation,

before you ride Romeo's cock
for the rest of the afternoon.

I'm sorry.

I handled the whole thing with
the dexterity of a doughy two‐year‐old.

I am more limited than I thought.

You want to give up. I can see it.

I think a moment's repose would be good.

To rethink, and reset, and...

I mean, I have sent Orlo
to see Velementov.

So clearly, I'm...

still determined.

Oh. Daughter!

Dear little fellow.

For the journey.

You're late.
Hello.

Fucking dead, aren't you?

- Sit.
- Little tyke.

Fuck you.

Never liked him.

Thanks, by the way.

Did it yourself?

Of course. Family.

I would not let a stranger do it.

Well, you gave him
a couple of extra years.

I would have done it
when we did his mother.

You do love children.

It is true. I do.

It's a shame yours died.
What was he called again?

How do you feel?

I feel great.

A bit weird, being in here.

Had some unsettling dreams
about God and a raven.

Then I dreamed Mother
was biting chunks out of me.

Oh, she only did it the once,
and it was a small piece.

Do not over‐dramatize it, darling.

The idea you might die was terrifying.

You would miss me?

Of course.

And the ramifications.

Poor Catherine looked completely at sea.

Well, she is just a woman.
Weak of mind, and firm of breast.

Do not judge her harshly.
People saw her fragility.

For a moment,
I thought we might have to kill her,

and that I would have to do it,
and I am too busy for that.

Hmm.

I have become interested in fertility.

You do love to fuck.
It runs in the blood.

And fuck you should, my dear.
Your wife.

We need an heir. Preferably male.

I'm trying.

Putting your cock in Madam Dymov
does not get Catherine pregnant.

Although, how fabulous if it did.

By doing it to someone,
you could get someone else pregnant,

or fellate one man
and have another feel it.

Oh, how marvelous.

Hmm. I digress.

Dymov makes me happy.

And having nearly died,
happiness is everything.

It is a profound thought
I have taken from the experience.

Don't. Don't.

You will ruin us.

I said... don't.

I never believed your mother.

And we shall prove her wrong.

I am something other than what I was.

You were the cat's nightclothes,
and always have been.

Go seed your wife.

Get us an heir.

I will.

I will be the most loved leader
Russia has ever known.

That is my prophecy,
and always has been, darling.

Hmm. Mm.

Mm.

I sometimes wake in the night,

and feel like the birds on my wallpaper

have flown to different spots on the wall.

A few more glasses of this
delightful stuff and perhaps they will.

Leo, fuck off for a while.

Empress, let us fuck.

Indeed.

I will see him out.

Sorry.

It is what it is.

We just...

It has never happened since I arrived.

I guess that‐‐ We forgot.

Fuck.

I cannot have his child.

Lemon tops.

Put this inside you.
It acts as a wall,

and the acid kills his juice.

Thank you.

I am your servant.

Waiting!

It's just so strange.

Even now. Normally I think of hunting,

and what gooseberry is best with pork,

but now I'm thinking about
how I have a child in my cock,

and I'm about to shoot it into you.

It is extraordinary to think of,
is it not?

It is indeed a lot to ponder.

Something has shifted in me.

I know not what, but...

It has been a torrid few days.

Exactly.

Ooh! Here he goes.

Huh.

What do you normally do now?

I normally have a bath.

Great.

Let's do that, then.

You have a rash.

Yes.

It broke out about the time you were ill.

Mm. I'm touched.

This shift in you. It is for change.

Yes. But how?

I don't know how.

You would like to be loved.

I am loved.

Mmm, someone tried to kill you.

Toosh‐ay.

How to change though.

I am perfect,

but I know I must change somehow.
It's a fucking conundrum.

Yes. I see what you say.

This shift in you must be
manifested in Russia.

And then you will be who you desire to be.

This new man.

I said that?

Your point is that you would need to be
a different leader.

Right. Yes. I suppose so.

Hmm.
Listen to the people.

What do they want?

What do they want?
What about what I want?

You would like them to love you,
and be happy.

So what they want is the key to that.

What they want. It's a novel idea.
Possibly French?

Mm. The thing is, they may not always
know what they want.

But as their leader, you will intuit,
and seek their counsel.

Talk to them.
Yes.

I mean, it is easy to guess some things.

It is? Yeah, of course it is.

You may list them, if you like,
to aid our conversation,

as I am in a relaxed state
and do not wish to exert myself,

but know everything you're about to say.

Well, some great art from Europe.

More music. Readings at court.

Science exhibitions. People love them.

They do?
Mm.

In Germany, crowds would gather
in the thousands.

And the happiness and gratefulness
of the people? Extraordinary.

Because they knew the Emperor
wished them happy.

Wished their minds and hearts to grow
as the empire would.

That sounds good.

I could pick the art.
Things people would love.

Do it.

I should go.

Good day, serf.
What do you say of the kingdom?

I'm sorry?

Any thoughts on how things are?

What is this?

Uh, it is a, a parachute.

Walk with me and explain further.

I have a new plan.

And I will get you and the country
everything we need.

And not a drop of blood gets spilled.

Sounds unlikely.

Let's do you a fresh lemon.

So you attach objects to it
and throw them from a high place,

and the wind suspends gravity
for a moment

by floating it in the air as if it flies.

It's a science experiment.

Oh, science. Say more.

Good morning, Countess Dolzhikov
and unknown lady.

- How is your day?
- Good.

Any thoughts on the palace?
What we could do better?

Nothing. All is bliss.

All. Absolutely all.

Marvelous. Yet uninformative.

So, this parachute.

You throw stuff attached off the roof.

- Yes.
- And it flies.

Yes.
And so it... flies.

Floats, but looks to fly for a bit.

And who are you?

Oleg Kaminsky.

Oleg. What do you do here?

Uh, repair things?
Oh, marvelous. And you enjoy this?

It is a constant, sir,
for you break much.

Mm, I suppose we do.

Emperor, these are fresh walnuts
from a tree that I tend in the meadow.

I offer them to you as a‐‐
Oleg, you are a friend indeed.

Nick! Heel!

Jesus. Hey!
Give me the fucking walnut back.

I must eat and we must wait an hour.

You're becoming annoying already.

Arrange this...

Parachute.
Indeed. Seek out Grigor for help.

Huzzah.

Oh, good day, sir. Love the hat.
Thank you, Emperor.

Oh, love your hat, too.

Dress me. Oh, and thank you
for all that you do here.

I don't think the Emperor
will need his clothes.

Ah, George. Alas, I have much to do.

I have sent for Grigor.

You're turning me down?

You've never‐‐ That is true.

Interesting. Huh.

Everything is changing.

Empress.

Leo.

Took a while. Sorry.
Wasn't going to mention it.

Best to ignore it.

I thought so, too.

It is like a thorn in my fucking head,
though.

I'm sorry.

You're not mine.

I have no right to...

You're the one who has to‐‐
Where was that champagne?

Perhaps you've had enough.

I am babbling at you
in a way I find distasteful.

I have had too much, but also, not enough.

We are here.

Now. That is all.

Quote me back to me.
Annoying, and yet cunning.

Because I am so fucking wise.
I get it.

Drink?

Love one. Thanks for asking.

Will you not join us, Empress?

Or are you and Leo about to ride?

I would love to play, ladies,
but it is slightly excruciating.

I suppose it is...

fucking dull.

I have an idea.

Huzzah!

Elizabeth is right. I can do more.

I can be a father. A greater leader.

The thrust for an heir
is paramount. I agree.

Well, I did thrust for an heir
all morning.

Grigor, I said I did‐‐

I am slow this morning.
It landed just then and exploded.

Huzzah, my friend.
Your juice is sacred.

You've always sprayed it about,

but you have more chance of a baby
if you horde it

and spend it only on Catherine.

Is that actual science?
Yes.

Mm. I did pass up George this morning.

Perhaps inside I know it's time
to focus my shots.

Exactly.

Huzzah!

This new invention of smash bottle game

is a gift to you all from Emperor Peter!

Huzzah for me.

Announce the art and science.

Oh. Everyone, I'm to remake our court
into an even more perfect one.

Art is coming to delight us,

and we will have
a demonstration of science.

Huh. We will make things fly
off the top of the palace!

What the fuck?

Leo, old pal, you and me.

Pleasure, sir. Best of three shots.
Most bottles wins?

Mm.

The Emperor 16, Leo 16.

One throw each left. Throw!

Your best shot, Leo.

Hooked it.

Ah‐ha. An opening. But wait.

Oh, Leo, my friend.

Time?

Seven minutes.

An hour is the required time
to be sure of health.

I would feel my juices curdle,
and then I'd‐‐.

Shut up. Just...

I'm starving. Looks delicious.

I've been thinking on your dream
of the raven.

I have tried to forget it.

I think it spoke of two roads.

You're on the road away from godliness.
The...

fornication, the amorality at court,
the bloodshed.

All the fun things.

I think it was asking you
to take a path to godliness.

People loved the art and science idea,

and the bottle smashing.

Tell me.

Did these ideas come to you in a dream?

No. I... came up with them.

And Catherine, who knows art... stuff.

I see.

The dreams that fly into our brain
are God and the fates.

I'm sure the Empress means well.

Modernity is a shiny light

that opens a door
that leads to a dark cliff,

and eternal damnation.

It's just paintings, for fuck's sake.

Time.
Finally.

Looks like pussy.

Look.

Amazing.

That's God, Archie.

I mean, why make fruit
that looks like pussy

if He does not wish us
to eat pussy and have fun? Hmm?

I'm getting an heir, eating a fig,

and making people love me.
I'm sure it is right.

Hmm. I can't stop thinking
about the way the raven

tore at your intestines, like...

ribbons being pulled by
depraved schoolchildren.

Let me eat. Thanks.

It's too salty. And cold, and‐‐

Fuck.

The new chef is no Louis.

He was a genius.

Fuck!

Huzzah.

You're so drunk.

I'm Russian. It is our natural state.

Cute is your natural state.
I do not wish to be cute.

Did you bathe af‐Don't answer that.

Fuck!

What is wrong with me?

I love you. The way of things
is the way of things.

I don't care‐Did you?

We did.
We.

He was strange, and...

I feel I can shift him.

Help everyone in the process.

Excuse me a moment.

I'm sorry.

I have to.
I know.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you,
I love you, I love you.

I am drunk.

I'm foolish.

Both because you love me.

You and a tree.

A happy sight.

Hmm.

Nice bear.

Nice bear.

Shit.

"Soft mattress, soft mind,"
my mentor at the monastery used to say.

Led to an obsession with
soft mattresses for me.

For I battled my noble upbringing

of soft mattresses and warm baths.

A weakness.

But we all have them, do we not?

You are on my bed.

I have been praying for you.

I thank you kindly.

And also for getting off my bed.

Marial.

I did not see you enter.

I'm stealthy.

The Empress and I will have tea.

In the receiving room.

You need a haircut.

Go, please.

I have neglected our friendship, I feel.

I have been fine.
Have you?

You arrived unhappy. You were forced into
adultery and fornication,

and now cling to your Western ideas,

looking for a foothold in our world.

I'm at peace with my life.

Which is what you once asked me to be.

I suppose I did.

My concern is
Peter is in a weakened state.

His brush with death has shaken him,

and I feel he is susceptible to...

weakness.

Art. Science.

These ideas are not his.
They are yours,

and they are dangerous.

They are the future.

Why do people say that?

As if the future is, by its nature,
better than the past,

or a progression, rather than a setback.

Have you come to threaten me?

Or just cajole in a menacing fashion?

What would work best?

Neither.

Do not make an enemy of me,

for you make an enemy of God.

And while God is filled with love,

he has a capacity for wroth,
and a desire to fight for good.

Unrivaled.

And as his vessel,

so do I.

Maybe God speaks through me.

A woman?
Indeed.

He made Eve after Adam.

A progression.

You are dancing close to heresy.

Shall I get some musicians in?

I assumed this was a naive manipulation.

Perhaps I was wrong.

Things must change.

The church could be‐‐ Shh!

Listen, girl‐‐

Do not put your fingers near me
ever again!

What has happened?

The Patriarch is leaving.

Indeed.

Ugh.

He is no friend of mine.

You misjudge him.

One of us does. But it is not me.

Ugh.

Oh, fuck!

Russian scum.
Who wants to die first?

Fucking Swede!

Have you ever tried Swedish meatballs?

Go.

Excuse me. Excuse me.

Uh, hello. Uh...

I am, I'm an official from
the Russian government. Count Orlo.

I have come to negotiate the release
of these men. I have money,

and can arrange for a promissory‐‐

Oh, shit! Sorry!
Aah!

- Finish him!
- Do it!

Kill the Swedish fucker!

Let us go. We'll do it.

No one's going to kill‐‐
SOLDIER 1: Now!

I, I need‐I need a moment.

You fuck! Let us go!

You're being rude. Just...

stay there.

In Siberia, this is how they cremate.

And some seal fat in your vajuju.

I don't want‐‐.

Alas, we are all out of seal fat.

Ah! This is fucking freezing,
and honestly,

it takes all the joy out of it,
quite frankly.

You must eschew the art of lovemaking
for the science of heir‐making.

Can everyone stop mentioning science?

Cool juice. Good.

Okay, okay. Get your fucking hands
off my balls.

Yes, sir.

A hundred thrusts, and then ejection.
I'll count them.

I can count them.
Did you say a hundred?

One, two‐‐
You want to give us some room?

Hmm?

Are they still...?

Mm, thank you.

Hmm. It's duty. Sorry.

Shit. I lost count.
Fifty‐three.

Can you step back?

I saw the first starling
of the year this morning.

Oh, marvelous. I do love starlings.

Increase force of thrust at 70.

It's 73.

Ninety.
Oh!

ELIZABETH and DR. CHEKHOV:
91, 92,

ELIZABETH, DR. CHEKHOV, PETER:
93, 94, 94, 96,

97, 98, 99,

ELIZABETH and DR. CHEKHOV: 100.
Aah. And one.

That was close enough.
Do you want some vodka?

Mm.

Catherine, you must lay in repose
for a few minutes.

Well done.

We shall leave now.

Huh.

You know, I was thinking I might stop
the science thingy.

And the art thingy.

You know, think of other ways to change.

As you wish.

Why, though?

When I was dying, God sent me dreams.

Really.

Archie thinks they are
to turn me to godliness.

Maybe he's right.
Plus, suddenly everything tastes shit.

Might be a sign.
Arsenic affects the taste.

Might just be a lingering after‐effect.

Really?
Science.

Hmm.

I had a dream once

that a horse ate some berries
out of a gold hat.

Gold hat. Berries.

Amusing. Huh.

I don't think all dreams mean things.

What did you think of when you were dying?

My parents.

That I'd be joining them.

And?

I pissed myself at the thought of it.

Or, just because of the poisoning.
Hard to say.

It was terrifying.
She was cruel to you.

She worried I would not be enough.

You can be.

It is as simple as deciding to be.

Sleep here.

Oh. Of course.

What do you think
our children will be like?

Small.
Hmmph. Indeed.

I feel like an agave muffin.
Do you want anything?

Lemons.

Hey! Hey! He's reaching for his bag!

Stop.

My... Bible.

My Bible. I want to read before I die.

Of course.

Fucking kill him! Kill him!

We must be people of reason
and compassion.

He's dying!

So are you.

Kill him! Do it, then!

Kill him!

Kill him! Kill him!

- Do it!
- Kill him! Kill him!

Fucker!

Fuck!

Fucker!

Aah!

Aah!

Aah!

Fuck. Oh, my God. It's the raven.

It's just a bird. They fly in sometimes.

It's just a bird? It's fucking God.

Shit! Oh!

Oh! Oh!

- Shit!
- Oh!

I'm on the wrong path. Fuck!

Fuck.

Do you want me to take it
back to the Patriarch?

What?

I saw him wandering back down your hall.

He had a birdcage.

Fucker.

Fucker.

Really fucking out of order.
I trusted you.

I don't know what you're talking‐‐
The bird.

I just wanted to remind you
that God is watching.

You're being taken down the wrong road,

and for the good of you and the nation,

I cannot allow‐‐

I realize my method may have been,
in retrospect, foolish.

I drank some wine with the bishops,
and something seized me.

An idea that I thought came from God,

but perhaps just the wine‐‐

Ooh! Aah!

Fuck you. Fuck God.

What is this?

I arranged it.
Eggs cannot be tampered with.

We will watch him make them.
They will be fresh and hot.

Vlad has also dug up
a truffle this morning.

Shaved truffle on eggs?
Fucking brilliant.

Lizaveta?

Sir?
Fuck off.

Souvenir.

His head.

Thanks.

You had to. And you did.

Mm.

Oh, deep tasting truffle. So earthy.

Like you are eating autumn.
Fucking‐Thank you.

You know what?

I have thrown men off the roof
and God or Archie did not object,

so what of a silk hankie, and... objects?

No, fuck it. Fuck God.
Trick me. We will do it.

Boy, do you still have your parachute?
Huh?

I think you're right.

Let us bring men of science from France

to think of new, fun experiments
and develop ideas.

Huzzah. Good idea.

Can I ask a favor?

Indeed you may. Anything.

Marial.

My maid.

I know who she is.

She was formerly a lady of the court.

I would like her to be raised back.

Her father...

What did he do?

Ooh!

Such a fine dancer, Brezhnev.

And by fine, I mean ludicrous.

Thank you, dearest Georgina.
The finest beauty in the court.

Brezhnev, you are the funniest of men.

Well, well.

Brezhnev needs to be a part of this.

Shall we all adjourn to the bed?

Uh, George?
You may watch.

Yes. Sit and learn.

I'm a participant in life's
rich carnival.

I will find my own bed further, then.

Oh.

Ah. She was always a noisy one.

So cover your ears.

Mum?
Oh, shit.

Whoo.

Yes!

Get the fuck off my mother.

Uh, just‐Just a jape!

It's a jape!

Oh.

Right.

So, no.

Anything else. Fuck him.

And she is his, so fuck her.

I, I need to give her something.

Well, you are Empress.

You will think of something.

I'm sorry.

Just the dog, Empress?

Bitch.

Empress bitch.

Just keep smiling.

Blini! Blini!

I'm sorry.
He would not budge on restoring you.

All I could do was get your‐‐

Thank you, thank you,
thank you, thank you!

You really love the dog.
I do. I do.

The rest will be harder.

But I can move him.

He's deep down... tender. And troubled.

But that is the sea I put our rudder in.

I will sail him to a new court.

A new Russia.

No bloodshed.

A coup of ideas.

Boo!

So, so just bottles go off the roof?

Or any object, uh, though small,
that may float, sir.

I chose bottles.

If you look to the balcony,

you will see the demonstration
of science begin. Huzzah!

Huzzah!

Caw! Caw!

How's the head?

Not the best.

Looks good from the outside.

You're very kind.

Sorry.
Sorry.

The future will be grand.

Is that a dog?

This is science.

Enjoy.

Huzzah!

Just hope the wind is strong enough
to gather velocity.

Don't know what that is.

That the wind will provide
enough force to hold the dog up.

Well, failure will also be entertaining.

The future is bright.

Huzzah!

Huzzah!