All language subtitles for Trust.S01E10.WEBRip.x264-ION10

Mr. Getty is
in surprisingly good health

considering his months
in captivity.

We are treating him
for mild malnutrition

and the effects of a head wound.

We expect him to be in hospital
for no more than a few days.

That is all. Thank you.

Surprisingly good health.

How about that?

The boy gets released.

He's reunited with his mother,
his loving fiancée.

They all live
happily ever after.

What do you think this is,
the fucking movies?

Stories don't just stop. Look.

Take this rock and throw it...

out into the middle
of that lake.

Bloop.

The ripples will come
all the way back to shore.

Oh, or did y'all forget
what Old Man Getty said

back at the beginning of this
whole damn shit-show?

Dum, dum, dum, dum.

Consequences.

I'm so sorry, Paul.

For what?

Everything.

Thanks.

I need to take a walk.

- Are you sure?
- Yeah.

-No, honey. You need to...
-With Mom.

Oh.

-You should stay in bed.
-It's fine.

Really.

What if, what if I said it was,
it was my idea?

If I'd planned it?

-Planned it?
-The kidnap.

Well, then, I...

...I wouldn't believe you.

I did it.

I planned it.

No.

No.

I mean, look at you.

Your ear.

You couldn't.

- It was my idea.
- No.

It's not possible.

It cannot be true.

It's not possible.

And just as one kidnapping
was finishing--

in ten types
of pure-grade unhappiness--

another kidnapping
was coming along just fine.

Arguably the most
significant building

in the history
of Western Civilization.

And this is the marble frieze
from it,

which currently resides
in a room downstairs.

Is this going to take long?

I've got dinner at the club.

And this is the hall that
I have built as a home for it

in Pacific Palisades.

What's he talking about?

Close to the sea.

It's air conditioned
and constructed strictly

to house these objects alone,

where they will be admired

and if-if I may
use the word, loved...

as they have never been loved
ever before.

Lights.

And you, ladies and gentlemen,

will have a large room

to fill
in this very fine building.

It's an exciting prospect.

Mr. Getty, there has clearly
been a misunderstanding.

I was under the impression
we were...

Gerald, I thought Mr. Getty
was offering his portions

-of the the Parthenon Frieze
to the museum.
-Mm-hmm.

No. No.

Mr. Getty is offering you
half a billion dollars.

Think of the possibilities.

This... beleaguered museum,

prey to a thousand cuts

from penny-pinching bureaucrats,

suddenly as rich...
as rich as I am.

You want us to hand over
the Elgin Marbles to you?

Well, they're not really yours
to keep, are they?

Stolen. I mean,
perhaps that's too strong.

We bloody well paid for them.

Well, let's call it kidnapped

and I'm here to pay the ransom

as a way out from the impasse.

What impasse?

We don't need a way out.

Oh, you will.

The Papadopoulos regime
is going to be overthrown.

And as a symbol
of the triumphant return

of democracy to Greece,

the government will file a brief
with UNESCO

and demand the return
of its rightful property,

the Elgin Marbles.

Well, that's just
bloody nonsense.

Mr. Ortoli, who is the president
of the European Commission

and a friend of mine,

assures me
that it is not nonsense.

Half a billion dollars.

I trust you will take my check.

And why won't the Greeks
take you on?

Oh, the Greeks will take me on.

They will,
but I'm not a government.

I'm just money.

Pure money.

And I can do whatever I want.

Think about it.

But what of our other
entrepreneur?

The fella who started off
stealing to stay alive,

found out that
it made him feel alive?

Primo.

Salute.

And while 1973
turned inexorably

to 1974 for us ordinary folk,

guess which guy was trying
to run time backwards.

Healing well.

Mm.

Never trust the promises
of a doctor.

Von Block?

Oh.

It's very good, Paul.

-Hmm?
-Very good.

- It takes ten years
off you, I'd say.

Hmm.

Yes?

Your grandson is
on the telephone, sir.

Now?

Why?

-I am unable to...
-I will not...

speak to him.

Tell him I'm busy.

Certainly, sir.

The boy lied to me, Von Block.

They all lie to me.

Sons.

Grandsons.

I'm done with them.

The lot of them.

What do I need
with successors, hmm?

What indeed?

I regret to say
your grandfather is unable

-to speak to you, sir.
-Really?

Why?

I regret I am un...

I don't know.

I never know why he behaves
the way that he does.

Why do you stay with him,
Bullimore?

Good-bye, sir.

But I'm happy to report

a heartwarming reconciliation
with his loving father.

Oh, come on, who am I kidding?

You're not gonna believe this.

He's getting married.

Who?

Paul. My son.

Who else would send
a wedding invitation

that looks like a flyer
to a fucking rock concert?

It's wonderful.

Where's the ceremony?

In Italy.

Well, he knows
I can't go to Italy.

I pay his ransom,
and this is how he thanks me.

Banning me
from his fucking wedding?

Not that I would go, anyway.
Not to that.

Little Paul is
getting married in Italy

because that's where he lives.

You paid his ransom
because you're his father.

After refusing even
to discuss it for five months.

Paul, you need help.

I know. That's what you do.

That's right.

Trust me, my darling...

I am going to help you.

Thank you.

But not everyone
deserted the young man

in his hour of need.

One way or another,

the Getty dynasty
was back on the road.

Yeah, can we try and...
hang it over to the...

the right.

Yeah, yeah, right there.
Perfect.

That's great.

Oh.

Hey.

Ah.

-Christ!
-Was the Vatican booked?

-Ciao, Paul!
-Uncle Gordon, Uncle Ronald.

-Buongiorno.
-Buongiorno. You came.

-Hello.
-Uncle Gordon, how you doing?

-I'm well.
-Good to see you.

-You look, you look wonderful.
-Thanks.

-Really.
-Thanks for coming.

-Of course, of course.
-Wow.

Bet there's no air con.

Come on. Come on, guys,

there's some wine
waiting for you.

-Thank you. Grazie.
-Oh, wow.

Is your father coming?

Uh, he's invited.
But... who knows with him?

-I don't know.
-Where's Gail? Is your mom here?

Mom? Uh, she...

I-I haven't...
I haven't heard, so...

-Really?
-Yeah.

-I'm sorry.
-Yeah, it's all right.

Hi.

-Hi. Oh!
-Oh. This is...
-Hey. Martine.

Lovely.
I'm Paul's Uncle Gordon. Hi.

-Hi. Nice to meet you.
-Now I get it. No Getty

disinherits himself
without a very good reason.

-All right, Ronald.
-I see it.

-All right.
-Jutta, come here.

-This is...
-Oh. I'm-I'm Paul's
Uncle Gordon.

-Hello. Jutta.
-Jutta.

-Ronald.
-Hello.

Twins.

- Let's get a drink, guys.
- Yeah. Wine?

No, I'm all done with that.

The movie business
is for idiots.

Yeah. I heard you lost
all your money.

-Not all.
-Mm?

Not by any means.

Now, real estate,
that's where it's at.

I don't know
if it's crazy, but...

I just figure I'd try

and do some good
for the baby, you know?

Give him or her
what I didn't have,

what... you didn't have.

I don't want
the trust money, Gordon.

I never did.

Just be careful, all right?

Of what?

We've been brought up
swimming in money.

In a great big sea of the stuff.

If you want to beach yourself,
that's fine, that's great,

just... make sure
you can walk first.

You know?

Yeah.

I gotcha.

-I'll be damned. It's Gail.
-Mom?

You're here.

-I wasn't sure if you'd come.
-Oh.

Oh, and miss my boy
getting married?

Thank you.

Hey, listen, I'm...
I'm really sorry...

No. Please, Paul, don't be.

It all happened because
I let a little kid drift away.

-No.
-I shouldn't
have let that happen.

Whatever happened after that
was my fault.

-I can't see how.
-Stop.

You're getting married.

And I'm gonna be a grandmother.

Yeah, you are.

What a future.

Give me that.

- Oh, Ronald made it.
- Yep.

I think he's trying
to score with Jutta.

I have a terrible feeling
he might succeed.

Gail!

-Hello, Gordon.
-Hello. How are you?

So good to see you.

You look beautiful.

Maybe I'm wrong.

Maybe that doesn't happen.

Maybe...

just maybe, you can outrun
your fate on wings of gold.

Google it.

Salute.

I know what you're thinking,
but worry not.

The Lord brings justice to both
the righteous and the sinner.

Unless the righteous have enough
money to pay off the justice,

and the sinners don't,
of course.

In the spring of 1974,

those two guys right there

got eight years
in a state penitentiary

for their part
in the kidnapping.

But who cares about the losers
in life, right?

The little people.
What we want to see are winners.

Lord Jeffries.

Mr. Getty.

I-I'm prepared to go

to $550 million.

Then the price
is $550 million...

plus one dollar.

$600 million.

You can buy the whole
of Greece for that.

Then the price is $600 million

plus one dollar.

And if I were to offer you,

for the sake
of argument of course,

$1 billion,
everything that I have?

Then it would have to be
everything you have...

plus one dollar.

Good day.

Khan, good to see you again,
old chap.

Indeed.

You know this man, Jeffries?

We were at school together, sir.

-You went to Eton?
-Briefly, sir.

That's worse than the mafia.

Take me to Belinda.

I wish to see my son.

It's, um, it's like
a doll's house.

I think it's rather sweet.

-Do you want to...
-No.

I'm putting his name down
for Eton.

-Who?
-Him, the baby.

Why?

It's where the aristocratic
mafia make their connections.

No better education, I'm told.

But I don't want him to go away.

They're just gonna hate having
a Getty in their midst.

I'll never see him
from one term to the next.

Don't think of yourself,
think of him.

I am thinking of him.

He needs a mother,
not a prefect.

Besides, he's not actually
a Getty, is he?

-What?
-I signed a contract,

specifically denying me
or my progeny--

such a funny word, that--
any rights to the Getty--

What was it? Fortune, trust,
and all benefits consequent.

Are you suggesting
that he is not my child?

Well, biologically,
no question, darling,

but legally, not according
to the small print.

- Unless you want to renegotiate,
of course.

He'd been on a
winning streak so long,

he wouldn't know what
a losing streak looked like

if it bit him in the eye,
but change was coming.

Was it those Etonians
and their marbles?

Or the baby who refused
an education?

Who knows what falling snowflake
starts the avalanche.

All right, I'm coming, partner.

All right,
let's just take a look.

Good girl, good girl.

They've got mouth ulcers,

inflammation of the esophagus,

and tissue damage.
It's something they've eaten.

Feeding them the same as usual.
They were fine this morning,

had a run in the park, then...

You've got it, too?

I think not. Thank you, sir.

Finally, the day arrived

when the Getty Museum
was complete.

Oh, perhaps there were
a few gaps in the collection,

but as it turned out,
the Parthenon Frieze

wasn't that important
after all.

True, it was across an ocean
he refused to cross,

but still, Mr. Getty had
himself his very own museum.

They're sending them
this instant.

The reviews from
The New York Times,

The Washington Post,

- and the L.A. Times.
- Hot off the press.

-How exciting.
-Where is the man?

About time.

-Give them to Von Block.
-Well...

Thank you.

- Come on.
- Ah.

"Entering the Getty Museum, oh,
I-I expected grandeur..."

"...but not in such
copious amounts.

"This reproduction Roman villa

"is... eh...

"is-is vulgar,

"tasteless,

and straight out of Disneyland."

I love Disneyland.

What? It's very popular, no?

The New York Times

is not the paper it was.

Another.

Oh, the-the L.A. Times.

"Modelled on
an ancient Roman villa,

the Getty Museum..."

Read.

"...would've been better

if it had stayed as a model."

Paul, think of Stravinsky's
Rite of Spring.

Van Gogh's Sunflowers.
What do critics know? Nothing.

Read.

"It is hard to decide

"whether Jean Paul Getty's folly

"is merely incongruous
or genuinely...

ludicrous."

Leave.

All of you.

Now.

Get out!

Oh... oh...

I'll drive.

Go.

Do you not wish me
to accompany you, sir?

No.

Hello.

I've come to see Penelope.

Ah.

Penelope's not in, I'm afraid.

Back later.

Shall I say who called?

Yes.

The oil-producing countries

of the Arab world decided
to use their oil

as a political weapon.

They will reduce
the oil production

by five percent amount until
the Israelis withdraw...

Well, there's another billion
to the man

who can export oil.

Where is he, anyway?

Looks like we've got
another night off.

Oh, darling, he hasn't
humped me for weeks.

Are you still writing your
pornographic stories

for the old goat, Von Block?

If you mean my research
into sexual mores,

no.

His... literary tastes
have changed.

He lost interest.
Finally.

Thank God for that. Mm.

Get me another Whisky Mac,
would you, Bullimore, darling?

Bullimore?

It's one part ginger wine
to three parts whisky, madam.

Bullimore?

Really? God!

Not my idea of immortality,

stuffed and stuck on a cricket
ball in the MCC Museum,

but, you know,
sparrows can't be choosers.

Hello, old chap.

I never thought I'd see it.

I thought you might like it.
Thanks for ringing.

I wanted to return this.

Clematis, narcissus,

cyclamen, oleander.

Tell me something new.

All poisonous to dogs.

Vomit all over the stairs,
the afghan rugs.

Golly.

-But-but no fatalities, I trust.
-No.

But they won't be biting
anybody for a while.

Did you, um...

did you start the nursery?

Garden Center.

-That's what they're
calling them these days.
-Oh.

Going all right, too.

Can you imagine
spending eternity

clinging to the thing
that kills you?

You caught me out just in time.

"The Lord changes times
and seasons.

He removes kings,
and He sets up kings."

Daniel 2:21.

Turns out the Lord has
a sense of humor.

The old man who hated drugs
paid for the port

that now provides 80%
of Europe's cocaine...

...making a bunch
of former goat farmers

the most feared crime syndicate
in the world.

And the richest.

Consequences, Mr. Getty.

Consequences.

Drugs are menacing our society.

They're killing our children.

And if that irony
don't grab you,

how about the fact
that the port is built

in the shape of an ear, huh?

Drinks before dinner?

I don't think there's
a bar, darling.

Oh, what kind of hotel
doesn't have a bar?

This isn't a hotel, Paul.

It's a clinic.

A very nice clinic.

What? What, you...? Fuck.

You tricked me.

Yes.

I mean, I-I can't.
I can't.

No, Paul, I can't.

Not anymore.

Check in here, and I'll think
about staying with you,

but if you leave,
I leave, too.

And however
you want to take it,

just for a while, peace,

like a river,
flowed amongst them.

King Midas had a gift.

Everything he touched
turned to gold.

Everybody knows that part
of the story.

Funny, not so many know
how King Midas died.

Starvation, of course.

As for me,
I learned something.

'Cause, man, if you don't
learn from this,

then... I give up on y'all.

May I help you?

Alex.

I'm Fletcher.

Captioned by
Media Access Group at WGBH