Original subtitles

♪ Hey, hey ♪

♪ Hey, hey ♪

♪ Hey, hey ♪

♪ Hey! Hey! ♪

♪ I don't know what you're looking for ♪

♪ You haven't found it, baby That's for sure ♪

♪ You rip me up You spread me all around ♪

♪ In the dust of the deed of time ♪

♪ Hey, hey ♪

♪ Hey, hey ♪

♪ Hey, hey ♪

♪ Hey! Hey! ♪

♪ And this is not a case of lust You see ♪

♪ It's not... ♪

Thank you.

Would you like some of this muesli?

It's delicious.

♪ You couldn't be that man that I adore ♪

♪ You don't seem to know Or seem to care what your heart is for ♪

Oh, I like this one.

♪ I don't know him anymore ♪

♪ There's nothing where he used to lie ♪

- ♪ My conversation has run dry ♪ - Don't you like it?

♪ That's what's going on ♪

♪ Nothing's fine, I'm torn ♪

♪ I'm all out of faith ♪

♪ This is how I feel ♪

♪ I'm cold and I am shamed ♪

♪ Lying naked on the floor ♪

♪ Illusion never... ♪

Are you sure you're ready for this?

I spoke to your housemaster yesterday

and suggested you might attend as a day pupil for a little while.

Why?

Well, just until things get a little easier.

You could stay with me at Highgrove.

I'm fine.

Or with Granny at Windsor.

Well, obviously, it's your choice. I just... I just want you to move at your own speed.

This is my speed.

I want things to go back to normal as quickly as possible.

Sir.

How are you, William?

Good to see you. ...Thank you.

- We're glad to have you back with us. - Thank you, sir.

Hello?

How did it go?

You are kind.

It was all a little uncomfortable, if I'm honest.

As if he's cross with me in some way.

Well...

- Give it time. - That's what I said, give it time.

Everyone would understand, but...

he couldn't get back to school and away from me quickly enough.

You said he likes his housemaster.

Yes, Dr. Gailey.

That's encouraging.

I'm sure these days they've got better at handling a situation like this.

Oh, let's hope so. I'd hate it for him to be at Gordonstoun in my day.

Their idea of grief counseling

would've been a cold shower and a long march, cross-country.

What's wrong with that?

Better than having some awful fuss made and being mollycoddled.

Yes. Well, we're different in that way.

Mmm.

Does he have friends at school?

Of course. What a question.

Why? You didn't.

True.

Well, it's better he's with his gang.

They'll look after him.

Hmm.

Sometimes, as parents,

we have to admit defeat.

Mmm.

- All right. I'll talk to you soon. - Right.

There are two deliveries. This one's from the school.

More than 600 boys felt moved to offer their condolences.

That's so kind.

And this one contains letters from all around the world.

Mostly, I think, from young ladies.

If there's anything you need, you know where I am.

Dear William, we don't know one another.

I'm two years above you and in a different house,

but I wanted to write to offer my condolences.

I can only imagine what you must be going through.

Please rest assured, all of us in B block have your back.

Andrew Hartley Potts.

Dear Wills,

we're all so sorry for your loss.

Just know that all the boys in ALHG are here for you

if you ever need anything,

including first dibs on the PlayStation and unlimited cups of tea.

Dear William, all of us on the water polo team are thinking of you

and are looking forward to having you back when you feel ready.

Preferably sooner rather than later,

as Kindersley is not a patch on you as keeper.

Dear William, I feel so sad for your loss.

My mother has always loved the royal family,

especially Princess Diana.

She said she was an angel, and I know you're an angel too.

I have enclosed my picture. My friends tell me I am very pretty...

Dear William, you look so cute in a suit and tie.

I am sure you will look really sexy when you have a crown on your head.

I bet you have a great body as you play so many sports.

I've sent you my favorite teddy.

Like me, she's soft and cuddly.

Please hold her tight when you lie in bed each night

and think of me. I hope she will comfort you in your grief...

Dear William, you are so brave for walking behind your mother's coffin.

I can't stop thinking about it.

I lost my mom last year to cancer,

and I think about her every minute of the day.

I know how you feel inside.

You are not alone.

These people are waiting to see

the people's princess pass by on her last journey.

And the royal family are at the gates of Buckingham Palace,

waiting to do exactly the same thing.

- Good shot, mate. - Good shot.

- Great shot. - Go on, mate!

Wales... Dr. Gailey wants to see you in his study.

Okay. Take that.

For a while, I suspect it's going to feel

as though the only question anyone asks is how you're feeling.

But, as your housemaster, it, uh...

it is actually my job.

I'm fine.

- Are you sure? - Yes, sir.

I only ask because the school has received a request

for your attendance at an official event.

As you know, the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh

are celebrating their golden wedding anniversary this year.

As you can imagine, there are any number of commemorative events.

I insisted you be given the right to refuse.

And I was reassured

everyone would understand perfectly if you did.

No, it's fine. I'll do it.

Really?

Well, the good news is... you'll only be required for half a day,

starting with

an official photograph at Buckingham Palace,

followed by a thanksgiving service at Westminster Abbey,

and then a lunch at the Royal Naval College in Greenwich.

Listen, I've been speaking with your tutor.

He tells me you've been pushing yourself hard.

Long hours in the library.

Extra society meetings.

I know distraction helps.

A few years ago, my wife received some bad news.

A, um...

a diagnosis of leukemia.

Mrs. Gailey is better now.

But at the time,

neither of us really allowed ourselves to take a step back,

to take a moment to...

to slow down...

and process what was really going on.

Was there anything else you wanted to see me about, sir?

No.

Three, two, one.

Thank you.

Three, two, one.

Sir, thank you. Three, two, one.

William, keep smiling, darling.

Three, two, one.

- Well, this is a riot. - Yeah.

Here.

- No, thanks. - I filled it with champagne.

Come on, you know you want to.

I haven't gotten through the day without a mint since 1978. Imagine!

Ah...

There is nothing that a peppermint fondant cream...

How's school?

Shit.

Same.

- Everyone's being so... - Weird.

Actually, I was gonna say "kind."

That's what's weird.

How kind everyone's being.

I can't wait for everyone to just go back to being normal.

Uh-oh. Pa alert. Two o'clock.

Right. Shall we?

There's a couple of names and faces

you need to pretend to remember when they come over to you.

Jean, Grand Duke of Luxembourg,

late seventies, white mustache.

Albert II, King of the Belgians,

large glasses, looks like a bank manager.

His wife, Queen Paola, she's blond, Italian,

and, I'm willing to bet, comes wearing an enormous, overly colorful hat.

And King Harald of, uh, Norway.

He's, uh, bald, and his head is shaped like an egg.

Royal Troop!

Present arms!

Sir.

It was madness. Like the arrival of some pop star.

I'm not surprised.

He's such a handsome boy.

I don't think my family knew quite what to make of it all.

The whole thing has a distinct feeling of déjà vu.

You mean Diana?

He does look remarkably like his mother.

Yes.

And it's painful to watch

because, unlike Diana, Will is a shy old thing,

not comfortable with that kind of attention.

Well, who would be?

So he needs your support.

I'm trying, but... he doesn't make it easy.

He's so monosyllabic these days, he's almost hostile.

This isn't about what you're getting from him.

And it's not as if I was given the best example to follow.

The Duke of Edinburgh was hardly the most communicative or...

affectionate father to me.

Hardly surprising given the delinquency of his own father's parenting.

I'm afraid we don't do fathers and sons very well in this family.

And you know my attitude to that.

It's no excuse.

It really isn't.

The boys need you now more than ever.

And if I may...

Go on.

You need them too.

What kind of man can look himself in the eye

if he is a father and know that he's failed at that?

A quick word?

Someone from the Prince of Wales's office called

asking if your father might come and see you.

Here?

I said you could use my office.

Valentine's Day.

Yeah.

Would you, um...

would you like me to dispose of them?

Thank you.

There's always next year.

Sir.

I hope I'm not dragging you away from anything.

Just wanted to see

how you were.

Fine.

And school?

Fine.

Friends?

Fine.

Oh, I heard you, um, broke you the school record

in, um, swimming the... 50 meters.

The junior record.

Well done.

Oh, I spoke with Harry yesterday, and, um...

I suggested to him that it might be nice for us all to

visit Mummy's grave.

Place some flowers.

Maybe it's... maybe it's too soon.

Oh, there was something else.

I'd like both of you to join me in a visit to Canada over Easter.

The idea is to combine a few official engagements

with a four-day skiing holiday in Whistler.

- Just the three of us. - I had plans to see friends.

I think it'll be... it'll be good for us.

As a family.

And for you.

And... and Harry.

It was agony.

- At least you made the effort. - Yes, and he pushed it back in my face.

Well, that is his right.

Imagine if I'd ever spoken to my father like that.

Different generation.

Honestly, I'm black and blue.

Well, it's all part of the job of being a father,

which, I believe, is probably the most important job you'll ever have.

I know.

No, you don't know.

You think you know. But it's obvious you really don't know.

I'll know when you know, and let you know.

Right!

Oh God, I miss you.

When can I see you?

Not yet.

- Yeah. - Too soon.

Yes.

The prison of public opinion.

How are you in all this? You all right?

I'm the last person you should worry about.

You've been so patient.

So gallant.

How you've suffered throughout all this, my poor darling.

Boohoo, poor me.

These are exceptional circumstances.

Mmm.

I'm fine.

Speak tomorrow.

So, okay, well, that looks good.

Yeah, you can see in the documents, the itineraries

that there's a... there's a few moments of, uh... of rest for you.

Who's the Italian man?

- Massimo Bueno. - Open wide.

We met him at Highgrove that time...

Go on.

- Oh! - He's rather good, isn't he?

I think he's very switched-on, and apparently, they're planning...

a scheme to... to, uh, give placement...

...abroad...

to, um, disadvantaged young people.

They want the Prince's Trust to be the lead partner.

- Well, that's encouraging. - Yeah.

Which, um...

which, um... countries were they thinking of?

It's a joint initiative with Italy and Sweden, so I presume now...

Oh!

- Nice to see you, Your Royal Highness. - Thank you very much.

- Thank you, Your Highness. - Thank you so much.

- Welcome. - Thank you very much.

- What's all this? - Sorry, I had no idea.

- Did you know about this? - No, sir.

Charles, Prince of Wales, and his sons, Princes William and Harry,

arrived in Vancouver tonight for a six-day visit to British Columbia.

The three princes will make public appearances

during the next two days

before retreating to Whistler for a ski holiday.

CTV's Colin Gray reports.

G and T or whiskey?

Beer's fine.

Help me welcome our players today...

- How you doing? - Hello.

- Nice to see you. - Hello.

Wendy Goodson, born in, uh, Peru.

And part of the air force for five years. In what capacity?

- Air force. Shipping cargo. - Yeah.

And you served Desert Storm as part of that.

Welcome to the show. Playing with you here is Matt Sutherland, just got married...

To Mummy.

To Mummy.

You know he's lined up some official visits for us tomorrow?

- Who? - Pa.

Oh yeah, I heard. A school for the deaf in the morning.

And a tour of some... space center in the afternoon.

He assured me they'd be shutting the place down.

To keep the girls out.

"Marry me, William! I love you!"

Fuck off.

I'm just jealous.

In the history of humankind, no one has ever screamed for someone with red hair.

There's a new teenage heartthrob in town.

Tall, blond, and blessed with his mother's good looks,

Prince William is officially a sensation.

The world is gripped by Willsmania.

With his blushes and demure smile,

the young prince sometimes seemed embarrassed by the limelight.

But for the many girls who mobbed him and chanted his name,

this only added to his appeal.

- He's the one and only Prince Charming! - I love him.

And he said hi, and then he shook my hand.

I shook his hand!

The moon itself is kept in orbit by forces of gravity,

which means it is inextricably connected to the earth.

But... one mustn't take this relationship for granted

because the moon does, in fact,

seem to have a slow-burning will of its own...

I thought we'd start on a gentle run called Mathew's Traverse,

and then either we come down the Saddle here, which is a little trickier,

or, if we really fancy our chances, there's the Couloir Extreme,

billed as "two and a half thousand feet of thigh-burning hell."

Yes!

Couloir it is.

Now, I've told everyone that for the next few days,

no more interruptions.

It's to be the three of us on our own, family holiday.

Um...

There's just one... brief thing

that we... need to get out of the way first.

A photo-call with a small group of invited journalists.

No.

And then we can head out.

Willy, that's the way it works.

We give them something, and they leave us alone.

- You know I hate this stuff. - It's really not much.

It's already been a thousand times more than I agreed to.

And I've tried to protect you from it as much as possible,

but I'm afraid it's just... something we've all got to learn to live with.

But I hate it.

Hate the press. Hate the crowds. Why tell us we're going somewhere alone,

then put us in front of the people we hate most in the world?

I know. It's insufferable, but... getting angry

and refusing to go out there is not the way to endear yourself.

I'm not the one who needs to endear myself.

I'm not the one with the image problem.

That was pretty harsh.

He did always say we'd have to combine official duties with the holiday.

I don't care.

It's true. He needs to hear it.

Over here, William!

Smile, sir!

- William! - Back here, Your Royal Highness!

- William! - Over here, William!

- Prince William! - William!

That's the word he used? "Hate"?

Again and again.

Hating the press is one thing.

After what happened to his mother, who can blame him?

But having that attitude towards the public...

Not ideal for a future heir to the throne.

Well, you know, we have to remember, he is just a teenager.

Yes, but a teenager who went back to school straight after the funeral

and struggles to express his feelings about his mother's death.

Ah, well, that's not something you can force.

It is something you can encourage though.

But the danger is that he'll simply

shut all that away

with terrible consequences later in life.

Tears and self-pity aren't exactly common currency in this family.

But it's not self-pity, is it? It's grief.

And for his own sake, he needs to let it all out.

Will you talk to him, Mummy?

Sometimes it's easier when it's not the parent.

You know how fond he is of you.

But isn't this precisely where a parent is most needed?

- Can I have one of the peppers? - Yes.

There you are.

What would you like?

I had a telephone call.

The Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh would like to see you on Sunday for tea.

- Okay. Thank you, sir. - Potato?

What would you like?

Sir.

Prince William, Your Royal Highness.

Granny and Grandpa?

Uh...

They decided to leave us to it.

Or rather they told me that we should be left to it.

And I agreed that was best.

Why?

- Because you and I need to talk. - What about?

You're angry with me.

I'm not angry with you.

Come on, it's obvious. I can feel it.

The press and all this unwanted new attention that you've been getting,

they might have upset you,

but really all your frustrations have been pointed at me.

Is it any wonder?

Well, to me, it is, yes.

Frankly, I'm at a loss.

Well, don't just smirk.

Help me to understand.

For a start, you...

you never talk about her. We never talk about her.

I agree, and we should talk about her. The more the better.

About her life, about

our memories of her.

Why do you think I wouldn't want that?

Perhaps you don't like to be reminded how we got to this point.

Don't you think there might be a connection

between where we all are now and your part in it?

I hope you're not insinuating what I think you are.

Let us be quite clear.

Your mother's death was a terrible tragedy,

caused by one irresponsible man drinking too much,

then getting behind the wheel of a car and driving too fast

to escape from photographers.

Which you and I both know she often encouraged.

The fact that she was in Paris?

- Her choice. - With that man? Those people?

- Again, her choice. - Without any royal protection!

That was not my doing. I always said she needed police protection.

But she should never have been anywhere near the Fayeds!

She should have been safe with us. The fact that she wasn't is your fault.

No, you didn't actually drive the car,

but you drove her into the arms of those that did.

By making her so unhappy.

By loving someone else.

Well, if you want to make that

connection, then...

that's your right, but...

I find it very upsetting, and

deeply unkind.

My responsibility for Mummy ended a long time before she got to Paris.

That accident was not in any way my fault.

And to even suggest it was is... is outrageous.

Is it?

Yes.

I resent the accusation.

With everything else you've started to resent about me?

I don't know what you're talking about. I could not be more proud of you.

Proud of how you've come through this, proud of how you're growing up,

proud of your popularity.

Since when have you taken pleasure in anyone else's popularity?

- We both know you struggle being upstaged. - Nonsense.

It's true.

All those games of one-upmanship you and Mummy used to play.

Stories in the press. Stealing each other's headlines.

- Always tried to outshine one another. - No one ever outshone your mother.

You think I'm just like her. And you hate me for it.

William.

William, look, I admit, I...

It... it has been strange.

Unnerving, perhaps, to see the... similarities.

The way the...

crowds connect with you, adore you,

the way you... move something in them.

And, yes, all right, I'm... still getting used to it because I...

I do see her in you.

But that's not a bad thing. In fact, it's a rather wonderful thing.

And it's only natural

between a son and his mother.

Look, I...

I know I haven't got everything right.

What parent does? I wish I had half your mother's emotional intelligence.

And I'm sorry I haven't

risen to the occasion

in the way that you wanted me to, but

the thing that people don't understand is that I've been grieving too.

Really?

Your grief. You're talking to me about your grief?

Yes, of course.

What? You think I'm not shattered by this?

Your mother and I had just patched up our differences. We'd...

Patched up your differences?

What planet are you on?

She still loved you,

and only wanted to be in the South of France

so not to be there when you threw a birthday party for the other one.

Oh.

I hope you don't mind. Dr. Gailey let me in.

Sorry.

Oh, nothing to be ashamed of.

Do they have names?

That's, uh, Claudia Schiffer, Cindy Crawford, and Naomi Campbell.

In my day, it was Rita Hayworth, Betty Grable, and Lana Turner.

Mean anything to you?

- No. - No, of course not.

That was reckless.

You went charging in like some deranged Viking.

Oh!

And again.

Oh shit.

Language.

Oh...

Revenge?

No.

Not when you're in this state.

One should never play chess with one's emotions.

So, what's going on?

Family.

Oh, family.

Psychologists are fairly evenly split

between those who think a child should never be separated from its family

and those who think the sooner it's rescued from its family the better.

It's not everyone in the family.

It's just you-know-who.

Yes, well,

before we talk about you and your father...

I'm assuming it's your father.

...I want to talk to you about something else.

Back pain.

- What? - I get it from time to time.

And when I do, I find it easier to label it just that.

Back pain or neck pain or shoulder pain.

Rather than what's actually causing it.

Unresolved anger.

Feelings of guilt.

Or resentment.

I don't resent him.

He resents me.

Oh, no, for what it's worth, I don't think that's true.

But maybe you're angry with your father

because it's more acceptable than admitting

who you're really angry with.

It occurred to me when I was... watching you in Greenwich with all those girls.

And then in Toronto.

Vancouver.

All of a sudden, you've become a public figure. Public property.

And that isn't easy.

I hate it.

All the screaming and the shouting and all the attention.

It's as if they think because I...

look like her, I'm like her.

You're not remotely like her.

I know that.

So, is it possible you're angry with her for having been all the things you're not?

Comfortable in the spotlight.

Confident in front of an adoring crowd,

which you think you now have to be.

- And hate. - Hmm.

And is it possible you're angry with her because,

well, because of her leaving you?

And leaving you to deal with that legacy?

Except,

what son can ever be angry with his mother?

Especially when he's grieving... for her

and missing her so terribly.

So you take it out on someone else.

And blame him

for the fact that she's gone.

An accusation I'm sure he's leveled at himself a hundred times.

As have we all.

But it's not our fault.

And it's not his fault.

And one day,

when you're a father

and your own son is staring at you with murderous eyes,

and you're praying for his forgiveness,

as your father is currently praying for yours...

...and as I have on

shamefully too few occasions prayed for his...

well...

maybe remember this chat.

Off you go.

- Is my father in his study? - In the garden, sir.

Thank you.

Hi, Pa.

Willy.

What are you doing here, old chap?

I thought you'd be at school.