Oh, shut up, Dolly, get on with it.
Don't talk to me like... okay.
Just as I said, don't step on my foot.
- Okay, darling. Okay. - That's all I want...
Have you seen my black toe?
Well, how did you...
I didn't stand on it on my own, darling.
- One, two, three, four. Good. - One, two, three, four.
- You're such a good teacher, darling. - I know I am.
- And one, and two... - Three. Now we go sideways.
- Yes, okay. - And don't forget. And side.
What is going on?
Dorottya.
May I inquire what on earth is going on?
Well, good morning, Ms. Trudeau.
Freddy and Dolly were just having an early morning dance,
and they weren't dressed warm enough, you know, so I thought that...
- It is not your place, Dorottya. - Mrs. Trudeau.
You should have notified the night nurse.
I'll take over now... Thank you.
Merciful God, I'm so bored.
Bored, bored.
- Why? - Must one have a reason?
It depends what you're bored with.
For one thing, you're the queen. I'm glad you mentioned it.
You've been on a crusade.
You must have seen wonderful things,
things that I've only dreamed of.
And do you dream a lot, Henry Plantagenet?
Yes, I do. I hold the world in my hands.
Daddy, please, be reasonable. For once.
That's a big dream.
Yes. Tell me about Jerusalem.
Jerusalem.
Jerusalem was boring and very hot.
Dimitri, Dimitri.
What have I done that I should be treated so disrespectfully?
- Please stop being such an old ham. - That it should come to this.
Hmm?
Hiring somebody to care about me.
Caring for you. It's not the same thing.
We could never hope to pay anyone to care about you.
Oh!
Thank you, Sophia. Always a kind word for your dying father.
Just see her for a few minutes.
Talk to her, is that too much to ask?
- Is she a Muslim? - Oh, don't start that again.
- Of course she's not a Muslim. - The last one was a Muslim.
- No, she wasn't. She was Russian. - She had a burka.
She didn't have a burka. She had a cold.
- I'm still not interested. - Daddy, please.
Oh! Bugger off!
And let me rest in peace.
You didn't say you were going straight to the Oscars.
I wish you all the luck in the world.
- You must be Dorothy. - Yes, Dorottya. Dorottya Horvat.
- I'm Sir Michael Gifford's chauffeur. - Nice to meet you, hello.
Mmm...
Sorry, what was your name?
Joseph, miss... Joseph McGill.
And how long have you been working for Sir Gifford, Joseph?
Over 40 years.
My father saw H. Lear in Belgrade.
He used to rave about it all the time.
- I was there, you know. - No way.
- I was his dresser back then. - Amazing.
He was the life and soul of the company.
He'd be laughing and joking in the wings,
and then go on stage and play tragedy.
If he had to cry in the part,
I'd be waiting there in the wings with a glass of champagne,
to dab his eyes.
Piper Heidsieck, 2002. That's the year at the moment.
Nowadays, I work mostly for his daughter, Mrs. Morley.
- Doing what? - Driving.
I do the gardening. Lovely garden.
- So you don't dress him anymore? - Good God, no.
He hates that now. Hates being dependent.
Quite right. I hate it, too.
Well, I'm told he is difficult.
No, no, miss, that's not right.
He's bloody impossible.
Wow.
My God.
- Rather big, isn't it? - Oh, yes. Let me help you.
No, no. No, no, no.
I tell you, it's a nightmare to keep up.
That's why I work in the garden.
And, um, Mrs. Morley? What's she like?
She's her father's daughter. Very strong willed.
She wants him to sell up and move in with her.
But Sir Michael's lived the whole of his life here.
The best years, anyway.
Oh, well.
Hello, Miss Horvat.
Dorottya, isn't it?
Unusual name. Though not if you're Romanian, of course.
Hungarian, actually. I am 100 percent Hungarian.
- Even if my name is Horvat. - Yes, yes, of course.
Which in Hungarian means "Croat". But I am Hungarian.
My mistake entirely.
This is Dr. Alastair Satterthwaite, my father's doctor.
A pleasure to meet you.
And this is Milly Holcombe, she manages the house.
Miss Horvat, I'm very sorry,
but it seems like you've come all this way for no reason.
My father refuses to have you as his carer.
I am very sorry.
I don't know what you mean. Sir Gifford hasn't even met me.
You mean, "Sir Michael."
We don't say "Sir Gifford" in this country.
I'm sorry.
Perhaps if we let Miss Horvat stay for a few days...
I don't think that's a good idea.
It's a jolly good idea.
He might change his mind. Just to spite you.
Joseph and I are perfectly capable of looking after Michael. We really are.
Joseph hates doing it. He said so himself.
And Sir Michael hates it, too.
You already know, I gather,
that Sir Michael suffers from a rare type of Parkinson's disease.
- Yes. - He has his good days, and,
well, less good ones.
For the time being, we can alleviate the symptoms with medication,
but he soon might need to be bathed, taken to the lavatory.
Wiped, if needs be.
Are you quite sure you're the kind of person that could do that?
Definitely, yes.
Unfortunately, I... I have experience.
Before my father died, near the end,
I saw how much he was suffering
because he couldn't produce... Stool?
Yes, the word is stool.
So sometimes I took him into the lavatory,
and I put my finger into his, uh...
Rectum...
Rectum, yes, thank you. To relieve him.
I didn't like doing it, but he was my father, and he was in pain.
And that's what it's all about, right?
Helping and relieving.
Okay, well, I suppose you can stay for a day or two.
Milly, will you take care of Miss Horvat?
Make sure she's fed and... Well, you know.
Is that okay with everyone? Good.
So, what made them change their minds, miss?
- I did. - Oh!
Excuse me, where is this one from?
Oh, Lord. BBC.
Some king or other.
Lots of kings. 1978.
- And that one up there? - Troilus and Cressida.
Very good.
Shit.
A-ha!
Got you, you little bastard.
Yes. Okay, you're going back in the pond.
Yes.
Shit.
Argh!
Help!
Someone, come on!
Help me!
Hey! Someone fucking help me!
Help me!
When you've quite finished gawping,
would you please be so kind as to get me out of this suppurating rose bush?
I feel like Buster fucking Keaton on a bad day.
- Who the fuck are you? - I am Dorottya.
I didn't ask your sodding name,
I asked who the fuck you are.
What are you doing in my garden?
I'm your new career.
- You're my "new career"? - Yes.
Now, there's a depressing thought.
Fucking frogs!
I've spent a fortune on this adventure park for them,
and the little buggers won't even go near the place.
Why do you think that is?
They just can't appreciate beauty.
What did you say your name was, again?
Dordogne? Torino? Burrito?
Dorottya.
You're a scrawny little thing. I pulled you up, didn't I?
Not very pretty. Actually... Well, I think...
You look like a girl I used to fancy in nursery.
Which you look as if you're still attending.
And don't say I look like someone.
I'm too famous to look like anyone else.
Other people look like me.
If they're lucky.
Oh! Oh.
I think I need to lie down. I'm going to be sick.
Oh! No.
Michael.
Michael, you are all right? What's happening?
Don't fuss, Milly. I'm all right. Tickety boo, never better.
You are covered in rose petals.
- Oh, yes, yes, rose petals. - Didn't you know?
This young lady and I just got married.
- Really? - I'm sorry you haven't been introduced.
This is Lady Dordogne Dorito Burrito Gifford.
And we're on our way to consummate the union.
For God's sake. Oh, Milly, please, don't upset yourself.
Just go back where you came from and leave me alone.
Michael, this is the girl you told Sophia...
"Take thy form from off my door!
"You fucking Raven, nevermore."
Silly cow.
Problem is, she adores me, so I can't be too hard on her.
You did well, Tortilla.
Dorottya. Whatever.
- Tell me who you are again. - I am your career.
- Carer. - "Carer."
- The word is pronounced "carer." - Carer.
You haven't got a...
Oh, no, I don't smoke. And I don't think that you should, either.
Who the fuck cares what you think?
I'm a dying man,
and it's traditional to give a dying man a cigarette.
You'll find some over there.
In the Complete Works, Shakespeare, page 1613.
Ah! Mmm.
Now, you, too, quickly pave the way to hell.
- Hello, miss. - I'm so sorry. Hi.
How are you getting along with Sir Michael?
I'm not. Milly will hardly let me near him.
I'll have a word.
Excuse me.
Hello.
A letter came for you.
Turn on your video.
It's from the drama school.
What does it say?
"Dear Miss Dorottya Horvat."
"We are pleased to inform you, that your application..."
You are in. You've passed the first test.
- No way. - Successful.
You have to ring some Ms. Henderson
to confirm your appointment for the second round.
Don't forget to give them your new address.
"Care of Sir Michael Gifford," they'll love that.
Dorottya!
- She's over here. - Where is "here"?
I have to go now. Bye.
Bye, Joseph. Helping me in the garden.
We don't pay her to help you in the garden. Tell her to come at once.
- Go away! - Michael, it's only Milly.
- Leave me alone! - Michael, please.
- What's wrong? - I said, fuck off!
I think he had an accident.
- I'm coming in. - Go away!
- Oh, no. - Yes, it stinks.
Stinkus, stinka, stinkum.
Did you... Well, obviously I did.
- A number two? - Of course it's a fucking number two!
Is this how pee smells in Bulgaria?
Hungary. Fuck Hungary!
Oh! Just leave me alone!
Of course I'm not just gonna leave you alone.
"What's in a name?"
"That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."
"Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you,
trippingly on the tongue,
but if you mouth it, as many of your players do,
I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines."
"Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion be your tutor."
How the fuck do you do that?
When you can't even speak proper English.
- I've been on the stage. - Oh.
Now, just relax.
Oh, God.
No, I'm afraid, I think...
Probably, this is the best thing to do then.
Okay. No, I'll tell her. I'll tell her.
All right. Thank you very much. Bye-bye.
So...
The job is yours if you want it.
- Thank you. - I mean it.
No, don't thank me. It was Sophia's decision.
I hope you'll last.
I'll be okay.
So, after what's happened we'll have to bring Michael's bed downstairs
and put it in the dining room.
And convert the scullery into a bathroom.
Sir Michael's going to sleep in the dining room?
Yep.
And you'll be next door. It won't be as nice as it was upstairs,
but you'll have to stay close to him day and night.
I'll arrange your pillows. You should sleep.
Oh! So now you're gonna tell me when to sleep?
I'm sorry I got that wrong. I should sleep.
You were hired to give a 24 hour service.
Exactly. And the 25th hour is just starting.
Sweet dreams.
"To be or not to be."
No, no.
To be or not to be.
That is...
Dorottya!
That is the question.
Dorottya!
Do you know this? This is why you called?
- Do you know it or not? - Of course I do.
To Be or Not to Be.
Do you know, it was all made by Hungarians.
Hungarian producer, Hungarian cameraman, Hungarian set designer.
Even the man who wrote the script was a Hungarian.
Hungarian my arse. He was Polish.
Why do you always have to argue?
His name is Melchior Lengyel.
Which means Polish, but he was Hungarian.
Of course. Who wasn't? Anyway, anyway. Take a look at this.
Here is how it should be played. He walks forward.
And he says, "To be..." To be...
And here, he should take the long pause.
Everybody knows what's coming,
but he keeps them waiting for it.
And then the fucking idiot prompter comes out with...
"Or not to be."
- Much funnier, don't you think? - Mel Brooks did.
- What? - That's exactly how his version goes.
Oh, well, then. He is clearly as talented as I am.
Where in the name of Poseidon's barnacled backside have you been?
I'm sorry. I took the wrong bus.
I mean, I took the right bus in the wrong direction.
The stupid bus stop is on the wrong side of the road.
Got my cigarettes?
Ah!
- What the hell is this? - Guess.
I also bought this.
You see, you can cry without champagne.
Something you've learned about yourself.
You've been talking to Joseph.
How it had to be Piper Heidsieck 2002.
Joseph talks rot.
2006 was perfectly adequate.
I'm not interested.
- Try it. - Don't want to.
It's so simple.
Look, all you have to do is press this key here, and you can text.
And you don't even have to write whole words. Understand?
- No. - Oh yes, you do. Don't be such a baby.
- All you have to... - Oh! Please don't start again.
Well, then do it.
Shan't.
I already put my number into your memory, so...
What?
You can write something, and text it to me immediately.
Come on, try.
Oh!
The cat dug his claws into my balls.
- What was all that screaming? - The cat.
But it didn't hurt him. He's fine.
I just...
I just can't bear to think about him in those nappies.
He'll be okay. I promise.
When someone's as young as you,
there's nothing very complicated about old age.
A person's just old, and that's that.
When you look at Michael, you see a sad, old, incontinent man.
But when I...
When I look at him, I just see all the Michaels I've ever known.
That's not true.
When I look at him, I see all the glorious roles that he has played.
Well, you've certainly lasted a lot longer than any of the others.
He must like you.
I make him laugh. He says you're not stupid.
Which is the nicest thing he's said about anyone in the last 25 years.
I had Sophia on the phone. I told her that.
Thank you.
You think the frogs smell the presence of death?
Please stop talking about death.
- Why not? - It's all I've got left.
That and shitting in my nappies.
I don't suppose there's any point in asking you to help me to commit suicide?
Um, no. You won't get into any trouble.
Oh, I've got it all worked out. No.
Scared you'd lose your job?
Obviously. They wouldn't pay me to push around an empty wheelchair.
I thought so.
It is hard to have a conversation
with someone who knows what I've got on under my trousers.
Think of it as a protection from the cat's claws.
It's like doublet and hose.
You remember that actor from the movie?
He always looked like he was wearing nappies, right?
- Jack Benny. - Yeah.
So, tell me.
Why are you really here?
I don't know what you mean. I'm your carer.
Carer, my arse.
Career, more like it.
You say you're an actress.
Hmm...
"A rose by any other name would smell as sweet."
Well, obviously you must have played Juliet.
No, I haven't. But I did play Hamlet.
What are you? Another Sarah fucking Bernhardt?
Well, I was much better than her.
Ooh! Oh!
Modest with it.
I grew up in an experimental theater. Ah! Suck it and see.
There was a director, the heart and soul of the company.
He said, "Being an actor is not something you do,
"it's something you are."
So I said to him, "Let me be Hamlet."
He was very ill by then and far beyond worrying about critics.
So he let me be Hamlet.
They gave it rave reviews in the end,
but he didn't live to read them.
A merciful release, perhaps.
So, is that why you're here?
I don't know what you mean.
"Will you play upon this pipe?" Recognize it?
Act Three, Scene Two. But I don't know it in English.
Oh! Come on, Dorottya.
You're not gonna pass up the chance to play Guildenstern
opposite to Sir Michael Gifford's Hamlet?
"Will you play upon this pipe?"
"My Lord, I cannot." "I pray you."
"Believe me, I cannot." "I do beseech you."
"I know no touch of it, my Lord."
"'Tis as easy as lying.
"Govern the ventages with your finger and thumb,
"give it breath with your mouth,
"and it will discourse most eloquent music."
"But these cannot I command to any utterance of harmony,
"I do not have the skill."
No.
You have not the skill.
You have absolutely no chance of making it on the stage here.
- I can learn. - You certainly need to.
- Then teach me. - Out of the question.
- Why? - You have to look up to your teacher.
But I do look up to you.
Of course. From below. When you're washing my arse.
- Hello, Joseph. - Hey.
- Will you take her around? - You bet.
Where's Milly?
She's taking Dorottya to the train station.
She's been telling me how well you get on with her.
- I'm so pleased. - With whom?
Miss Horvat.
Alastair also says she's doing a first-class job.
I haven't the foggiest idea who you're talking about.
Of course you do. Joseph picked her out for you.
Which immediately made her far more suitable than the ones I found.
Mmm... "Did I deserve no more than a fool's head?
"Is that my prize?"
Funny you should mention prizes. I got a call this morning.
The Critics' Guild want to give you a Lifetime Achievement Award.
About fucking time.
What? They run out of pygmies?
TV stars and second-raters?
- Do I have to pay? - Of course you don't.
I said that you'd be very honored,
and I would accept the award on your behalf.
Mmm...
Just like your mother.
Not only my money, you want my glory, too.
God. What a monster you've become.
Or were you just born that way?
I don't know. You'd have to ask my mum.
- And find Joseph, will you? - I need a word.
Do you think they're all the same age?
I haven't the foggiest idea.
Or do you think there are old birds, and young birds, and middle-aged birds,
and one day the oldest ones just drop out of the sky, dead?
"There's a certain providence in the fall of a sparrow."
"In the fall of a sparrow."
"If it be now, 'tis not to come. "'Tis not to come."
"If it be not to come, it will be now." "It will be now."
"If it be not now, yet it will come..." "If it be not now..."
"The readiness is all." "The readiness is all."
Don't tell me you've played Hamlet, too?
Don't be absurd.
I've seen Michael play it so many hundreds
of times that some of it's gone in.
A bit like passive smoking.
You're a funny girl, Dorottya.
That's probably why he's taken to you like he has.
I don't think I was ever really very funny.
Can I ask you a personal question?
Were you and him ever...
It was ages ago.
He didn't want to get a divorce,
I wanted to kill myself.
I didn't, of course. People generally don't.
Some do.
Particularly the very young.
They're so impatient.
They're incapable of waiting for anything.
Even death.
Drink up. You've got a train to catch.
- You wanted to see me, sir? - Yes, Joseph.
Come in. Close the door.
- You're looking a bit scruffy. - I've been gardening, sir.
Oh! Yes, of course. "Thrift, thrift, Horatio!"
- Sit down. - I...
Sit! Mmm!
- Tea? Do you like muffins? - No, thank you, sir.
How long have we known each other, Joseph?
Ooh! Well, over 40 years, sir.
We've always got along pretty well, haven't we?
Yes, sir, I think so.
In fact, I think you might well be my best friend, Joseph.
Thank you, sir. I'm...
I'm very touched.
- So why start lying to me now? - I'm sorry, sir?
Sorry's not good enough, Joseph.
- This is betrayal. - Sir Michael.
The girl, Joseph.
Don't piss about.
Well, I just thought you'd both be well suited.
You must admit, she's perked you up.
And all that Shakespeare, she speaks it, too.
So we speak the same language, yeah?
Yes, sir, that's about it.
Hmm...
I'll...
Joseph.
When you put manure around the roses, does it make them grow?
- Oh! Yes, sir. - But it smells, Joseph. Stinks.
- I dare say, sir. - This Burrito business stinks.
Stinks of conspiracy to me.
Just like any play.
What's that? Something you said to me once.
"Great dramatists and great actors conspire
to blow up complacency, corruption,
"pretension, all the vices of our rich, sordid, jaded world.
"With humor, passion and, wherever possible, a large dollop of sex."
- Did I really say that? - I wrote it down.
Oh God. You must let me have a copy.
I haven't said anything that good for years.
'Tis much he dares, and, to that dauntless temper of his mind,
he hath a wisdom that doth guide his valor to act in safety.
There is none but he whose being I do fear,
and, under him My genius is rebuked,
as it is said Mark Antony's was by Caesar.
He chid the sisters
when first they put the name of king upon me.
Thank you. Thank you very much.
- Much improvement since last time. - Thank you.
Next.
Dorottya Horvat.
You're next.
Good luck.
How are you?
Good, thank you.
Jolly spiffing, tickety boo, never better.
And you?
We're a bit tired, late in the day.
But I'm sure you'll jolt us back to life.
Let's see, you're Hungarian, you did some acting in Budapest,
and we liked you.
But we had some concern about the level of your English.
I think my pronunciation has improved a lot since then.
I'm not surprised.
It says here that you're being tutored by Sir Michael Gifford.
See, I am actually not being...
I saw in the paper this morning
Sir Michael's getting a Lifetime
Achievement Award from the Critics' Guild.
Do pass on our congratulations, won't you?
Now, last time you did Shakespeare pieces.
This time I'd like you to improvise.
Invent a character, and let us see her secret thoughts.
That'll be easier in terms of your accent as well.
Both for Shakespeare and for us.
Why don't you do someone with an accent?
Zsa Zsa Gabor, for example?
No.
Actually, I'll be Professor Henrietta Higgins.
And what do you teach, my dear professor?
Diction. And proper English pronunciation.
For girls with strong accents.
I have no more questions then.
Two minutes, my dear Professor Higgins.
It's been a long day.
A little talent.
But so many who have no idea of what it takes.
Look at this one, for example...
She says in her application that she's an actress.
In Budapest or Bucharest?
What's the difference, anyway?
Have they even got a theater there?
Although, come to think of it,
that Molnar fellow, he was a Hungarian, right?
The one who wrote that, um, that Carousel.
Well, I was in that one, playing that famous actress, Ilona.
I was pretty good in that. Well, I was absolutely fantastic.
That Molnar fellow, he could really write.
But who has ever heard of a Hungarian actress?
Oh, yeah, Zsa Zsa Gabor, of course.
And Eva Gabor and Magda Gabor.
But that's one family. Is that really it?
I mean, they're hardly the bloody Redgraves. Right?
Dorottya!
Where's that bloody girl? She's never here when I need her.
She went to visit her uncle. You let her go.
Look. Oh, it's sweet.
Remind you of anyone?
I'm glad you like her.
She's the first one you don't seem to mind having around.
Milly.
Don't tell me you're jealous.
No, of course I'm not. I just...
I don't exactly see what you see in her.
She has fire in her belly.
She reminds me of myself at that age.
A mixture of innocence, hunger, and ruthlessness.
And me? What did you see in me?
Well, first of all,
your arse.
And then, I would have sold my soul to find out if your
breasts were pear or apple-shaped. Yeah.
Oh, really?
And what were they?
Golden delicious.
Topped off with ripe strawberries.
Strawberries? Indeed. Not anymore.
Very ripe.
When I saw you, I fell in love with you. I know I did.
Straight off, just like that.
All my life I have been hiding my feelings.
I just heard the news. Congratulations. Thank you.
Got out of the habit of doing anything real.
What does it feel like, watching yourself?
Acutely depressing.
Like looking at a mirror that reflects what you used to be.
A kind of inverted Dorian Gray.
They've asked for some clips to be used at the ceremony.
What's that?
More nappies?
"That great baby you see there is not yet out of his swaddling clouts."
"Happily he's the second time come to them,
"for they say an old man is twice a child."
Actually, it's toilet paper.
Speaking my language, eh? I don't know what you mean.
All that Shakespeare bollocks.
It's contagious.
Well, I certainly hope so.
Quite right.
And talking of toilet paper, would you please be so kind as to make sure
the paper unrolls over the top of the roller, and not from the bottom?
I don't know how many times I have to tell you,
but you keep putting it the wrong way.
- I swear you've never mentioned it. - I did, you know.
- No, you didn't. - Yes, I did, Dorottya.
- No, you did not. - I did.
- No, you didn't! - I did, too, you Romanian bitch!
Hungarian! I'm Hungarian!
I know you're a fucking Hungarian!
You keep fucking telling me!
I keep fucking telling you because you keep fucking forgetting!
Your English has come on since you've been here.
Thank you.
I'm sorry. But you deserved it.
Very possibly. But just do it my way.
All right?
No problem.
So, will you go to the award thing?
Sophia thinks I shouldn't, of course, but...
You know, comme ci, comme ca, and all that.
Well, I think you should go.
I'd have to make a fucking speech.
Making speeches is your strong suit.
It might be like attending my own funeral.
I would love that.
Hear all those nice things that people have to say about me.
You'd be lucky.
I rang The Times once and asked to see my obituary.
The buggers refused.
They never reveal anything prior to publication.
You see? That's exactly why you should go.
Otherwise it will be too late.
Hmm...
Dorottya!
It will do you good to get out of your gilded cage for once.
Quite right.
I don't suppose Milly will like it. Who the fuck cares?
She doesn't need to know.
Today is market day. She won't be back till the afternoon.
You know, maybe I oughtn't to be seen in a wheelchair.
Just wait a second.
- Good afternoon. - Afternoon.
Oh! Piss off!
I'm perfectly capable of sitting at a table alone, thank you.
- Sir Michael. - George.
You're looking well.
Jolly spiffing, tickety boo, never better.
Thank you.
You don't know how much people miss you.
You were our main attraction,
if you don't mind me saying so.
Perhaps I should charge appearance money.
- Are you keeping busy, sir? - Oh! Don't ask.
I've taken on a new secretary.
Name's Tortilla. She's Bulgarian.
So what's it to be, sir? The usual? Yes, please, George.
Oh, uh...
I don't make the law, Sir Michael. I just have to obey it.
Understood. Understood.
Cunt.
Hmm?
Kant. Immanuel Kant.
Famous outdoor smoker and philosopher.
Keep the change.
Oh, thank you, miss. Thank you very much. Thank you.
And just for future reference,
my name is Peter.
He seems a nice man.
- Who? - George.
He's a pub landlord. They're written that way.
It's like saying Romeo is good at chatting up the girls,
Hamlet is a bit indecisive, and Lear is a grumpy old fart.
They say your Lear was absolutely terrific.
From the heart, born to play it.
All right. All right.
- Where's my change? - No change.
I gave him a tip.
Quite right.
Can't have them saying I'm mean.
♪ As I walk along the Bois de Boulogne ♪
♪ With an independent air ♪
♪ You can hear the girls declare ♪
♪ "He must be a Millionaire." ♪
♪ You can hear them sigh and wish to die ♪
♪ You can see them wink the other eye ♪
♪ At the man who broke the bank at Monte Carlo ♪
- Are you okay? - Oh, my God!
Sir Michael!
What's happened?
Come along. Oh, dear.
- He only had one drink. - Michael, are you all right?
What the hell is going on?
Michael!
How dare you take him out of the house!
- I'm sorry. - Sorry?
- Is that all you've got to say? - Oh, dear. It's all right.
What has he had to drink?
Whiskey and soda. That's what he wanted.
Whatever appalling training you might've had, surely you know
not to give alcohol to a patient on medication.
Whether he wants it or not!
Maybe not. But when have you seen Michael this happy?
"Sir Michael" to you!
Michael, did you fall out?
Okay, I'll take it from here. I'll take it.
Ugh.
- Will you answer that? - It's probably another bloody reporter.
Tell them to piss off.
He's not going, he's not making any comment,
and he won't be posing for any photographs.
Hello, this is Sir Michael Gifford's residence.
I'm sorry but Sir Michael can't come to...
Yes.
Yes, hello, Mrs. Henderson.
No, I'm afraid Sir Michael can't come to the phone right now.
It's me, Dorottya.
I can pass the message on.
I'll let you know. Okay. Thank you.
Bye-bye.
Who is Mrs. Henderson?
She's the administrator at the London School of Dramatic Arts.
And why does she know you?
Because I applied there.
And I had to give them some kind of an address, right?
Right.
Wonderful day.
So, you started writing your memoirs?
Not at all. This is my speech.
- What speech? - For the award thingy.
You're not serious. I've never been more serious in my life.
You know, Milly, I've always wanted to say that line.
And in my entire career I never once did.
But, Michael, they're not expecting you.
Well, then they're in for a pleasant surprise.
You can't possibly be serious. Ah!
I've never been more serious... What does Sophia say?
Well, when I tell her, she'll be against it, of course.
Not that I give a fuck.
And Dorottya?
Oh, wildly enthusiastic about the idea.
In fact, when I think about it,
she might have even suggested it in the first place.
Mad. Mad. Mad. Mad.
"When the wind is southerly she knows a hawk from a handsaw."
Do you know a hawk from a handsaw?
I doubt it.
Afternoon, miss.
Afternoon. Afternoon.
You wanted to see me.
Why here?
Because I don't want you in the house.
This meeting is to end your employment.
What?
I want you out.
Out of the house, out of my father's life.
- But why? - I don't want to discuss it.
My decision is final.
I've taken legal advice, and if you ever go near my father again,
I will call the police and get a restraining order.
But I don't understand, what have I done wrong?
You've been ingratiating yourself with my father ever since you moved in.
That's my job.
Telling him how great he is, how he's still fit to be seen in public.
- The award? - Exactly.
It was like a dying request. How could I refuse?
You put it in his head.
I'm sure Dorottya means well, Sophia.
But I must say, we're really very disappointed in you, Dorottya.
You know better than anyone what could happen to him on stage.
What if his bladder were to give way? Or his bowels?
Alastair, please.
- Didn't you ever stop to consider that? - Of course I did.
But when I saw how much he wanted it,
I thought it was worth the risk.
Worth the risk?
Of a great actor being remembered for a catastrophic last performance?
There's nothing the world loves more than a car crash.
Milly has already packed your things, and Joseph has them in the car outside.
He'll take you back to the nursing home.
This is what we owe you. And one week extra.
And remember your confidentiality agreement.
If you go to the press I will sue you for everything you've got.
- Everything I've got? - This and the two suitcases in the car.
Well, good luck with that.
- You think I was wrong, don't you? - No.
You did what you thought was right. I did what he wanted.
We both know, he'd never have got through it.
So you think he should just get used to dying?
After a certain age, that's what life is.
Getting used to things.
Not for him.
- Well, what is it? - Daddy, we have to talk.
Where's Dorottya?
She should have been back from the village hours ago.
That's what we've come to talk about.
Dorottya's gone.
- What do you mean, gone? - I've sacked her.
What?
What fucking right had you to do such a thing?
What right? May I remind you, I was the one who hired her.
And may I remind you,
this is my house!
And in my house, even in my fucking garden,
I make the decisions. Me.
- If I may just... - Alastair, not now.
You don't realize. Dorottya is not what she seems.
She is thoroughly untrustable. "Detested kite! Thou liest!
"My train are men of choice and rarest parts
"That all particulars of duty know.
"O, Lear.
"Lear!"
Really, Daddy. You're not helping matters by...
"Lear!
"Hear, Nature, hear,
"dear goddess, hear!
"Suspend thy purpose
"if thou didst intend to make this creature fruitful!
"Into her womb convey sterility.
"Dry up in her the organs of increase,
"And from her derogate body never spring
"A babe to honor her.
"If she must teem, create her child of spleen,
"that it may live to be a thwart disnatured torment to her!
"That she may feel how sharper than a serpent's tooth it is
"to have a thankless child."
Thank God you're here. He's still unconscious.
Joseph! Where the hell has he gone to?
Joseph, please stop the car. I'll just get out here.
Are you going to be all right, miss?
Yes.
You're not sure, are you?
Where would you like to go, miss?
Of course, his blood pressure was already very high
and he'd worked himself up into quite a state.
Based upon his bloods, I think we can rule out a TIA.
Parkinson's is a complicating factor, of course.
- Yeah. - But he's stable now, under sedation.
- You gave him propofol? - Only a low dose.
By the way, I must ask, is there any living will just in case?
What did you just say?
God...
I still don't understand.
The old man didn't have a word about the bitch kicking you out?
Well, apparently not.
I mean, he hasn't called, he hasn't texted me.
Obviously, he doesn't want me back.
- He sounds like your boyfriend. - No.
- Call him! - No, I am not going to call him.
- Call him. - No.
Hello.
I usually do my own makeup.
Good morning.
Just a little glycerin for your lips.
Good morning.
Oh! Good God, there's two of them.
You know, you really don't need your monitor.
We can hear your snoring from the other end of the ward.
Where's my gizmo?
Your mobile?
Ah!
You dropped it.
Don't worry, it didn't break or anything,
but I've put it in the nurses' room to recharge it.
You're welcome to borrow mine.
Unfortunately, the number I want is in the phone's memory, not mine.
Well, they are bound to ask you for another girl.
Maybe when she leaves I could take her place here?
I'm afraid Sir Michael doesn't need anyone for the time being.
But even if he is allowed to go back home,
they'll no longer be requiring the services of any of our girls.
Wait, wait, wait.
What do you mean by "allowed to go back home"?
He's in hospital.
Sir Michael had a heart attack.
Do you have any numbers of hospitals nearby?
They won't help you. Not unless you are family.
Yes, hello. This is Allison Morley speaking.
Hello. I'm sorry, I can't hear you very well.
I'm on a satellite phone from Cambodia. I can't hear you.
Hello?
Hello? Hello?
I'm trying to locate my grandfather, Sir Michael Gifford.
Is he there?
Thank you very much.
Milly.
Milly. Milly.
Milly, where the hell are you?
"No harm. I have done nothing but care of thee,
"Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter."
I've had heart attacks on film, on stage, once on Radio 4.
But never any as realistic as this.
You scared the hell out of Sophia and me.
Milly, please don't start again.
I have apologized. I am profoundly sorry.
And I'm sorry, too.
It was a foolish idea to suggest that
you should come to the ceremony in the first place.
Foolish or selfish? Stop fucking quarrelling.
I have decided to go.
I have decided, period. But you're not up to it.
The show must go on.
Oh! Another one of those wonderful lines I have always wanted to say.
"The show must go on."
It's the most idiotic thing I've ever heard.
After all the years with me, Milly? It's just one of many.
But, Michael, you've had hundreds of awards.
Twenty three. But who's counting?
That's what I mean. Why would you want to
jeopardize everything for just one more?
Because, my dear Milly,
this is the last one.
The last one.
There are two important ones in a man's life, the first and the last.
Mmm...
And I don't just mean awards.
For God's sake, Michael, be serious, just for one moment.
Are you certain that you're up to it?
Oh, wonderful, wonderful, wonderful day.
I've never been more certain of anything in my life.
Help me. Please, Milly.
Of course I will.
Thank you.
And we mustn't tell Sophia. She'd only try and stop me.
And she'd be right.
And now, my darling,
I'd like to have a word with this young lady in private.
All right.
All right, but don't...
Fine.
I want you to go with me to the ceremony.
You don't need me.
Milly should go. Oh, yes. Yes, of course.
But I need you, too.
All right. But first we have to make sure
that you can manage a performance without crapping yourself.
Mmm!
And how do we do that?
The day after tomorrow,
come to the care home and give them a recital.
They've all got Alzheimer's.
So what?
They'll say they've never seen anything like this before.
And if I shit myself?
I really think they're used to that.
- What's this? - It's a car.
Really?
The steering is on the wrong side.
No, it's actually on the right side.
Which happens to be the left.
You old bastard.
How the hell did you end up here in the Garden of England?
You didn't tell me about him.
Because I didn't know that you knew each other.
What a time. What a time.
It's time to go. Okay. On with the motley.
What is going on here?
Dorottya! I thought I told you...
You must be the admirable Mrs. Trudeau.
I am. And who...
Oh!
Sir Michael Gifford at your disposal, ma'am.
I thought you were ill. Quite so.
Quite so, but this young lady has miraculously revived me.
Well, that is excellent.
She has also persuaded me that the residents of your home will offer
the best possible audience for what is likely to prove my farewell
and final performance as King Lear.
By all means, Sir Michael.
This is a great privilege.
Indeed it is.
How does my royal Lord? How fares your Majesty?
You do me wrong to take me out o' the grave.
Thou art a soul in bliss,
but I am bound upon a wheel of fire,
that mine own tears do scald like molten lead.
Sir, do you know me?
You are a spirit, I know.
When did you die?
Still, still far wide!
Where have I been?
Where am I?
Fair daylight?
Oh, I am mightily abused.
I should even die with pity to see another thus.
O, look upon me, sir,
and hold your hands in benediction o'er me.
No, sir, you must not kneel.
I pray, do not mock me.
I am a very foolish fond old man,
fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor less.
And to deal plainly with you
I fear I am not in my perfect mind.
Your sisters have, as I do remember, done me wrong.
You have some cause
they have not.
No cause.
They rang from the academy to ask if I was really tutoring you.
I didn't say anything. I... I said I was.
Thank you.
But I'm not really sure that I still want it.
You know, I think maybe it has been enough to have acted with you.
To have played the good girl.
It was almost as if my father had forgiven me.
Was he the one who directed the Hamlet?
Yes.
- Where'd you get these? - From the care home.
Mustard would have been nice.
Why did you need him to forgive you?
People think I lie all the time.
But I've only told one lie.
Which was...
I told people I did things for my father when he was sick that I hadn't.
Life's like that.
Great deeds, if you're lucky.
And mistakes that make your toes curl with embarrassment.
Now.
You must forgive yourself, and move on,
do better the next time.
Your father was right.
Acting isn't what we do, it's what we are.
Now, Dorottya,
I'm sure your father would be very proud of you.
That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me.
Well, I always say, "If the part demands it,
"the setting is perfect, and the lighting superb,
"I can fake it."
And now, live from London, the Critics' Guild Annual Awards.
My father's very sorry not to be here in person tonight,
but he is thrilled to be getting this award
and sends his very best wishes to everyone at the Guild.
Thank you.
You know, I once met Adolph Zukor,
the founder of Paramount Pictures.
And a Hungarian.
Don't fucking interrupt with all that Hungarian crap!
It was just before his 100th birthday, and he said...
"If I had known that I was going to live this long,
"I would have taken better care of myself."
Oh, I'm sorry. Was that for your speech?
It doesn't matter.
Your reply came from the Academy.
It's over there, in the jacket of my pocket.
Jacket pocket.
Okay. Later.
- Don't you care? - Of course, I do.
But this is your night.
Let's get you dressed.
There will be no nappy.
Tonight I perform without a net.
You look a bit pale. Are you okay?
Yes, I'm okay. Don't keep asking.
- Tell her, Joseph. - Tell her what, sir?
Tell her that I'm always like this before I go on.
It's true. Sir Michael's been a martyr to stage fright.
The famous Michael Gifford look
comes from the fact I simply can't face the bastards.
I walk on, I can't see a thing for the bloody lights.
A trick of the trade, Dorottya,
is to let your disadvantages work for you.
But, you know, all the years I've known you,
you never once dried up on stage.
It's not drying I'm scared of, it's wetting.
Ladies and gentlemen.
Tonight the Critics' Guild of Great Britain is gathered to celebrate
a giant of film, television, and above all, theater.
Sir Michael Gifford.
Oh! Ah...
So many memories.
You know, Joseph,
Alzheimer's really should be the province of the young.
They have nothing to remember.
How the fuck do they manage?
I really couldn't say, sir. But, you know...
Yes. When we were young,
we seemed to manage quite well.
Ah!
Ammunition.
All right.
The young. Screw them.
And the begrudges, sir.
To begin the proceedings, we have
a special tribute tonight from a distinguished fellow actor,
one of our greatest movie stars.
Welcome, please, Sir Roger Moore.
Welcome to my mountain retreat.
My name is Moore. Roger Moore.
And I've come down from the mountain top
to congratulate my old friend, Michael, on yet another award.
Some years ago Michael and I were making
a dreadful piece of garbage in the jungle
calle The Saddest Lion.
And in it...
I've always meant to thank you, Joseph,
for all the kindness you've shown to me over the years.
You really don't have to, sir. It's been an honor.
You're such a starfucker, Joseph.
I bet when you get to heaven, you're gonna ask God for His autograph.
I believe you've said that to me before, sir.
At my age, Joseph,
everything I say, I've said before.
...and we got to talking about the so called good old days,
and I mentioned The Saddest Lion.
And Michael looked at me blankly.
And he said, "You mean, Villa in Antibes."
No. This wasn't him. That was Father's story about Larry.
It doesn't matter, Michael would love this.
All of a sudden, Michael burst into a great big grin.
"The Saddest Lion, I call A Villa in Antibes
"because that's what it paid for."
Michael, congratulations, my old mate.
Ladies and gentlemen.
Sadly, Sir Michael Gifford is unable to be present in person tonight.
But it gives me great pleasure to
introduce his beautiful daughter, Sophia,
who will receive the award on his behalf.
Thank you, Bernard.
Thank you, Critics' Guild, and thank you all.
My father taught me to give the very best to every endeavor I undertook.
It's time.
Oh God.
Two minutes.
...but I have no doubt now that he contributed enormously to my success.
And as I grow older... Joseph.
...I come to understand the love behind everything he asked of me.
I also understand a little better how much he's done for other people.
I'll give you the nod.
For all of the young writers, actors,
and directors he has worked with over the years.
He had a glass of champagne. Oh God.
So I'd like to think that this Lifetime Achievement Award
is not just for my father's performances,
but for the achievements of his life.
There we are, sir.
Generosity to young talent is the true spirit of my father's work.
So tonight, I can announce a donation from my own resources,
of one million pounds to the Sir Michael Gifford Theater Trust
to ensure the continuation of a cause close to my father's heart.
Well, ladies and gentlemen,
completely contrary to our expectations,
I have a last surprise to announce.
Milly, come on.
It gives me great pleasure...
I haven't missed an entrance in my life and I don't want to start now.
...to present the recipient of tonight's Lifetime Achievement Award,
my father, Sir Michael Gifford.
I must say, my dear, even under these unforgiving lights,
your golden delicious look quite magnificent.
Michael!
Got you.
Only joking. But it shut you up, didn't it?
Now, sit down, sit down, sit down.
One of us should be sitting quietly,
and it's certainly not going to be me.
If you had given me this thing a few years ago,
I would have bounded heroically onto the stage to receive it.
They say that youth is wasted on the young.
Well, awards are surely wasted on the old.
I mean, it's always gonna be a toss-up,
which would've made the mantelpiece first.
This or my ashes.
Oh, don't worry. I've died on stage many times.
Sometimes it was even in the script.
But I am not going to die up here tonight.
Now, did I hear my daughter right?
A million pounds?
Wow.
And I can hardly get her to buy me a drink.
No, no, no, it's not true.
It's not true.
My daughter's quite a remarkable woman.
You know,
I had a little success a few years ago playing King Lear.
And like him, oh, dear,
so much like him,
I have misjudged my daughter.
But no more, Sophia, no more.
I am extremely proud of you.
Please, come forward.
Okay, that's enough. It's my night.
And I fully intend milking it for all it's worth.
Thank you, ladies.
Like many actors I've often dreamed of what I'd say on such an occasion.
You know, perhaps obsequiously thanking everybody.
From the lady who cleans the toilet
to the kindergarten graduates who call themselves producers.
Even pointing out the vindictive critic
who gave me the worst review of my life,
and there he was a minute ago,
faking his admiration with the best of them.
But enough. Enough.
If revenge is a dish best served cold,
I've lost my appetite.
It seems to me now
that I have been living a lie.
Staying out of the public view,
hiding my condition.
But then, look around you.
How many of us here deny the human condition,
in one form or another?
We get old.
That's the truth.
And how can you tell true stories about the human condition if you deny it,
or choose only the good bits?
Youth and beauty, passion and sex.
We all come to this, you know, if we're very lucky.
There's no truth in cosmetic enhancement, you know,
no candor in collagen.
Besides, which face would you have lifted?
What a ship of plastic fools.
Incontinent, botoxed, nipped,
tucked, liposucked, studded with diamonds,
sailing into the sunset.
"Cowards die many times before their deaths.
"The valiant never taste of death but once.
"Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,
"It seems to me most strange that men should fear,
"Seeing that death, a necessary end,
"Will come
"when it will come."
Oh, come on. It's not my funeral. Not yet.
Although from all the bollocks you heard this evening,
you could be excused for thinking it was.
But there's something else, though.
Something I've wanted to do all my life.
"To be...
"To be..."
"Or not to be."
"To be..." "Or not to be."
And that really is the question.
And the answer is,
to unashamedly,
unrepentantly, aggressively,
joyously, bloody well... be!
Thank you, good night.