Come on!
Yes! Over the top!
Hold on.
Pass, Mou Mou! Pass, Mou Mou!
-Referee!
Foul!
Goal! Brit Army 3, Locals 2!
Terrible. Come on.
On your feet.
Bunch of thieves.
-How are you faring, my dear? -Rather hot, isn't it?
-I do hope they're on time. -Yes.
-Thank you. -All right?
Thank you, Sydney.
Ready, my dear?
Thank you, darling.
-Bringing them from Scotland? -Yes.
Hi, beautiful. I've missed you.
Careful.
You're wasting your time.
My sister's way out of your league.
Then why does she keep looking at me?
Coca-Cola!
Because she's wondering
where that stink of fish market is coming from.
You're lucky she's here or I would hit you.
What's your name?
Mohamed Fayed.
How many bottles do you sell each day?
Fifty.
On a good day sixty.
We are the best salesmen in Alexandria.
Coca-Cola! Coca-Cola! Come closer!
What if
I buy you a thousand bottles.
We split the profits.
-Seventy-thirty. In my favor.
Why don't you take the whole thing for free?
Ice-cold soda!
Come have a drink! Coca-Cola!
All right.
Fifty-fifty.
When I first saw you, I knew you were an intelligent man.
-Who's that? -Some king from England.
We saw a king today.
The British king. Edward.
That's not the king.
It's the former king who gave up the throne
for his American sharmoota,
Wallis Simpson.
She waved at Mohamed.
And did she cast a spell on you?
No.
Let me tell you about the British.
Since 1882, they have occupied us. Dominated us.
Made a mockery of our laws.
Trampled on our freedoms. Our dignity.
But I don't save my greatest contempt for them.
My greatest contempt
is for the Egyptians who look up to the British as gods.
Strong words
from a weak man.
A petty school inspector
whose ambition stretches no further than the end of his nose.
He curses the British.
But does he have the vision to match them?
I want to match them. I want to be like them.
Have power like them.
And if we look up to their kings and queens as gods,
it's because they are.
Thank you, Sydney.
I've grown rather fond of him.
-Who? -Sydney.
When I first engaged him, I had my doubts.
I thought his presence might serve as an unwelcome reminder
of our time in the Bahamas.
Our exile from England. Our banishment from home.
Come on. You loved every minute of being governor.
I loved the climate. Not the job.
A cocked hat covered in swans' feathers
is hardly the same thing as wearing a crown.
But, uh, I'm impressed by his work.
And if you're agreeable,
I am going to ask our Bahamian friend if he, uh…
he wants the job on a permanent basis.
Fine by me, darling.
Sydney.
The duchess and I were wondering whether you would, uh, consider
joining our… little family on a more permanent basis.
Truly, you are a gift from God.
I promise I will be the greatest of fathers.
Then together,
we will survey the world we have conquered.
Together.
Father and son.
Together.
Always.
Your name will be…
Emad El-Din Mohamed Abdel Mena'em Fayed.
But I'll call you…
Dodi.
Have you met my father before?
No.
I have not had the pleasure.
My son.
I'm happy to see you.
Me too, Dad.
This way please, gentlemen.
Madame la Presidente, we will now hear the final bid
from the Fayed family.
Monsieur Fayed, welcome.
Have I addressed you correctly? Fayed?
Al Fayed.
I ask because there seems to be a great deal of mystery surrounding you.
One day, I hear you are Saudi.
The next, a Kuwaiti--
The Al Fayed family comes from Egypt.
The cradle of civilization.
I heard that you and your brothers have no history of hotel ownership.
Nor property development.
And that there is even a bounty on your head
from your time in Haiti as a commission agent.
Please, madam, do not listen to idle rumors,
and concentrate on our offer.
$18.6 million.
Significantly higher than any of our rivals.
Yes, but their money is guaranteed.
By contrast, we hear stories of you going from bank to bank
in London and Switzerland,
forgive me,
begging for money.
And each of these banks refusing because… they know of your reputation.
Madame Ritz.
Um…
I must confess my disappointment.
I came here hoping to be treated on merit.
What is it that I must do?
I come with the guarantees of Lazard's bank…
…with more money than anyone else…
…to rescue a hotel…
…that can no longer rely on her reputation or beauty…
…whose customers are deserting her in droves.
I come to rescue the great Ritz.
Because she is magnificent.
And I love her.
I want to make her once again…
…the greatest hotel in the world.
And in return…
…we are treated with contempt and discrimination.
You had the opportunity to have him as an ally.
I'm sorry you chose not to take it.
Thank you.
Wait, Mr. Al Fayed.
Wait.
Congratulations, Mr. Al Fayed.
Thank you, madam.
Who is that?!
-Heini!
Her name is Heini.
She's from Finland.
The most perfect creature I've ever seen.
And who is that?
That's Jacques Chirac. Mayor of Paris.
Not the mayor.
Him!
Get him out of here.
I'm trying to rebuild the reputation of the Ritz,
not ruin it on opening night!
I don't want to see him in here again.
I did what you asked. He's gone.
It's a pity though, I liked him.
His name was Sydney Johnson.
It wasn't his name that bothered me.
He was an interesting guy.
Personal valet to Edward VIII.
The former King of England.
For thirty years.
Mr. Johnson, come in. Please.
Is it really true you used to work for the King of England?
I worked for His Royal Highness the Duke of Windsor
after he abdicated the throne as King Edward VIII, yes.
You know the duke visited Alexandria once.
That was my first overseas trip with His Royal Highness,
and then he asked me to join him permanently
and brought me here with him to Paris.
As his valet?
Yes, sir.
The Valet of the King!
-Sir? -It's an Egyptian thing, no matter.
So, tell me, what did your job entail?
What did you do for him?
Everything.
I took care of every aspect of his life
from the moment he opened his eyes in the morning
to the moment he closed them at night.
And how did someone, forgive me,
of your background know what the former King of England might need?
I didn't.
His Royal Highness taught me everything,
with great patience and kindness.
Then, will you teach me?
In which capacity?
As my personal valet.
British society is the finest in the world.
British manners and customs rule the world.
With your help, I will become that rare thing,
a British gentleman.
Now, there are a dozen writers you have to read
if you are ever to understand the English.
PG Wodehouse.
Rudyard Kipling.
PG Wodehouse.
Rudyard Kipling.
Charles Dickens.
The Shooting Diaries of Colonel Peter Hawker.
Afternoon tea is not a task to hurry through, Mr. Mohamed,
but a ritual to be savored.
Ah-ah-ah.
You'll be in the doghouse if the duchess catches you pouring tea like that.
For the city, a simple dinner jacket, midnight blue, never black.
For the country, jeans and shirts. Freedom and ease.
Corduroys and checks for golf.
A cerise baseball cap and always…
…wherever you are…
socks.
Rolled down every morning, ready to slip on.
As for recreation, to have your own shoot is important.
The English are fundamentally a bloodthirsty breed, but golf,
now, that is a game I am truly passionate about.
Passionate, just not very talented.
Captain of ten golf clubs.
Sydney!
He learned his swing from the great champion, Percy Boomer.
How do you do?
Three-time winner on tour,
author of several books,
and the greatest teacher in all Europe.
Percy sorted out a kink in my back swing with the help of stop-action photography.
Of course, the true sport of kings is polo,
where connections and friendships are made that will last a lifetime.
Which is why Dodi is already a passionate polo player.
Passionate, just not very talented.
Everything in British society begins and ends with the royal family.
If you are seen in their company, if you are known and trusted by them,
then all doors will open everywhere else.
I've taken the liberty of having the jacket cut with a high waist,
just as the duke used to,
to give a slightly longer leg.
The duke felt it gave him more stature in photographs.
Thank you, Sydney.
Very handsome, sir.
Trained in Berkshire,
Lindenburg comes from a long line of dressage medalists
and is hoping to live up that reputation.
-It's very clever. -Oh yes.
Hi.
-May we see your ID? -Oh?
-What? But I have the member's ticket. -We need to see your ID.
Mr. Al Fayed is a new member.
Okay.
-Would you mind, out of the way, sir? -Yeah.
-Some gentlemen want to come through. -Thank you.
Thank you.
You can't enter unless you're a member, I'm afraid.
-Oh. -Thank you.
I paid a fortune for these tickets.
They told me I would be close to the Queen.
Who is there?
Mr. Tiny Rowland.
Harrods' largest shareholder and sponsor of this event.
Sitting next to the Queen is his privilege.
Good night, darling.
Say good night to Papa.
Oh, my love.
Hey. Night.
Night.
Good night, my beautiful son.
You want us to buy a shop?
Harrods is much more than a shop.
Sydney.
Harrods is part of the national soul
and the very fabric of what it is to be British.
Owning Harrods is like owning the Tower of London or Westminster Abbey.
It's the most famous department store in the world.
Owning it will give us access and power and legitimacy.
We would be at the heart of British society.
The royals themselves are customers.
Passports and citizenship of the United Kingdom
will surely follow.
How much?
Six hundred million pounds.
I hope that still leaves enough for me to do what I want.
-Which is? -To set up a production fund to finance--
Finance what?
Motion pictures.
I've found the perfect partners.
The best people with world-class talent and connections.
And what do you have?
What do you mean?
They have talent and expertise.
What do you have?
Money.
I have money.
What do you have?
That's not fair.
I have ideas.
-I have instincts, and I have a right!
What right?
A right
to explore my own business ideas, not just yours!
You want me to stand on my own two feet and make you proud.
Then why, as soon as I try,
do you cut my legs off?!
Cut!
So, this is a movie set?
Where are the girls?
The story's not about girls.
-It's about a young Jewish man-- -A Jew?
Couldn't you make a film about something else?
…who overcomes racial and establishment prejudice,
runs the 100 meters in the 1924 Olympics…
…and wins gold.
Really? That's a movie?
It's an inspirational story.
Where the outsider… ends up becoming an insider.
Mmm.
I like the sound of that.
The next… is Raiders of the Lost Ark.
It's a Lucasfilm production of Paramount,
Frank Marshall, producer.
The next is Chariots of Fire,
Enigma Production Limited,
the Ladd Company, Warner Bros,
David Puttnam, producer.
And the last, the fifth nominee, Reds,
a JRS Productions, Paramount,
Warren Beatty, producer.
Ladies and gentlemen, the winner is…
-…Chariots of Fire!
We won! We won! We won! We won! We won!
We won. We won. We won! We won!
I won! We won!
We won! We won!
-We…
Just for 30 seconds, I wish I was Bette Midler.
Um…
I'd have to thank… Well, I don't know where to start.
It starts with my good friend Sandy Lieberson,
who made it possible in the first place, everybody at 20th Century Fox,
Mohamed and Dodi Fayed who came through for us
and put their money where my mouth was.
Thank you very, very much.
-What's the matter?
We have an Oscar,
we have Harrods,
and you look miserable.
Why?
I'm sorry, sir.
I just received news.
The Duchess of Windsor…
She died this morning.
Three months before her 90th birthday.
Heart failure.
She'd been confined in the house for eight years.
Crippled by arthritis.
Suffering from mental derangement.
Mostly being fed through a tube.
She's at peace now,
and will be buried at Frogmore,
next to His Royal Highness.
Sit down.
It was such a beautiful house.
Filled with so much love.
But after the duke died, it was neglected.
And in the end,
like the duchess herself,
fell into ruin.
So sad.
Rain getting in through the ceilings.
Walls black with soot.
Priceless furniture, ruined.
And there was so much happiness here.
What is this?
Catalog numbers.
All the duke and duchess' possessions,
her jewelry, his clothes,
his bureau, which contained papers of great sensitivity,
including his diaries,
is due to be put up for auction.
It doesn't go back to the royal family?
No, sir.
The fate of the house and its possessions
is now in the hands of the French authorities.
When I saw the state the villa was in,
I said, "Money is no object."
Restoring it will be my honor and pleasure.
A former King of England lived here.
It has historical significance.
No matter the cost,
it will be my gift to the British royal family.
It appears the renovation took three years
and cost a great deal of money.
And now Mr. Al Fayed has invited you to pay the renovated property,
which he has renamed Villa Windsor…
…a visit.
Don't you dare.
If it was controversial for me to visit when my uncle was alive,
I'd say there's even less reason when he's dead.
That was our thinking too.
But it seems there are… all manner of valuable possessions
at Villa Windsor,
which we feel it would be important for the Crown to have back.
Such as?
A Dutch old master painting, The Baby Prince.
That belongs to the Royal Collection.
The duke's Garter banner.
That should be returned to the Royal Collection.
Queen Mary's pearls.
They belong to….?
Me.
But perhaps most importantly, the Duke of Windsor's desk,
containing correspondence from the time of the abdication
and the duke's diaries.
His Royal Highness was never one to restrain his pen.
And material relating to his wartime stay in neutral Spain and Portugal,
where he and the duchess were frequently in the company of Nazis,
who hoped to install him as a possible puppet king--
Yes, thank you, Robert. That's, um…
That's enough.
How do we best solve this?
-A visit? -Yes, that's correct.
I would be most honored.
When?
Yes. Yes.
Wonderful.
Yes, thank you.
We look forward to it.
The Queen's private secretary.
I always said she would come.
The mountain is really… moving to Mohamed.
Where's Dodi?
Tell him to come.
Mr. Al Fayed.
I am here on behalf of Her Majesty.
A great honor, sir.
Abdication desk.
Chair.
The coronet of the Prince of Wales.
Garter banner.
Baby Prince.
The duke's diaries and photographs?
And letters and papers?
If you want to make the Queen very happy indeed,
you'll let her have those back.
If I may say so…
whatever thoughts you might be thinking,
I imagine they're no different
from the thoughts the duke had about the royal family
almost every day he was alive.
What are you talking about?
Mohamed Al Fayed just made the Queen of England very happy indeed.
We have the final line-up of show jumping…
That's very good.
Who is that?
Mr. Al Fayed, the owner of Harrods.
And of Villa Windsor in Paris.
Oh, yes.
I suppose I'd better sit with him this time.
Might be nice.
And, as the official sponsor today, he will have that expectation.
-Well, hello, you. -Hello, you.
Oh, and Porchie too.
Oh!
Porchie…
Well, in that case…
can I…
leave that with you?
Ma'am.
Thank you.
I'm afraid you've got me.
Your Royal Highness.
I realize I'm no substitute for the Big Chief.
Oh, a lovely Harrods cushion.
Ooh, and look, a gift bag.
Special gifts for the Boss Lady?
Ah, not that it gets me anywhere.
Boss Lady seems allergic to me.
-Well, that makes two of us. -Surely not.
Can barely bring herself to look at me, which is why I'm here today.
Try and get back in her good books.
She's making me work for it.
Diana.
Mohamed. But you must call me Mou Mou.
Why must I call you Mou Mou?
All my friends do.
Gosh, we're friends already?
-That was quick. -Too quick?
Mmm… Maybe a little too quick.
I'm great friends with your father, Lord Spencer.
-Yes, I know. -And Lady Raine.
My wicked stepmother.
-Do you know her nickname? -No.
Acid Raine.
What about your nickname? Mou Mou.
Did you make that up?
You look like someone who might make up a nickname to sound cool.
No.
It came from my father.
And what was his name?
Ali Ali.
-Ali Ali? -Yes.
Does everyone in your family say things twice-twice?
No, no.
-I bet they do-do, Mou Mou. -Stop it!
I know. We have to be serious. There's royalty here.
Oh yeah. Somewhere.
-Not anywhere near you though.
No matter how much you pay to grovel.
-Have you paid a lot? -A fortune.
Are you even interested in horses?
Not remotely.
No, me neither.
Oh, now he comes.
-May I present my son, Dodi? -Your Royal Highness.
Dodi Dodi? Or just Dodi?
-What? -It's a joke, joke.
-It's funny, funny.
I see.
-Will you join us? -Uh, I can't.
I'm… I'm with friends.
Pleasure meeting you.
Now, let's see what's in the Queen's gift bag.
Mmm.
A watch?
An expensive watch.
You little creep.
A silver pen?
That seems to have worked out well.
I was worried I'd been rude, but as it turns out…
-A match made in heaven. -Quite.
Can I have that?
Out of the acorn of a simple kindness…
What about these?
…an oak tree of happiness will grow.
-What is it? -I don't know.