Hey, driver! Oh!
- Happy Easter, Excellency. - What is it you want, Stepan?
Could you drive to the Kasbek and ask General Bounine to come here immediately?
Isn't it too late for the Church to save that master of yours?
- Twenty-five francs? - No. Ten.
On Easter night? Twenty.
- Fifteen, Excellency. - All right, Stepan.
- Happy Easter to you. - Please. Hurry.
- Leave it to me. - It's very urgent. Please.
Look, Bob. Don't you adore Russian food?
Faster! Faster!
Faster! General...
- I'm just mad for your place. - It's always a pleasure to see you here, madame.
General Bounine, my husband.
Excuse me, General. The Count Beresoff is waiting outside in his taxi.
- He has a message for you. - From Stepan?
- Yes. He says it is urgent. - I'll be right out.
Will you forgive me for just a moment?
- Is she here? - Yes, sir.
- Where? - Over there. By the tree.
- Are you sure? - Yes, Excellency.
All right. Wait here.
Happy Easter. Happy Easter, Anna Koreff.
It is Anna Koreff. Or at least, so you were called in the asylum at St. Cloud.
- You see the resemblance? - No more than 100 women might have.
There is nothing to fear, I promise you.
- Why do you always run away? - Always questions. I've lost the answers.
Perhaps if you hadn't told the nun who you were, there wouldn't be any questions.
- Who am I? - Grand Duchess Anastasia, I believe.
In an asylum, a nun might be mad.
- It's contagious. - Then you do admit that you were in that asylum, don't you?
Stepan, are you positive she is the same woman you saw in St. Cloud?
- Yes, sir. - Come on.
Let me go, please! Let me go!
The General said to wait for him at the usual place.
Wait! How do you like that? The nerve of that Bounine.
- Didn't he leave us a message? - Yes. He said he'd be back shortly.
Late! Always late.
- Petrovin, the hour has arrived for me to tell... - I know.
You only tell me what you're going to tell Bounine.
Still, be happy now. In one week, you shall be telling it in prison.
Petrovin, I forbid that word.
- I didn't hear it. - It's the logical end to what was always a ridiculous scheme.
Ridiculous scheme, huh? But your eyes lit up like those of a mad monk...
when you heard our tsar's daughter might be alive.
- That was ridiculous. - And yours lit up...
when you heard he had a 10 million inheritance.
- Equally ridiculous. - Not equally.
The 10 million lie waiting in the Bank of England.
But the Grand Duchess Anastasia Nicolaevna lies buried in Russia.
- Vodka? - No, thank you. My digestion has been shocking...
ever since Bounine decided to form our corporation.
Bounine decided? The idea was mine!
My years of banking experience are for nothing, huh?
I devised the method of selling shares to stockholders...
to pay for the search for their beloved grand duchess.
I worked out the ratio of so many shares in her inheritance...
to so many shares of our stock.
- And my advice... - I know! Bounine was nothing.
Bounine was nothing...
Good evening, comrades.
If the term doesn't grate on your White Russian ears.
- Huh? Oh, I'm sorry. I... - Excuse me.
- The meeting is called to order. - "Called to order."Just like that?
May we have the financial report, please?
- The financial... - Yes, the financial report.
- There's another report, General. - All in due time, Petrovin. Go ahead, Chernov.
As of today, our treasury shows assets...
of, uh, here... exactly 5,250 francs.
That new suit looks very well on you, Chernov.
Am I wrong, or were there not some 9,000- odd francs at our last meeting?
My dear general, may I ask you...
May I ask you what paid for this club of yours?
15,000 francs from the stockholders, that's what!
- We live in one room, Petrovin and I... - Two.
- We share the bedroom. - This is not a meeting on your housing problem.
- Proceed with the accounts. - Housing problem, hmph!
Umm, 275 francs to Natalya Yakovski...
formerly dressmaker to the Imperial family.
Paid for the information received on clothes and measurements.
- I see you have made good use of the information. - I drew it myself.
- Those are her exact measurements. - The crown is a nice touch.
Yeah. A face would be a better one.
It's all too late now! We're facing disaster.
As a son of the former deacon to His Majesty's court, you should have more faith.
I wish my poor father, bless his soul, had had less.
All right, Chernov, please. Give him the news.
I would rather have his first.
- Mine? - I know that smile.
I'll bet you have another of your brilliant surprises for us.
- Never mind. What happened, Petrovin? - Chernov was called...
I was summoned by the stockholder's committee.
- Oh, how kind of them. - Kind, huh?
Old General Anikin came straight to the point.
"Years ago," he said, "rumors started that the Grand Duchess Anastasia Nicolaevna...
"daughter of His Imperial Majesty Nicholas II...
"had not been murdered with the rest of the royal family...
"but had escaped miraculously.
"Ayear ago," he went on, "you and your friends came to us with the claim...
"you knew Her Highness was somewhere in Berlin.
Then you said you found her, but she ran away."
Was it then we thought of using the redhead?
- No, no, the one who was always giggling. - Ah yes, the redhead came later.
- Go ahead. - "Then," he said, "you needed more money to find her.
"Again we subscribed. Then you said you found her, but she was too sick.
- More money." - Too sick?
- Oh, that was Galina. Too stupid. - "How long can she be sick, Chernov?
How much money can you drain from our thin pockets, Chernov?"
- How much have they got, Chernov? - The joke is on us, General.
- They give us exactly eight days. - Eight days for what?
Eight days to produce Her Highness, the Grand Duchess Anastasia.
- Or we go to prison for fraud. - For fraud!
- Well, it has taken them long enough. - Is that all you can say?
It really sickens me how you let him make you suffer...
how you like to suffer... and you delight in making him suffer.
Not particularly. I merely thought it advisable...
to determine exactly what our situation was...
- before suggesting how to deal with it. - What did I tell you?
All right, General. Let's have your surprise. Where is she?
- Where is who? - The woman Stepan saw in the asylum in St. Cloud!
Correct. We have finally tracked her down.
- Really? - No!
- Of course, she does not admit that she was there. - No.
- Really? - Nor does she admit that she told a nun there...
- that she was the tsar's daughter. - What does she admit?
- Nothing. I think she may be lying. - Then why do you believe...
But the important thing is that properly used, she may serve our purpose.
- How? - She has certain surprising features.
- Such as? - You will see.
She also has a rather intriguing strangeness.
Of course, that may be simply the result of amnesia.
Him and his surprises. If he were looking for a grand duke...
- he wouldn't find so many. - Stepan!
Bring her in.
- Come over here.
Don't worry. These two gentlemen are friends.
Here. Sit down.
How about a glass of vodka? It'll do you good.
Thank you.
There's nothing to fear. They merely want to examine you.
Examine? Are they doctors?
- They don't help. - Doctors? No.
- They are not doctors. - No, no. We should have kept the redhead.
The tsar's daughter drinks like a cossack.
- May I have a cigarette? - Sure. Here.
- Where am I? - I told you. With friends.
- Strange. - What?
- The resemblance to the other. - Yes. Both female.
Have you gentlemen considered what she went through?
The streets, probably. I can imagine her walk.
- Stand up. - What did you say?
Ho, ho, ho! I said, "Stand up."
We would like to see you walk over to there, if you please.
Mm, no. At least with the redhead, we could have dyed her hair.
But a walk? The grand duchesses learned with books on their heads.
- You could recognize them by their carriage alone.
Oh. Stone walls.
What's she talking about? - Chernov?
That bookkeeper who nearly ruined you twelve years ago in the forgery affair...
Would you recognize his walk today?
Would you recognize the smile of a girl you knew ten years ago?
- I didn't think of that. - You are both fools.
You're examining her as if she was the real Anastasia.
There is no Anastasia.
She was shot to death ten years ago by a firing squad.
We're not looking for her, gentlemen.
We're seeking only a reasonable facsimile.
Reasonable, yes. But that is unreasonable.
Please. Let's be constructive. - What will the committee say?
- Most of them have seen the original. - How?
At a court ball, from a balcony?
In church, by candlelight, flickering shadows?
Yes, you saw her. Many saw her. From a distance.
- Or in the newspapers. - What about the servants? Some of them are here in exile.
They saw her through devoted tears, and they will again.
- All right, and the family... - The family? If it was the immediate family...
I would not try it... but they are dead.
And do you have faith in the memories of uncles, aunts, cousins?
- I don't. - You have faith in nothing.
They will closet themselves in their bedrooms, and secretly peer at yellow photographs...
- which that woman will resemble. - That?
Yes, that. Rouge will turn the mouth up a bit.
Some powder, a new coiffure.
Dresses to suggest the other period.
Walk, manner, voice taught along with faces, names, places.
It would be easier if we could present her to the committee...
- lying in her coffin. - Yes, no questions, no answers, no mistakes.
- No money, either. - I know. Now I know!
- Know what? - It's a cellar. You brought me down here to shoot me!
- Are you mad? This is absurd. - It's a cellar!
- Sit down. Sit down, I said! - No!
Pretty good, pretty good.
- A little more rehearsal, perhaps. - What?
He told her how the real one was shot in a cellar and instructed...
Don't be stupid. I told her nothing.
The woman can undoubtedly read.
And certainly, enough has been written describing their death in the cellar.
- Some say she did not die. - Huh? Where did you get that?
He just said so: From a book, or a story I was told.
- A rumor, a whisper. - Or it happened.
It did not, and that woman is too... too something.
Too crazy, too clever, too tricky.
I don't care what she is. The important thing is that she fits.
Get up. Go over there.
- What is it? - Just a drawing. Stand closer.
Turn around.
- The correct height. - "The correct height!"
Yes. The crown might belong on her head.
A drawing of whom? Who is it?
A princess. A Russian grand duchess who died in 1918.
A princess!
G...
Petrovin, a glass of water.
- It's all right. - It's all right, Petrovin. Her Highness is better.
- Don't call me that! - How well you hear.
And how well you know how to use what you hear, and when.
It was you who told the nun that you were the Grand Duchess Anastasia.
- Sick people get sick ideas. - Then you were in that asylum in St. Cloud.
And before that, in Berlin.
- Let me out of here! - You know you were.
You were and you weren't, and why and why not?
Questions like that can only be answered by lies.
- Let me go, let me go! - Stop it! Stop it!
No. No. Please.
Please, don't. Don't!
- Look at her hand. Go on, look. - What?
Well, he wants us to look. All right. Come.
Now, come under the light.
Sit down.
Open your hands.
I told you there were surprising features.
- On the palm of each hand, a scar. - As from bullets.
Now, look at her head. Above the left temple.
A narrow depression, extending almost to the forehead.
- Just as we were told. - Where did you get those scars?
A gift from an unknown admirer.
- Where? - I don't remember.
Wounds like that and you don't remember?
- Huh! Who are you? - No one.
- Who are your parents? - None.
- Where are you from? - The river.
- Before that? - A madhouse.
- And before that? - Another river, and another madhouse.
Oh, come on now. Who are you?
- You tell me. - You must be someone!
- Why? - Nobody, nothing, no one!
- Incredible. - But most convenient for us.
All right, gentlemen. Come over here. Add up the facts.
One: She has a certain resemblance, which we can heighten.
Two: She's obviously smart enough to learn what we teach.
Discrepancies in her memory can be attributed to the head wound.
Three: She has no identity whatsoever.
Which means it will be exceedingly difficult for anyone to prove she's someone else.
- Four... precisely. - We have eight days.
All in favor of the candidate... two to one, elected.
Two to one elected.
Do you realize there are 10 million at stake?
- Ten million? - Yes, my dear. The inheritance of 10 million...
left by the tsar in the Bank of England!
And you want to risk it all on a madwoman.
I must still be in the asylum...
with the one who sat covered and crouched on the floor because she wasn't born yet.
It's you who are mad! I'll have no part of this.
Now, now, my dear. The carriage of the head not quite so high.
Grand duchesses are proud, but also modest.
- They are to be killed, not to be sold. - There you are!
Mad as a hatter! Now she really thinks she is Anastasia.
- I do not! I am not. - But you can be.
- I can make you Anastasia. - She is dead. You said so.
- That doesn't matter. - Please, please. No one will believe it.
- The family. They'll call the lie. - No matter, they will accept you.
For 10 million, gladly.
They would accept me, and pretend to love me for money?
- Is that what they are like? No. I'm going. - Isn't everyone?
- Where? To the river or the madhouse? - You have no papers.
The police will pick you up soon enough.
- If you don't die of starvation sooner. - Oh, come, come.
Why then did you tell those stories in the hospital?
To the little nun? Her eyes grew big as a child's.
But then, in the evening, she brought me special things to eat.
- An orange, or some grapes. - We can bring you much more.
But in another hospital I told other stories, and they believed them, too.
Especially the one where the train blew up.
We were too close to where the mine was planted...
so when the train hit it, pieces of metal fell like a shower of fireworks...
all about us.
The man beside me was killed, and the man beside him, too.
But I was only wounded.
Oh. So that's how you got those scars.
Yes, so it would seem.
I thought you couldn't remember.
- I-I can't, always. Things come and go.
- Like waves of mist. - But look, to be her is what you want, what we want.
Even what the royal family wants.
So I've heard before. All of it. Say this, remember that.
You are, you are not. I know you, I don't know you...
- Oh, I've heard it many times. - Where?
- Bucharest, Berlin... - Berlin?
China, I don't remember!
But the enthusiasm and the promises, those I remember.
And then when memory failed:
Disappointment, anger, dismissal!
Out in the street, failure, fake, nobody!
There you're wrong. There will not be failure this time. Not with me.
Now, listen. You want to know who you are, don't you?
Oh, yes.
You want to find the family to whom you belong, don't you?
Yes, yes.
By yourself, you are lost. But with me, you will find yourself.
Oh, please, I... I'm tired.
You know I am right. The album. Take the chance! It's the only one you have.
Oh, I'm too tired to argue.
You don't have to do anything. I will do it all.
Now, here. Look.
It's you on the deck of your father's yacht.
- The Standart? - The Standart?
- You know the name? - It's written on the lifeboat.
Oh, yes. Now, here you are with your family:
Your father the tsar, your mother, your sisters, your little brother.
- My family. - And here.
Look.
1913. The anniversary of the House of Romanov. 300 years.
There they are on the balcony of the Winter Palace:
And that little girl, there...
- that is you. - Thousands kneeling.
Singing, "God Save the Tsar."
- The people. Your people. - Yes. Yes.
- You can see it, can't you? - Yes, I can.
And now, may I present your staff: Boris Andreivich Chernov.
Formerly of St. Petersburg. Banker.
Piotr Ivanovich Petrovin. Former student of the theological seminary.
Sergei Pavlovich Bounine...
General of the Tcherkess Regiment, former aide- de- camp...
attached to the person of His Imperial Majesty, Nicholas II...
Tsar of all Russia.
Then I... I am Her Imperial Highness...
the Grand Duchess Anastasia Nicolaevna.
- Now, once more.
"Awakened in the middle of the night and taken down to the cellar.
- "And then, without warning..." - "...guards appeared in the doorway...
"and began firing.
- One fainted, shielded by the body of her sister." - Which sister?
- Was it Olga? - Right.
Yes. A white dress. Then darkness.
"One of the executioners crashed down with his rifle.
"Later, two brothers were among the guards that came into the cellar...
"to remove the dead.
- "One of the bodies moved. - Hers.
"Hidden in a farm cart under straw...
"wrapped in sheets filled with snow for her fever.
"They fled across the country...
bribed guards with jewels sewn into her blouse."
- Skirt. - Was it?
- "And they made their way to..."
- I don't know. Balta. - Balta.
And from there across the Romanian border to...
- Bucharest.
- And there? - There?
There she died of heartbreak...
and was thrown into the sea...
to the strains of an old Russian waltz.
It was all quite good up to the end.
This icon. You're supposed to have seen it before.
- Remember? Where was it? - In my mother's bedroom.
She was very religious, and she placed holy pictures everywhere.
- Right. - And books, and albums...
just like these, scattered about, overflowing the tables.
There was a sitting room between the bedroom of my mother and my fa...
Oh, no, that was that little reading room in the hospital. How silly.
- More coffee? She won't sleep. - She hasn't got time.
I don't very much anyway, but thank you.
- All right.
- Where were we? Oh, yes. Your mother. - Don't get excited.
But I know what I'm talking about! We have exactly three days left.
Let us worry about one thing at a time.
One thing at a time.
- All right, Piotr Ivanovich, I'll take over. - I think she's very tired.
No, I've had my coffee. Besides, it all helps to bring my memory back.
And maybe one memory will convince someone.
Even if it's only me.
Where did you live in the winter?
- The Winter Palace, St. Petersburg. - Right. Spring?
Spring? I don't remember.
- Tsarskoie Selo. - Tsarskoie Selo.
- Summer? - Peterhof. Livadia.
- Preferred for the sea air. - Hunting seat.
- Spala. In Poland. - Where?
- Piotr Ivanovich. - And on the Baltic?
No luck, General. The commit...
- In Moscow, you stayed... ...at the Kremlin.
Sergei Pavlovich, no. The committee will not give us even one more day.
- You think she's ready? - No.
- Of course, she thinks she is. - Oh! Listen, she thinks she's Anastasia.
And the great Stanislavski once said, when an actor believes he is...
- the character he's playing, fire him. - It's a bit late for that.
It's a bit late for anything. The eight days are finished.
The play is finished. We are finished.
- The play is merely being replaced by a pantomime. - Huh?
Our leading lady will be very weak, exhausted, too sick to talk.
- With careful staging, the committee will be satisfied.
And careful casting. Her Imperial Highness will be too weak...
to see any more than, let us say, six members.
- Why six? - Three stupid enough to accept even you as Anastasia...
three important enough to spread the news that she is Anastasia.
Your Highness, may I present a few members of our colony here...
who, as I told you are anxious to see you for just a moment.
His Excellency, Count Ilia Feodorovich Bechmetieff...
and his brother, Count Andreikovich Bechmetieff.
His Excellency, Court Assessor Schischkin.
- Schischkin. - What?
Your Imperial Highness.
His Excellency, Von Drivnitz.
- It's very rude to stare. - Forgive me.
Difficult to say.
Madame de Lissenskaia.
Come closer. No. You, please.
I think I know you. Were you not a lady-in-waiting to my mother?
Many people know that, I'm afraid.
I'm trying to remember more.
When I was a child, I used to watch the faces of the ladies-in-waiting...
to see if they were wearing lip rouge... my mother did not allow makeup, so I...
I was not mean, just... just mischievous.
I used to report to her.
What was it my mother used to call you?
Shura? No. Zina.
I'm sorry, it escaped my...
Nini. Yes, Nini.
Your Highness! Your Imperial Highness!
- What's the matter? Don't you like my borscht? - No.
Too bad. The General says you have to eat it.
- She won't eat! - All right, go.
This entire household, everything has been turned upside down just for you.
To make you comfortable, to help you get well.
- I don't like borscht. - I don't care whether you like it or not. Eat it.
I specifically warned you not to say one word to that committee.
You could have ruined everything.
- I told you about Nini, didn't I? - Maybe, I don't know.
Yes, I did, or Petrovin did, or you overheard us. But the important thing...
Are you angry because you're beginning to wonder who I am?
Or because you want me to do nothing except what you tell me?
I know who you are not, just as I know that unless you do as I tell you...
I'll have an extra cigarette girl at my club.
We now have a breathing spell we need badly.
You still have a great deal to learn to achieve what we have agreed. Understand?
Yes, I understand, Excellency.
Then finish your dinner and get to bed. Work begins again in the morning.
- And now, royal etiquette. - All right? One.
One, two, three, four. A queen.
- Your Majesty. - A prince of royal blood.
- Your Highness. - A prince of ordinary station outside of the royal family.
Prince, I suppose, or Your Excellency.
- Cabinet ministers of... - This is absurd!
- Even Anna Koreff would know all of it. - Pick up the book.
- But why do I need it? - Pick up the book.
Put it on your head, and walk over there.
You don't seem to realize that the gesture, the grace...
- the carriage of a true daughter of a tsar...cannot be taught.
Either she learns as a child how to hold herself, or it's too late, Excellency.
- Did she like to play as a child? - No.
- But your mother wanted you to. - I still don't like it.
My hands don't have the strength anymore.
All right, we can use that as an explanation.
But listen to this. Now, this is important.
Your tutor wanted you to learn this, to prove to your mother...
- That the lessons were not in vain.
Did I ever learn it?
Yes, but you hated it.
Mm, mm, mm
I like it now.
It's quite pretty.
Now around. That's it.
Once more.
- All right. Now the Polonaise.
- Can't I rest? - Yes, after dinner. Here we go.
- I can't! - You will. Head up.
Back straight. One, two, three.
- One, two, three, one, two, three.
- Please. - Please concentrate.
- And one, two, three, one, two, three... - My feet hurt. I can't anymore.
- A little rest. - There is no time. The waltz, Petrovin. Come on.
I'm sure you won't mind doing this. This is the waltz you like so much.
The back, the back. With ease, style...
Didn't you say the other day it reminded you of something?
Yes, of my first boy.
- And your first love, no doubt. - Yes.
- Who was he? - I can't remember.
Was he fair, or was he dark with a mustache?
I don't know. One day he's fair, the next he's dark.
I don't know.
One, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, three.
- What are you doing here? - Oh, I can't anymore.
I don't know who I am anymore.
I don't know what I remember, and what I've been told I remember.
- What is real? Am I? - Anna...
Anna. Am I Anna? Why not Tamara, why not Lisa?
Why not Tatiana? Yes, why not Tatiana?
I can't anymore. I want to be me, whoever I am.
I want to be me! I want someone to tell me, someone to accept me.
You have been working very hard, and you're overtired.
- But we're almost finished now. - Are you?
- Well, then you know who I am? - A good night's sleep...
- But you must know. You must! - Just go to bed.
- No, I'm leaving! I'm leaving! I... - Stop it!
- Go to bed at once!
My father was very strict.
I did not like to obey, but he was ringmaster in a circus.
General Bounine?
- Yes? - Who am I?
I don't know.
- Excellencies Countess Iliana Petrovna...
- and Prince Tigantseff. - My dear madame!
Her Highness and the general will be here shortly.
May I thank you again for all of us for what you're doing.
Oh, I should not be thanked. It makes me happy to do anything that will help restore...
- what is rightfully... - Yes.
- Oh, Excellency!
I cannot tell you how important your presence is here today.
My dear Irina, I promised your late father I'd keep an eye on you.
And occasionally, it's a little trying.
I promise you will not regret coming.
That's a promise you may have some difficulty in keeping.
- May I sit down? - Oh, do, please.
- This abominable gout. - This way.
Albert, a chair for His Excellency.
Take care of His Excellency. You know how he is.
- Baron and Baroness Royalvich. - The old fox himself.
- I never thought he would come. - Well...
we may wish he hadn't.
- How many are you taking?
- People will think you're hungry. - Hungry?
I'm not hungry, I'm nervous. No, thank you.
His Excellency, Count Marzumov.
- Xenia! - Grischa!
I must say, a truly wonderful occasion!
- Yes. Red caviar. - What?
- You mean... - Yes.
- If the caviar were real... ...she would be real.
- Vasilli Dimitrovich, please remain here, Your Excellency.
- Hmm? - Remain here! We will see that they come to you!
- I understand. So many dear old faces. - Ah, yes.
- And it is their dear old names we want... - Hmm?
We want their names on signed statements that will convince the Bank of England...
- Yes! Yes! - Yes, yes, convince...
Her Imperial Highness, the Grand Duchess Anastasia.
- This way, Your Highness. Close by the alcove. - Stepan.
My dear general, this is all so exciting.
Your Imperial Highness, please.
So, Piotr Ivanovich, here we go.
Ladies and gentlemen, dear friends...
- Oh, I would like to say a few words, but... - Too much. She's doing too much.
It is very difficult for me to speak today.
General Bounine, would you, please?
As you all know, I am the last one to believe in miracles or resurrections.
But reality cannot be established without help.
Legal help. Witnessed and signed statements.
It is frankly our hope, and our need...
that those among you who believe will come forward after the reception...
and sign these testimonials voluntarily.
Now, I am quite sure...
that some of you have come here to obstruct.
The reasons... political, monetary... we all know.
There are some who have been made understandably cynical by the revolution.
And there are some who will testify to anyone, and anything, and have.
To none of you do we bring any pressure.
To all of you we bring someone who has literally suffered worse than death for ten lost years.
It is our duty to restore this extraordinary person to the world of the living.
If you are sentimental, say it is because she has suffered enough.
If you are humane, say justice must be done.
If you are Russian, a loyal subject of His late Majesty, then say with me:
Our only hope is his daughter...
Her Imperial Highness, Anastasia Nicolaevna.
Her Excellency, Countess Baranova.
Your Highness. When Irina... When Madame de Lissenskaia told me...
I confess I really had doubts. You can understand.
- It really is a miracle. - Is it?
- Yes, Your Highness. We met only once... - I remember.
- Near the tennis courts at Livadia. - Yes!
I remember that my uncle Alex got you the title because he liked dancing.
But from then on, you made a fool of him. My mother never liked you.
My father never liked you and I never liked you. Please go.
- Now just a moment. You're not Anastasia yet... - I said, please go.
You are mad. Don't answer. But I warn you for the last time.
- Your Excellency, you're not leaving...
- without seeing Her Highness. - I have seen her.
But she will be so disappointed at not having seen you again.
- And how do you know that? - Huh? You mean, how do I... Uh, well, uh...
Truthfully, Excellency, we don't, but we are sure she will.
- We are sure, Excellency. - And I! Dear Ivan Wassielevich, you stayed this long...
- and after all, you did promise me... - Now, don't wheedle, Irina.
- Oh, all right. But don't keep me there too long. My foot hurts. - Excellency.
I think you are due for a surprise.
- His Excellency... - I am so glad to see you, Ivan Wassielevich.
- They told you my name. How kind. - Won't you sit down?
No, thank you. I don't expect to stay.
My father's chamberlain was a man of great courtesy.
His Majesty complimented me on many things.
I don't recall his mentioning courtesy.
My father's chamberlain was also a temperate man, who did not judge before...
Madame, forgive me. I've a miserable attack of gout...
undoubtedly a punishment for being intemperate.
And I'm eager to return to my tub of hot water.
There are many characteristics which you could recall...
many details, but so could dozens of others.
My relations with His Majesty's children were impersonal, public.
So in the end, myjudgment could only be a matter of opinion...
and that opinion can only be determined by resemblance and manner.
Your Excellency, ten years is a long time.
No, I've already noted the resemblance.
As to the manner, I've been watching.
And you have given me pleasure. You've taken me back to my seat...
in the Imperial Theater at St. Petersburg.
Second row on the aisle, every Tuesday night.
For the purpose of acting is not only to imitate reality...
but to create illusion.
I'm not being sarcastic when I say you are an excellent actress, Madame.
Extremely well trained. My compliments.
- I do not accept them. - Madame, my foot is troubling me.
My life is troubling me, and it has yet to be lived.
You do not believe because you do not wish to believe.
You say my words will not convince because you're afraid I know the right words.
You misquote, Madame. I said that the manner, the deportment of a grand duchess...
would convince me, but...
I don't see it in you. Not a gesture.
Though one would be worth more than all the words you undoubtedly can produce.
Good day, Madame.
How dare you smoke in my presence without my permission?
Who are you?
Fifteen, 16, 17, 18.
Out of a possible 31.
And you were so sure it would be almost a clean sweep!
Didn't the old fox himself say her performance was great art?
We're not doing this for art, we're doing it for money!
Now listen, this can go on forever!
- Some saying she is, some saying she isn't. - Precisely.
- My mind is made up. - Oh? To what?
There's only one way: To go straight to the top.
- You mean, the old icon? - Yes, the dowager empress.
Sure, the old ramrod sits in her castle in Copenhagen biting her nails...
because she's waiting for Sarah Bernhardt here to give her performance.
She's the one chance. As head of the family, no one would dare dispute her word.
- "Dispute her word." - Excellency, Her Highness would like to see you.
- Her what? She can wait. - Isn't she?
Not too long. She's packing up.
Packing up?
- And where's Her Highness going? - I don't know, and it doesn't matter.
- I thought you enjoyed yourself today. - Yes, until I became ashamed.
Ashamed of allowing myself to be put on display.
Ashamed of conjuring up tricks like a circus freak.
Ashamed of asking people to sign papers that I'm real.
I am real, and I will not stoop to prove it to them.
- Who are they? I think I know. - Who are you?
Today? And tomorrow? Will you be so sure tomorrow, and the day after?
Why? Why can't you let me believe?
I will even help you believe, when I'm sure of the truth myself.
No one will ever be sure, and you least of all. I know that today, too.
Wrong. Those people today were not worth your efforts.
But there is someone who is. One word from her and they will all grovel.
- The Dowager Empress Maria Feodorovna. - Grandmama.
- Grandma-MA. - Grandma-MA.
- She'll never see me. - She will.
- How do you know? Words! - I know she will.
Call me schemer, plotter, call me what you will.
Deep down you know that if anyone can get you to see that old woman, it is I.
- And I'll get you there for your sake. - For my sake?
- Yes. - You never did anything for the sake of anybody but yourself.
You enjoy playing with people, making fools of them.
That's why you're doing it, as a joke! To prove that you are great, and alive...
and the others are small and dead.
Yes, and for money... Go ahead.
It won't hurt.
Sit down.
If you want to leave after I am through, I won't force you to stay.
Let us say you are right.
As a matter of fact, you are.
That's all the more reason for you to go with me to the empress in Copenhagen.
Never trust anyone who functions from noble motives. The good are never sure.
And in the end, they'll let you down.
Our motives are different, agreed.
But our goal is the same. And that's the only thing that counts.
Well?
We'll go to Copenhagen?
- I had a dream the other night. - Yes. About your father being a ringmaster.
No. This time he was a doll maker.
My mother, his assistant who painted the faces.
The correct ancestry for a puppet.
You know I'll go. You always know.
She always wore black, the empress, didn't she?
Yes.
For ten years, I've wanted to see her.
- She was never very easy, even before the end. - Yes, I know.
You know, or you remember?
Prince Paul. Let's see. Nephew to the empress, second cousin to me...
- engaged to me when I was... how old? - Sixteen.
Quite attractive.
- Do you remember him? - No.
You should. I'll tell you a secret, that first waltz you remember...
- It was with him.
- Danish customs. Have you anything to declare? - No.
Madame. Thank you.
- Madame Anderson. Madame Anderson! - Oh, yes.
Oh, yes. Bounine. Everything in order?
Yes, it seems to be. Welcome to Denmark. I hope you enjoy your visit.
- Thank you.
- I'm sorry, I forgot.
- I've had so many names. - It was a struggle to get you that one.
- Why Anderson? - Oh, well you needed some name...
- and once I was in a situation with... - With a lady?
Well, as an alias, it is innocuous enough.
"Madame A. Anderson."
The least real thing about me is my legal reality.
What happened to the other Madame Anderson?
- Oh, nothing very important. - Just got tired of her?
- This visa is good for only 14 days.
Two weeks. Most people have a lifetime in which to be accepted.
- Suppose two weeks are not enough. - They must be.
- What's that for? - In the cavalry, we used to do it...
when we saw the infantry marching.
- Driver, what is this parade? - Nothing special.
We have it every day the king is here in Copenhagen.
Thank you. The king?
- Uncle Chris. Cousin to Grandmama, the empress. - Good. Very good.
Excuse me, sir.
- Will you see Mrs. Anderson to her rooms, please? - Yes.
Excuse me, please. Where is the bar?
That way, sir.
- Well? - Not good. - Uh- uh.
The empress absolutely refuses to see you, let alone her.
- And him?
No. Our Prince Paul lives on the old lady's allowance.
He was always rather courageous.
One possibility. Remember Baroness von Livenbaum?
That crazy lady-in-waiting of the empress?
- Mm, vaguely. - She remembers you clearly.
Uh, just a moment. You have a rendezvous with her tomorrow at 4:00.
- Rendezvous? - Yes.
- At the Tivoli Gardens.