Subtitles by explosiveskull www.OpenSubtitles.org
I do not wish to comment on the work.
If it does not speak for itself, it is a failure.
I wanted to tell a story that could easily be understood by anyone.
A story so simple even a child could understand it.
Truth was too strange to tell any other way.
I was not born for an age like this.
Were you?
The world is being invaded by monsters,
but I suppose you don't want to hear about that.
I could be writing romantic novels,
novels people actually want to read.
Maybe in a different age, I would.
But if I tell the story of the monsters
through the talking farm animals,
maybe then you will listen.
Then you will understand.
The future is at stake, so please read carefully between the lines.
Mr. Jones of the Manor Farm
had locked the hen houses for the night.
Hitler and Goebbels are both there.
Next thing you know,
we're strapped onto Hitler's plane, the Richthofen,
fastest and most powerful plane in all of Germany.
On the flight, Goebbels is reading the papers
while Hitler,
Hitler studies a map of Europe.
And I couldn't help but think,
"If this plane should crash,
"the whole history of Europe would be changed."
Well, thank you, young man,
for that passionate presentation.
But the Germans have their own unrest to worry about.
The Reichstag fire was not unrest.
It was a tactic.
The Nazis now have an excuse to end all opposition.
But how can you be so certain?
Goebbels told me.
War begins in the minds of men.
Goebbels believes the Reich will be here
for a thousand years,
which means they will most certainly
expand to the east into Poland.
The next Great War, gentleman, has already begun.
Herr Hitler will soon learn
that there's a great deal of difference
between holding a rally and running a country.
I see Mr. Jones has told you we're at war.
Sorry to interrupt.
There's a call from Moscow.
- Who is it? - For Mr. Jones.
Excuse me a moment, gentleman.
Do you know who it was?
They were speaking Russian.
Is that right?
You must go home.
You have a home, don't you?
This is my home.
It's just, I never got to make my main strategic point,
which is to resist Hitler,
we will need an alliance with Stalin,
a man who performs miracles.
Ms. Stevenson, do you know how much the ruble is worth?
Not very much.
Global economic collapse.
Meanwhile, the Soviets are having a spending spree.
How?
What's the matter?
Why have you brought me a cup of tea?
I was wrong.
About your position.
The cuts are deeper than expected.
There's simply no money.
I'm so sorry.
He's waiting to see you before you go.
My boy.
This Depression, the casualties,
it's like another Great War.
Goodbye, sir.
It was an honor to serve you.
I couldn't have asked
for a more brilliant foreign adviser.
Sir, you are surrounded by men
with decades of experience,
but it is me you need, sir.
I'm the only one who tells you the truth.
No one else seems to understand
the gravity of the situation, sir.
I took the liberty of writing you
a letter of recommendation.
Thank you, sir.
This is for you.
It's not finished yet.
It's my report on the Soviet question.
And what's your answer?
I don't have one.
Stalin isn't returning my calls.
You could still send me to Moscow,
ask him where the money is coming from.
But what happens after your conversation with Stalin?
I will go back to Wales,
teach in my father's school in Barry,
get married, and settle down.
And then, one day, after a long and comfortable life,
I will wake up screaming.
I've woken up screaming in Barry myself.
Sir, I'm sure you've woken up most people
with your screaming in Barry.
Nazi Party gets four seats in Germany!
A visa takes time, Mr. Jones.
Why are you in such a hurry to visit Moscow?
I hear Moscow is beautiful this time of year.
Yes, March?
And you want a press visa?
What's this?
My articles.
We will need a letter from your editor,
a three-page description
of what you will write about Russia,
copies of all the articles you have written,
and the address of your publisher.
I don't have an editor or a publisher.
I'm a stringer.
Freelance.
Who will be paying for your trip?
Myself.
So you are not a journalist.
You want to be a journalist.
I have interviewed Hitler.
I plan to interview Stalin.
You're funny, Mr. Jones.
Right.
Gareth Jones.
That's the easy bit.
Moscow, 71795.
Mr. Kleb!
- Yeah? - Telephone, please.
Okay, sorry.
Paul, this is Gareth Jones, in London.
Listen, I'm on my way to Moscow.
Gareth, I've been trying to reach you.
So you are coming here?
Paul, I need your help again,
this time arranging an interview with Stalin.
Please tell me you know a way.
Go see Walter Duranty at the New York Times.
He has influence.
I'm persona non grata at the moment.
Listen, I really need to talk to you.
I've found something big.
It can break the story wide open.
It's worse than we thought before.
Paul?
Your visa application has been approved
and we have made arrangements for you
to be our guest at the Metropol Hotel.
The Metropol?
I was going to find an old hotel near the train station,
but this is much more preferable.
You will register with the British Embassy
when you arrive, and then you register
with the Soviet Press Office.
Failure to register forfeits your visa.
Is that understood, Mr. Jones?
I would love to see more of your beautiful country
other than just Moscow.
Right after your interview with Stalin.
Good luck, Mr. Jones.
Gareth.
It's a new building.
They gave us a lovely room here.
The Soviets have built more in five years
than our government can manage in 10.
You ought to visit the factories.
British engineers here, Metro Vickers.
- You should talk to them. - I'll do that.
Where are they hosting you? The Metropol?
- Yes. - Hmm.
How are things in London?
Have Lloyd George and MacDonald
solved the economic crisis yet?
They have their best minds on the case.
Ah, their best minds got us into this mess.
What have you heard from the Kremlin about Hitler?
Did Lloyd George tell you to ask me that?
Hm? Does Hitler make him nervous?
I'm afraid not.
Forgive me, we're putting the paper to bed.
I read your article.
Do you think Hitler really believes the things he says?
Lots of people say that he's deranged.
Mm-hmm.
What is deranged in a deranged world, hm?
There's talk in London we're headed for war.
Britain cannot afford another war.
Can the Soviets?
British engineers, new factories,
how is Stalin paying for it all?
Money, I suppose.
Then he's not paying for it in rubles.
You know how rich this country is, how vast?
South, it's nothing but wheat fields.
Grain is Stalin's gold.
That's a lot of grain.
The Five-Year Plan has more than doubled
their annual output.
So why are you really here, Mr. Jones?
I need your help arranging an interview with Stalin.
Hmm.
What are you, 27, 28?
Does it matter?
Have you become so accustomed
to weekends in the country with Lloyd George
that you think you can take tea with just any head of state?
I have no expectations.
I just have questions.
The numbers just don't add up.
The Kremlin is broke,
so how are the Soviets suddenly on a spending spree?
Who's providing the finance?
Forgive me.
The fact that I have more questions than answers
always makes me nervous.
Mm-hmm.
Who got you on the plane with Hitler?
I had help.
From a journalist.
Mm-hmm.
It was Paul Kleb who helped me get on Hitler's plane.
He tipped me off where he would be and when.
Actually, I have to go.
He's staying at the Metropol.
I'm hoping to catch him this evening.
So this is good.
More of this.
She's my star.
I depend on her.
Paul Kleb is dead.
It was a robbery three days ago.
You didn't know?
No.
Hmm.
Did you know him well?
We met in Berlin.
He was a friend.
Where did it happen?
Outside the Metropol.
I'm having some people over this evening,
journalists mostly.
Do you care to join?
Yes, yes, of course.
- Thank you. - Mm-hmm.
Welcome.
Mr. Jones?
You are staying two nights.
No, I'm here for one week.
I was told two nights.
My visa is for one week.
It says so on the stamp.
We're full the remaining nights.
Metro Vickers is holding a conference.
Do you know another hotel nearby?
I'm afraid you're only authorized to stay here,
only for two nights.
Right then, two nights.
Say, what's going on here?
All the hotel is on high alert.
There was a robbery.
Cushny, don't be worried.
There's top security around here.
Where are you from?
Wales.
You here for the Western Mail?
Stringer.
Eugene Lyons, United Press.
Yes, I know.
Gareth Jones.
I enjoyed your articles
on the construction of the electrical grid.
Then you must know Metro Vickers' finest.
- L.C. Thornton. - It's a pleasure.
- John Cushny. - How do you do?
Hello.
Is Metro Vickers holding a conference
in the hotel this week?
No, who gave you that idea?
Come on, I look like I could use a drink.
Why do you look so familiar?
Doesn't he look familiar, Lyons?
You're that Welsh chappie that interviewed Hitler!
You're definitely coming with us.
Oh, everybody comes to Duranty's.
The best parties in Moscow.
Oh, hey, I see you guys have got started without us.
The party's in full swing.
He told me that he was persona non grata
with the regime... Do you know why?
Did you know what he was working on?
There's not much else to do here, is there,
when you're not allowed to leave Moscow.
And what kind of reporting can you do, confined here?
Wait, journalists are confined to Moscow?
For protection?
Yeah, that's right.
What, are they paranoid about spies?
Have you ever read Edgar Allen Poe's
"The Masque of the Red Death"?
"The Masque of the Red Death", you read it?
No.
Get a copy before they ban it.
Come.
Do you know,
do you know where the money is coming from?
Duranty said grain is Stalin's gold.
Grain is Stalin's gold?
Duranty actually said that?
That's a hell of a line.
Ask him why he never bothered to use it in print.
Muggeridge, Barnes, come over here!
Lloyd George wants an interview.
Malcolm Muggeridge, pleasure.
- Let's dance! - Gareth Jones.
That's what I'm talking about!
Have you met Bonnie?
So you inject it yourself, just like a nurse would?
You wanna try some?
What's it like?
It's like,
being in the arms of God.
"The light whose name is Splendour."
What'd you say, honey?
Oh, it's, it's an old Welsh poem,
"Battle of the Trees."
Yes!
It's like poetry.
Are you sure?
No, no, thank you.
Why don't you give it to me, then?
- Oh, no. - You won't hurt me.
You just have to be gentle.
Oh no, that's quite all right.
♪ Dee, dee, dee, dee, dee, dee, dee ♪
♪ La la, la la ♪
♪ Whoa ♪
♪ She messed around with a bloke named Smokey ♪
♪ She loved him though he was cokey ♪
♪ He took her down to Chinatown ♪
♪ And he showed her how to kick the gong around ♪
♪ Hi dee, hi dee, hi dee ho ♪
♪ La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la ♪
♪ Dee, dee, dee, dee, dee, dee, dee, dee ♪
♪ La la, la la ♪
Leaving so soon?
Mr. Duranty.
Mr. Jones.
Did you enjoy yourself?
I can honestly say that I've never seen
anything quite like it.
Was Bonnie all right?
She's not quite to your taste, is she?
Pardon me?
Mm, perhaps,
or perhaps you would prefer him.
Hmm?
I came for... thank you.
I came here to work, Mr. Duranty.
There's nothing to be ashamed of.
Thank you.
You can do whatever you'd like here.
It's a curious thing that the Kremlin
confines journalists to Moscow.
- Mm-hmm. - Thank you.
You don't drink.
You don't appreciate the gorgeous girls at my party.
You are rather dull, Mr. Jones.
There are other things in life, I suppose.
Such as?
Well, I'm standing opposite
a completely naked Pulitzer Prize winner.
My life can can't be that dull, can it?
Come here, let me show you.
My son.
Refuses to learn English.
Proud Russian.
All right.
Goodnight, Mr. Jones.
Get home safely.
Goodnight, Mr. Duranty.
Hey.
Were you at Duranty's?
Yes.
Do you mind running these upstairs
and leaving them on his desk?
It's a bloody opium den up there, isn't it?
Hey!
His office is third door to the left.
I couldn't help myself.
I took a quick look at your article.
Did you?
- But... - Shh!
Who is that?
That's my big brother.
I thought it was well written.
Thank you.
I'm interested in your reporting
on Stalin's new tanks and plane factories.
It's for the Americans.
Duranty's trying to lure them here.
So Duranty is playing peacemaker?
The revolution won't succeed without foreign investment.
The British government is here.
That's not enough.
Americans need to see they can make money here.
Washington's boycott will finally be over.
And the revolution will be well on its way again.
What other choice do we have?
I just didn't think that Duranty had an agenda,
or that he was advising the President of the United States.
Did you know Paul Kleb?
Everyone knew Paul.
Do you happen to know what he was working on?
Here's my door.
Goodnight.
Ada!
It's my first night.
Care to join me in a bowl of borscht?
No.
Good luck in Moscow.
Good morning.
May I come in?
I'm on deadline.
What are you working on?
I'm researching a story on the agricultural output
of collectivization compared to former agrarian systems.
That sounds fascinating.
What are your sources?
Look, I don't have much time,
so if there's something I can help you with...
My sources tell me you're foreign affairs adviser
to Lloyd George.
- Is that not the case anymore? - I am.
You've been checking up on me.
Look, I need to get back to my work.
That's the thing about deadlines.
What do you want?
The story no one is talking about.
I can see for myself.
The numbers, they don't add up.
There is a story here.
I think Paul was onto it.
Don't say anything, just listen.
Paul was working on a story he was afraid to talk about.
I spoke to Paul on the day he was murdered.
He sounded like he needed to talk.
Do you have any idea why?
He was so stubborn.
Paul the Apostle.
Look, I saw him.
Four bullets in his back.
They said it was a robbery.
And you don't think it was a robbery.
What was Paul working on?
Oh, come on, tell me!
What was Paul working on?
The Ukraine.
Stalin's gold.
And journalists aren't allowed to Ukraine.
That's where he was headed the day he was shot.
You're not Paul.
Go home, Gareth.
Can I use your typewriter?
Why?
I left mine at home.
You write poetry?
Do you always go where you're not wanted?
Read me one of your poems.
My mother used to read me poetry.
Welsh poems, mostly.
"I know the light whose name is Splendour.
"And the number of the ruling lights
"that scatter rays of fire high above the deep."
It's "The Battle of the Trees."
You've got five minutes.
I only need one.
- Eat, eat! - Thank you.
- Caviar? - No, thank you.
- Wine? - I don't drink.
Mmm.
Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.
Nonsense. Lloyd George's foreign adviser is in Moscow.
It is an honor to receive you.
But, it is very odd, if you don't mind my saying so,
that you registered a press visa,
not a diplomatic one.
Why would Lloyd George's foreign adviser
come to Moscow as a journalist?
What's this?
A letter of introduction from my employer, Lloyd George.
Relations between our two countries
have finally normalized.
We have our best engineers here,
Metro Vickers, helping you power your factories.
I hope I can speak freely, friend to friend.
Sure.
It was Lloyd George who arranged that interview with Hitler,
and it confirmed our worst fears.
I came as a journalist
so as not to attract attention from the Germans.
There is concern in London
that the Soviet Union would not be able
to defend itself should Hitler attack.
Attack?
You read the same papers we do.
You have your agents in Germany, as do we.
They're all hearing the same things, are they not?
If we are to contain Hitler,
we must open two fronts.
Can you hold the eastern front?
Mr. Jones, Metro Vickers may be qualified
to build factories, but they are nothing
compared to the engineers, Soviet engineers,
we have building new planes and tanks in Kharkov...
- In Ukraine? - Stalino.
- What? - In Ukraine?
Yes, yes, in Ukraine!
In fact, Mr. Jones, why don't you see for yourself?
I would be happy to arrange a trip for you
to see just how prepared we are
for an attack from the Germans.
Or the British.
Paul gave me this before he left.
All the information is there, where he was going.
He wanted me to have it in case he never made it back.
Want some tea?
Look who has the agenda now.
I don't have an agenda.
Unless you call truth an agenda.
Yes, but whose truth?
The truth.
There is only one kind.
That's so naive.
Journalism is the noblest profession.
You follow the facts, wherever it leads.
You don't take sides.
My father is in the Foreign Service.
I grew up mostly in Berlin.
There's no place like it.
The freedom, the art, the music, the culture.
The Nazis are destroying everything so quickly
and I am afraid for...
I'm afraid for my friends.
They're arresting everyone in the Communist Party.
We have to succeed. We don't have a choice.
You sound like you work for Stalin.
Not for Stalin. I believe in a movement
that is bigger than any one person.
What if you're wrong?
That's just another option, is it?
Look, there are cycles of history
just like there are cycles of nature.
There's been nothing but war and depression and now is
the chance to rebuild, to fight for the future,
and the future of the people, the real people,
the workers, and that's what the Soviets are doing.
Do you believe in a state that would put four bullets
in your friend's back?
No, I believe that this movement
is bigger than any of us.
Paul Kleb was a human sacrifice.
Do you hear yourself?
Tea?
I'll go make us some more tea.
Most magnificent musical instrument ever invented.
It's so odd.
Oh, wait.
You've gotta do this.
That's it.
- And that's the whole song? - That's not bad.
That's the song, yeah. That's the only song I can play.
My mother didn't bring much back,
but this is the one thing she did.
And she taught English in Ukraine?
Stalino?
It was Hughesovka back then.
In fact, Kleb's map takes me to where she once lived.
My mother died when I was 11.
In her sleep.
I think she killed herself.
If you met my father, you'd understand why.
Your father's still stationed in Berlin?
That's home.
That's where I met Paul.
Come with me, Ada.
Come and see where my mother lived.
Let's find the farmers who knew her.
Ada.
No!
Hey.
Ada.
Hey.
- Don't go! - Shh, shh.
Shh, shh.
No, just go.
Just go.
We're in Ukraine.
Oh, yeah.
How did you know that?
Oh, my mother spent some time here.
Phew!
I'll just...
There, comrades, is the answer to all our problems.
It is summed up in a single word: man.
Man is the only real enemy we have.
Remove man from the scene
and the root cause of hunger and overwork
is abolished forever.
Mama!
Somehow it seemed as though
the farm had grown richer
without making the animals themselves any richer.
Except, of course, for the pigs and the dogs.
All animals are equal.
But some animals are more equal than others.
They arrested six engineers from Britain.
Six?
Are you worried that London might see this as an act of war?
What about Washington?
What?
No questions?
Mr. Cushny?
Mr. Jones.
I'm surprised Lloyd George
would risk his foreign adviser.
He didn't.
No?
Are you saying, we should release you?
What about the engineers?
Should we release them, too?
This is what we'll do.
We will send you back to Lloyd George,
but we will keep the other spies.
And when Lloyd George's foreign adviser
returns to England and tells the truth
about what he saw, your engineers will live.
Mr. Jones,
did you enjoy your trip to the countryside?
Hmm?
Good.
You saw the happy and proud farmers,
the remarkable efficiency of our collective farms?
And any rumors of a famine are just that, simply rumors.
What are they?
- Rumors. - And?
There is no famine.
Repeat!
There is no famine.
Good.
As you know, there are those
who would like to see our revolution fail,
but we won't let that happen, will we, Mr. Jones?
No.
I've arranged your passage home.
We have your suitcase here for you.
Mr. Jones.
I'll have you know I convinced them to let you go.
You don't deserve to be in a prison for your bravery.
You know, Mr. Duranty.
Knew what?
How much is Stalin paying you?
What's keeping you here, lying for them?
You wouldn't know the first thing
about how difficult it is to report from Moscow today,
would you?
Of course not, you're just a child.
But it is not the job of a journalist
to say, "How dare you, sir."
You actually thought you could interview Stalin
and make some kind of difference, didn't you?
A souvenir from my trip.
Tree bark.
It's all the people have left to eat.
All right.
You keep it next to your Pulitzer!
My dear Mr. Jones,
there comes a time in every man's life
when he must choose a cause greater than himself,
than all his miserable little ambitions put together.
Perhaps someday you will.
It's a shame.
You would have made a fine journalist.
Well, I guess now the censors
are gonna be really busy.
Just wait a few days.
Ada?
Ah, there he is.
Jones!
- You look great. - Good to see you.
I want you to meet my newest published author.
What do I call you now?
- Eric Blair. - Gareth Jones.
You won't find Blair on the bookshelf.
Oh, thanks.
No, you have to look for Orwell.
George Orwell, after the river.
Thank you.
I think Mr. Jones needs a drink.
But he doesn't drink.
You know, I think you're my only client who doesn't.
Then you might actually get some work done.
One of us must.
You run a charity, Leonard.
No, nonsense.
"Down and Out in Paris and London" will be a sensation.
Leonard tells me you're working on a book
about the Soviet Union.
Oh, I've been using that line for some time, I'm afraid.
I do have a story,
but if I tell it, six innocent men will die.
- What men? - The British engineers.
Oh.
Ah.
But if I write the story,
millions of lives may be saved.
I think, speak the truth.
Regardless of the consequences,
it is your duty, and it is our right to hear you.
That's just common sense, isn't it?
The six British citizens whom I believe are innocent
are being held as bargaining chips by Moscow.
If we in the West fold to this blackmail,
we are potentially allowing unprecedented catastrophe.
The Soviet Union is not the worker's paradise
that was promised.
It is not the great experiment
that you read about in the press.
Stalin has no stunning new achievements,
unless you consider killing
millions of innocent people an achievement.
Make no mistake.
If we let him get away with this man-made famine,
there will be others like him.
Thank you very much.
Thank you.
Quite a story.
Maybe the Soviets are doing the best they can,
making the best decisions they can,
given the circumstances.
What about their free schools?
The free hospitals?
Yes, but at what cost?
A more egalitarian society does exist,
it's just not perfect.
We can't expect it to be.
Experiments take time, Jones.
An egalitarian society,
it's the same system of exploitation that exists here,
only it's worse.
Unimaginably worse.
- I know what I saw. - Of course you do.
Of course you do, but,
but one has to put it in the proper context.
Listen to me.
Stalin is not the man who you think he is.
Are you saying there's no hope?
Why didn't the New York Times
break the famine story?
Consider the source.
Lloyd George's aide comes out with this now,
in the middle of all this business
with the British engineers.
What are you hearing?
It's all overblown.
It's hysteria.
What does London want, another war?
You'll get to the bottom of this?
- Of course. - We need it tomorrow.
But just at that moment,
as though at a signal,
all the sheep burst out in tremendous bleating
of, "Four legs good, two legs better."
It went on for five minutes without stopping.
And by the time the sheep had quieted down,
the chance to utter any protest had passed,
for the pigs has marched back into the farmhouse.
Mr. Duranty is waiting for me.
You know, if you ever decide to leave,
they won't let you take him with you.
They'll hold him here, as ransom,
along with whatever else the Kremlin has on you.
I thought you wanted a raise.
What will you do when the others come forward?
There aren't going to be others.
You can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs.
What's being done here will transform mankind.
So darling, bring that chair right over here.
Come on.
Aren't you the least bit concerned
what they'll do to Mr. Jones, hmm?
If they start believing him? Just that chair there.
Bring it right over here.
Put it right down here.
A bit closer.
In all my time in Moscow,
I have never heard a tale
as preposterous as that of Mr. Jones.
Go on.
Type.
Certainly conditions are not ideal
in the Soviet Union.
There are still great challenges
as Stalin continues his march towards modernity.
March toward modernity.
You can protect him.
Right?
The exaggerations of the now notorious Gareth Jones
do not portray the real modern Russia,
where Stalin is admired and loved.
Signed, Ada Brooks.
Here.
Your passage to the future.
It's an old friend in New York.
He's an editor.
The only monsters they have are bankers.
Mm-hmm.
Do you have a choice, Ada?
Think of Paul.
I received an urgent phone call this morning
from Mr. Litvinov, Commissar for Foreign Affairs.
He told me some disturbing things
about your unauthorized trip.
I assured Mr. Litvinov
that you will retract your statements to the press
and clear up this matter immediately.
Or they will shoot our engineers?
That matter does not concern you.
They are holding them hostage, sir,
blackmailing us from speaking out.
You broke serious laws in a foreign country.
You wanted to know the truth as much as I did.
You were released weeks ago from my employ.
You no longer work for me or His Majesty's government.
If you had any sense, you would do as I ask!
Have you seen so many wars
that the murder of innocent people means nothing to you?
How can I retract the empty villages?
The orphaned children plagued by hunger?
We can still do something, sir.
- We can still help. - Mr. Jones.
We cannot let Stalin get away with this!
What do you expect me to do, exactly?
Break off all ties
when our economy is already on its knees?
You betrayed my trust.
You betrayed your country.
You will retract your statements publicly without delay.
You've gone too far.
I will not be silenced, sir.
They're saying you lied.
They're all saying you lied!
Diplomatic crisis has erupted
between the East and the West.
- Did you? - The latest accusation
comes from a young man by the name of Gareth Jones.
It should be noted that Mr. Jones
is a foreign adviser to David Lloyd George.
The claim from Lloyd George's secretary
is that a famine plagues the Soviet Union.
I spoke to various experts myself
and can confirm that conditions remain difficult
- during the Five-Year Plan. - My God.
But my readers will be reassured
that the famine story is entirely false.
The New York Times.
Duranty debunks our dear Mr. Jones.
It's a shame he has to mention
he was Lloyd George's secretary.
Gareth.
You were cleverer than all of us.
It's the last place I thought you'd end up.
I thought you'd be prime minister by now.
We've already had
one Welsh prime minister this century.
Mustn't be greedy.
I am happy to have you here, I am.
Look, I promised the publisher
to keep you away from foreign affairs and politics,
but that does leave things like culture.
Bryn, Gareth Jones, you remember him?
- He's back. The legend returns. - Hold on.
Culture?
Yes, anything to help people forget
the terrible state we're in. Morning.
Now I've got you in with me, hope that's okay.
And we should be as snug as toast.
Good morning, good morning, good morning!
This just in from Moscow.
The Soviet Union will release the remaining...
They may be able to return home
as early as next week.
Kremlin officials in Washington today
have much to celebrate
after a series of negotiations with the White House.
The United States has officially recognized
the Soviet Union.
- Cheers! - Cheers!
American business leaders
have long welcomed this move
as a way to expand trade.
But the man credited for convincing President Roosevelt
is Walter Duranty, better known to his readers
as Our Man in Moscow.
The creatures outside
look from pig to man, and from man to pig,
and from pig to man again.
But already it was impossible to say which was which.
That's Gareth Jones.
My mum said he's mad.
Run!
Gareth, you all right?
Those church ladies refusing to talk to you, are they?
No rush.
You planning on submitting your article soon?
He's here.
- Blimey. - Who's here?
Hearst.
William Randolph Hearst?
He summers nearby in Saint Donats.
The big man is here.
You've been away a long time.
Of course.
Of course!
Hearst boards at Donat.
Where do you think you're going?
I've got to talk to him.
Gareth, a word.
Gareth!
Gareth, wait.
Gareth!
Gareth, wait.
Every summer we try and get an interview with Hearst
and every summer we're denied.
Not this summer.
I'm the assistant editor now.
I have to play my cards carefully, you understand?
Fine.
I'll interview him.
Are you mad?
I can't have you going to Saint Donats.
You've gambled with your career.
You're not gambling with mine.
Can I help you?
I work for the Western Mail.
Well, as you can see, we're rather busy.
I've just returned from Moscow.
I have a story that will run
on the front of Mr. Hearst's newspapers.
I suggest you talk to his newspapers then.
Didn't you say you write for the Western Mail?
Why would you give your story to Mr. Hearst,
a competitor?
Mr. Hearst's papers have more lawyers.
I'm afraid you're trespassing,
so I must ask you to leave.
If you'll just give me one minute, I...
Thank you, thank you, I have my bike.
I let myself in through the kitchen.
- Eres! - Mr. Hearst, believe me,
I have something you want to hear.
Peter!
I have a story of Pulitzer making a terrible mistake.
- Mr. Hearst... - Let him be.
You have 30 seconds.
I just returned from Moscow.
I took a train south and saw empty village
after empty village.
Ah, the famine stories.
I saw it with my own eyes, Mr. Hearst.
The world has just lost one of its best reporters,
a man who I know you tried to hire.
I chased Kleb for years.
You think they killed him?
You thought so, too?
Why did they want Paul dead?
The same reason they're discrediting me.
You're certain it was the famine story got him killed?
A journalist who worked with him confirmed it.
Well, if I commission an article from you,
it will be your word against Duranty's Pulitzer.
Hmm?
Yeah.
Yes.
Famine in the Soviet Union!
Death in Ukraine, read Gareth Jones!
FDR takes America off the gold standard!
Death in Ukraine, read Gareth Jones!
Dear Gareth, I am home in Berlin.
How quickly things fall apart.
I'm writing for Berliner Tageblatt again,
for the moment, until they shut us down.
I read your article. You were right.
There is only one truth.
Congratulations, Gareth.
Paul would be so proud.
Wherever you're off to next,
make sure to pack a good bag.
For days at a time,
the animals had nothing to eat but chaff and mangles.
Starvation seemed to stare them in the face.
It was vitally necessary
to conceal this fact from the outside world.
Emboldened by the collapse of the windmill,
the human beings were inventing
fresh lies about Animal Farm.
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