King of the Belgians Page #5

of the moon should never see the light.

And do you believe that?

No.

But the film, if I released it,

that would have destroyed them.

- One more question, Mr. Lloyd.

- Of course.

Did you film the finger?

Goodbye.

This boat is scrap.

It's impossible.

It was not in the water

for centuries.

What a scam.

I already have sea sickness.

They had no passports and no cash,

so I bought us a boat.

Not a very good one.

Are there no ferries?

Are you sure you asked?

Yes, we asked yesterday.

- It is not possible.

- It's better than it looks.

The wood is rotten.

Look at how the wood is reduced.

Have faith.

We have no choice.

- Crossing the Adriatic on this?

- You do not have to continue complaining.

I'm not complaining.

I'm realist.

- Mr. Moreau?

- Yes.

The palace will reimburse me

for the boat, won't they?

- Yes, of course, Mr. Lloyd.

- That was all the money I had left.

The west is from that side.

At sea, the most direct route

is always a curve, sire.

So tell me, does Belgium

still have a future?

I mean, why split a peanut?

Diplomacy and courage

must lead us to

compromise, Mr. Lloyd.

Maybe we just split it.

The Wallons say they are fed up.

- Are you fed up, Mr. Moreau?

- I'm fed up with...

simplicity and clich.

Carlos, get me a popular clich.

Walloons are lazy, profiteers.

- And Mr. Moreau?

- The Flemish are arrogant.

- He didn't understand you.

- The Flemish are arrogant.

Can we look at the bright side?

Is there a positive clich?

Walloons are warmer.

You know, warmer persons.

Flemish are a little bit more,

perhaps...

inventive, innovative.

That sounds like the old clich

between northern and southern Europe.

- Like Germany and Greece.

- You have a point, Mr. Lloyd.

It's like Belgium is a button that

keeps the two sides of a shirt together.

Please, sire, come back.

Be reasonable.

There he is, King of the Belgians,

end up be in a bath.

- Is it not too cold?

- No, it's perfect.

Happy without all the if's.

Come on, Ludovic, it's fantastic.

A king whose kingdom

collapsed...

A king who wanted

to go home...

to his country...

searching for the right words.

I feel.

I taste.

I smell.

I see.

All my senses are amplified.

I feel reborn.

Good morning!

We arrived!

Here we are!

Good morning!

Don't we take a good coffee?

Good morning.

I am thirsty.

Next up there, Carlos.

That will be

the local authorities.

Good morning gentlemen.

We came from the Balkans.

This is the King of Belgium.

We are a diplomatic mission.

Excuse me?

He is Albanian.

You do not speak Italian?

We are in Albania.

How in Albania?

- I do not believe it. Are you sure?

- Yes.

Let's go down and

ask for a phone.

- Carlos, what happened?

- I guess it was the streams.

- How the streams?

- There are so many wave streams at sea.

Well, then we go down.

We went to Montenegro.

There we bought a boat.

The sea was were we needed to be.

No, excuse me, Italy.

The Albanian port master was not

impressed. He smoked a dozen

while Ludovic tried to make

his case, but nothing doing.

- We were just a bunch from Balochistan.

- Can I just have a glass of water?

Please, drink.

Passports?

Yes, I know, but

if we had the passports,

you would understand who we are.

Once again, this man here is our king,

Nicolas III, King of the Belgians.

What will we do about our king?

What does the Queen

want us to capture?

His vitality...

and his spontaneity?

And the smiles.

And the smiles.

We need an official

version of this story.

Why not the truth?

Hello?

Her Majesty?

What a relief to hear your voice.

Yes, he is here,

right next to me.

No, I mean, that's right...

There is Mr. Moreau over here.

I will transfer you.

Hello? Her Majesty?

Yes... Yes, we're fine.

And you? I mean, the kingdom?

The political situation?

Yes, I understand.

The king is very fine.

We have a small problem.

Yes, you too, I imagine.

Excuse me to stop you...

No, we are not in Istanbul.

In Albania.

We are in Albania.

Yes, like Mother Teresa.

In prison, Her Majesty.

Yes, okay.

Yes, see you, Her Majesty.

- Why did you tell her about the prison?

- I did not want to invent a story.

The Chief of Cabinet will

call you to this number.

And then we'll call the guards.

Now I'm off,

if you don't mind.

Thank you very much.

- She does not answer.

- Wait.

I do not want to wait.

First you must contact...

It's ringing.

Yes, we are healthy and safe...

Did anyone explain it to you?

Can you contact the

embassy in Albania?

Go call the guards.

Sir?

Sir?

Ludovic and Louise were

being sucked back into protocol.

Meanwhile the poor fellow was

being turned into a puppet once again.

Sire, here's a clean shirt.

I understand.

Agree.

Goodbye.

Mr. Lloyd, the palace

has canceled Our King.

Sire?

The palace has

canceled Our King.

Ludovic, we are the palace.

Anything he has filmed

will be censored.

I'm sorry, Mr. Lloyd.

Well, that was the end of that.

His story and my film

will never see the light of day.

Once again, my footage was

being shut down and shelved forever.

I couldn't blame him really.

After all, a king can't control

his own destiny.

Or so I thought.

Yes, that's fine, but we have

to agree with Turkish security.

Yes, our versions must coincide.

Nobody knows.

Well, no one knew about

the king's identity.

All right. Goodbye.

Sire, I have the official

version proposed by the palace.

We left Istanbul yesterday,

accompanied by Turkish security.

And our escape in the

Balkans has never happened.

Mr. Duncan Lloyd?

I, King Nicolas III,

King of the Belgians...

hereby authorize you

to do whatever you want

with all the images and sounds

that you've captured since our day

in Mini Europe.

All pictures, sire?

Yes.

Are you sure?

Very good.

Your Majesty.

Do you think this journey is

due to coincidence or destiny?

It has to be destiny.

There must be something

more than just coincidence.

What do you fear most?

To be just...

a passenger.

Do you think your

kingdom has a future?

Yes.

Why?

Because...

I'm the king.

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